"It's too close for comfort, this heat has got right out of hand"

Does anyone remember the video for this song. It was so stupid.

The Banarama girls were being followed by a trucker and they threw some banana peels on his windshield -- like that would stop him. Any other '80s fans out there remember any more details? I still loved the group and still love the song. I actually have this single on vinyl -- just like the picture.

Tomorrow will be a beast. Today the air conditioning was like the Little Engine that Could except this little engine never made it over the hill. The dog pants all the time like she can never quite catch her breath and outside it is just nasty. Even at midnight tonight it was still 85 degrees and a super sauna outside. I have an elaborate system of fans set up in the bedroom and it helps. Andi even has her own fan and she sleeps jacked up right next to it.

To add insult to injury, K called me at work frantic last night, "THERE IS A POSSUM IN THE BASEMENT!" If that exclamation doesn't typify the deep south I don't know what does. We are in a neighborhood that is considered part of downtown Birmingham and yet we have possums, voles, rats, snakes and probably other critters that give me the total heebs to think about.

According to our eyewitness, the possum was as big as our cat Koko, and spotted on the workbench in one of the cubby holes eating Koko's food. Koko was said to be very pissed and bitching about the possum eating her food, but also had a look of terror in her eyes that K couldn't understand until she looked where Koko was looking. I asked her if she screamed and she said no, but she muttered "Oh dear God" and ran upstairs. For those of you who don't live in the deep south, possums are freaky and mean with beady eyes and naked tails. (see photo -- k says it looked just like this).

They give most everyone the creeps. We went down to the basement together after I came home from work armed with a rake and broom. There was no possum to be found, but I saw where he got it and blocked the hole with a big rock. We have a scary basement I call the Blair Witch basement because of its partial dirt floor and naked lightbulbs on a chord. I swear it I look hard enough I can see children's hand prints on the wall. Now we have another reason to not want to go down there it seems like this critter might be smart enough to figure its way around the jerry-rigged patched holes we have leading outside.

When I described this blog as having critter pix, this was not the kind of critter I had in mind.

One, two, three, four ... I declare a varmit war!