Sometimes you have to clean things with fire. Cleansing, healing fire.

Before I go off on the horrible, horrible living conditions (and mental state) of the people on Hoarders last night, I want to remind everyone that Southland - TNT's best show on air - comes back tonight. Check your local listings, watch watch watch. It's an outstanding drama, and it happens to be a cop drama written by/conceived by women. Awesome.

Anyway, let me tell you about how there is a booming business here in North Texas for repairing paint jobs that have been wrecked due to grackle poop. I live where the birds come for winter, so there are ridiculous flocks of noisy, poopy birds all winter long. Oh, delightful. And there's a lot of room here. A lot of birds pooping on your car hood, say, won't be pleasant, but the whole block won't stink to high heaven. You certainly wouldn't use your fingernail to chip it off your car, right? Nasty, RIGHT? We're all agreeing that bird poop is gross, gross stuff? Why, oh why don't all people think so? ( KILL IT. KILL IT WITH FIRE. By which I mean the hoarder, not the poor animals. Yeah, animals were hoarded, this won't end well, etc. etc. warning etc. )

TODAY I WILL CLEAN ALL THE THINGS. And today is tamale rolling day. Holy crow, my house smells like nothing but cumin. I think I'll need to air the house out, because I might get confused and think that's a dirty smell. GAH CLEAN ALL THE THINGS. ALL OF THEM. Lysol douches, anyone? (I just laid my head on my table and laughed at that.)

And because I'm sympathetic to those that read this, here is a palate cleanser for you. AHAHAHA, brb, laughing still. (Mar, I love your tumblr.)