Stupid is as stupid does, I guess

I found an article in the local paper yesterday that really pissed me off. Seems some guy, who is licensed to carry a gun, shot a kid. Well, let's be clear here - the kid somehow wound up on this guy's porch with his own gun and wanted to rob him. So, the homeowner shot him. And the kid's cousin or somebody was quoted by the paper whining about how her cousin is now dead. Well, here's a big news flash - MAYBE HE SHOULDN'T BE OUT, CARRYING A GUN AND TRYING TO ROB PEOPLE! I am so sick of hearing all this crap about how sorry they feel for the kid. Do I think it's a good thing when people die, hell no! But, if you are out, robbing, carjacking, threatening people with guns, trying to shoot at cops, trying to run over cops, well, what do you think the chances are that you might get harmed yourself? It's a sad shame that there are kids as young as 11 or 12 years old out trying to be tough and needing a gun to prove it. But it's even more of a shame that people are up arms over innocent people trying to protect themselves, rather than asking what a kid is doing with a gun and how they can change that.

WTF?

I am sitting at work today and talking to the paralegal. We are chatting it up, and I turn around to look at her and there, sitting in the middle of the freaking office, is a mouse. I stop in midsentence, muttering "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" She follows my gaze to the floor, and the little shit is just sitting there, hovering, quivering, like he has no idea that we are even there. I mean, aren't mice supposed to run from humans? Not walk right into the middle of the f'ing floor and sit down? And then not even move after hearing our squeals? We both panic, not knowing what to do. This clearly falls under "Man's Job". We are not men. We decide to throw a box over top of it and see what happens. It doesn't move, it is trapped. We leave it there, figuring it will die or someone will get it - eventually. Just not us. I leave voicemail for the boss that we do not remember in our job descriptions the wording "pest control". What a little ballsy thing. I am crabby due to our shitty weather, which graced us with 80 degrees last week, only to f'ing snow on Easter, and yes, it's still shitty, although the snow has turned to rain instead. I get the boys from the sitter, get home, give Cole a bath, of course he graces me with a urine shower prior to being placed in the tub. After that , get him out, go to feed him, all is well until the burping period, when somehow he manages to puke not only all over my shoulder, but it slides down my chest right through my cleavage. It's not the best feeling in the world, of this I am sure.