Tag Archives: grasshoppers

PRODUCT REVIEWS

Screen door on a submarine.

ORTHO BUG B GON MAX (Manufacturer, Scotts. Active ingredient, Bifenthrin [pyrethrin]): I sprayed this bullshit chemical cocktail over my entire yard. It’s supposed to work to kill grasshoppers a) on contact and b) later. How well does this work?

NOT AT ALL.

Eat a gigantic bag of dicks, Scotts. Yes, you were a cheap, well-marketed seeming solution to my problem. You are also made of balls. Big, hairy, useless balls. I spent an entire morning spreading your poisonous merde over grasshoppers and crickets and lawn and it turns out? YOU’RE MADE OF USELESSNESS AND DESPAIR. Thanks again, chemistry schmucks and marketing (“Bug B Gon”? Really?) lie-sacks of turd.

Price: $14.99 each x 2 (because I’m stupid) = $30.00

Rating: I hope you get genital warts

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Ashtray on a motorcycle.

SEVIN BUG KILLER (Manufacturer, Bayer. Active ingredient, Carbaryl): Know what’s good about this product? Only its no-nonsense name. Know what it does to grasshoppers? Makes them genetically susceptible to the ability to LAUGH IN MY FACE. Nice work, Bayer. It’s not bad enough that I broke my No-Bayer-Products rule because you fuckers kill bees, but I also paid you money to buy a poison that DOES NOT WORK? Well played, assholes. You win this round.

Also, nice white crud left all over everything. That’s swell.

Price: $25.00 (1 gallon)

Rating: I hope mutant spiders lay eggs in your face

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Tits on a bull.

FRONTLINE (Manufacturer, Merial. Active Ingredient, Fipronil (pyrethrin): Here’s how well your vaunted products work on my cats and dog: EXACTLY ZERO TIMES INFINITY. I spent almost $100 to get the dog and cats flea-free, unable to dose them with anything ELSE THAT WORKS for one month, because it would probably kill them. So we get to bomb the house (then wipe down every surface and vacuum every freaking nook and cranny), spread diatamaceous earth all over the carpet, repeatedly vacuum, use peppermint oil in the flea baths, spray the cats and dog with flea spray, and get flea bites ourselves, FOR ONE FUCKING MONTH. I hate you so much. If hate were people, I’d be China.

Your useless, over-priced poison products only served to make one cat foam at the mouth, and the rest be re-infested within three days. Your claims that it lasts a month make me want to drive to your homes and leave flaming bags of poo on your lying liar porches.

Price: $100 for cats and dog (six treatments in all)

Rating: Just die. You exhaust me.

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Grasshopper Ninja

Please work. Please work.

I am sorry to say it, but it’s true. I just went all ninja assassin on the grasshoppers and it felt awesome. I hate giving these jackholes money (Scott’s/Ortho), but I just sprayed the shit out of our lawn with Bug B Gone Max. We got two bottles. I’m going to reward myself for mopping the kitchen floor with a good spraying out by the pool. SUCK POISON, BITCHES! I did NOT spray it near our gardens. I’m going to go in and chase the grasshoppers out with flailing arms and a rake, and hope they get blasted in the poison part of the lawn. I’m also going to walk around my lawn smashing grasshopper corpses with my boots. Because that will make me happy.

In other news, here’s a picture of the latest harvest. The tomatoes are starting to wind down, so it’s time to start more seedlings in the (inside) greenhouse. We’re going to experiment with growing in our little outdoor greenhouse, because the heirloom varieties really struggle in the Texas sun. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND Arkansas Traveler and Stupice heirlooms, however. They’ve been thriving out there (the little toms in the picture are Arkansas Traveler) and both are super-sweet and delicious. I will grow them again in a heartbeat. The pears in the picture got blown off our pear tree during the high winds the other day, and as they were our ONLY pears, I’m a little sad.

PS: If you’ve not seen this blog, please go over and show this little Scottish girl some love. (Start at the beginning and read all the entries…It’s only a few pages long.) She does school food reviews, and yesterday, her town council tried to shut her down. The Internet went MONKEY SHIT and the council reversed its decision. HER BLOG IS COVERED IN WIN.

PSS: This bit with Jack McBrayer and Triumph almost made me pee myself laughing. True story.

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Wherein I Whine…

So last night I’m all braggin’ on how I’m a badass because [from Facebook]: “I’ve discovered that I’ve got actually THREE scorpion stings in the same area (think *BAP*BAP*BAP*), because they’ve turned kind of hard, itchy, and (maybe) necrotic. So I’m not only a badass, I might be dying. Good-bye, non-scorpion-bitten friends.” and how I’m like TRIPLE THE BADASS because I got three stings instead of just one.

I’m a great big baby.  I had a grasshopper-related meltdown on my way to the big garden today, that had it been witnessed, would have resulted in my immediate hospitalization.

Only slightly worse than the farm…Also, these are locusts. Like I give a shit.

The grasshoppers have been bad here, but never, ever this bad. They.are.everywhere. They drown in the pool and clog the filter. They’re losing their fear of people. The dog brings them in and eats their legs off, leaving me to step on squirming grasshopper torsos. I go outside to get the old Siamese out of the grass (he likes to sleep in the sun), and he’s covered in grasshoppers. One was on my shirt, sitting right on my boobs last night when I came inside and I had a baby spaz attack to the point where Allan grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away from myself. I think he thought I was being attacked by a cobra.

THEY FREAK ME OUT.

*Scene: Me walking along in the grass this morning around 7:00 a.m., surrounded by a veritable cloud of grasshoppers, more than I’ve ever seen or been around, EVER. Kind of like the picture, but WORSE, because it was happening to ME.

*Me* Getting more and more freaked out as I walk along, I start to wave my picking bag around in front of me, and start to yell, “Fuck OFF! I fucking HATE YOU! Just DIE!” And then one got down my boot (certainly not the first time) and I finally lost my shit. I started crying and yelling, “I fucking HATE IT HERE, ALLAN!* This is the biggest ball-sack of terrible EVER!” and jumped around on one foot shaking out my boot and snot running down my grown-up woman-baby face.

But I pulled up my grown-up lady shorts and went into the back garden anyway, and picked about a ton of tomatoes, the tears subsiding a little as I picked and sweated. Then I fed and watered the geese and chickens, and at least there are no grasshoppers there. They eat the SHIT out of those things.

And I’ll have to suck it up here in a little bit and go out and do my evening watering, and put the ladies up for the night, and deal with those assholes again. Because that’s what needs to be done.

It has come to this: I no longer hate poison.

NOTE TO HUSBAND: BUY 600 GALLONS OF THIS STUFF OR SIMILAR, OR I’M MOVING TO SASKATCHEWAN.

*He was at work while I was yelling at him here.

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