born slippy

Ants in my house have found a new refuge, the dishwasher. I've eluded in a past post to the knowledge I have aquired from some fine moviemaking that insects, including ants, talk; and hold jobs, go to bars, have social lives. The group contracted to wake up early to make the trip to the dishwasher, or as I now refer to it, Antie Auschwitz, arrive at the job site exclaiming, "Boy! Look at all this food. It's right here on the floor. Hey Joe, canubelievit? Call in the colony. We're gonna need more workers."

Hate to admit it, but I rather enjoy playing insect God and deciding when it's time for them to take a long winter's nap. Holy Shit, come to think of it, according to the previous quiz, I guess the dictatorial shoe fits.