Badass Blogger T-shirt & Squirrel Tales

What does every blogger want?

10,000 new followers.

Ah yeah.

If I had a magic wand I’d grant each and every one of you badass bloggers that wish.

Instead I have a magic stylus and I created this Badass Blogger t-shirt…

Pretty sweet right?

Don’t look at how long this skirt is on me…my legs look like they are 2 inches tall. I was “trying” to do the whole “midi” thing and well… basically #epicfail. 

I made this blogger t-shirt for myself but have uploaded the graphic to my Society6 account so you can purchase it in different colours and sizes.

You can also get iPhone covers.

or greeting cards

I’m actually in the middle of designing a whole set of Blogger greeting cards. I’ve got loads of ideas.

I’m smiling here because minutes before I narrowly escaped being attacked by a squirrel coming over that fence. We have LOTS of squirrels here and they aren’t afraid of me anything.

Case in point, one evening I was home alone and had just finished eating supper. I was washing the dishes and heard a light tap, tap, tap. We have a large glass patio door that leads out of the kitchen onto a deck into the backyard. I glanced over at the patio doors,  no one was there.

Then I heard it again.

Tap, tap, tap…

I went to check the front door.

No one was there either.

I came back and started doing the dishes again.

Tap, tap, tap…

What the?

The hairs on the back of my neck started to bristle.

It was dark.

I was alone.

Tap, tap, tap…

My mind started to race…

…was it  a pack of zombies tapping on the windows in the basement?

CRAP!

Who was going to save me?

My pug?

Tap, tap, tap…

I was starting to seriously lose my shit.

Whomever, whatever it was, they weren’t giving up.

Tap, tap, tap…

This time I was sure it was coming from the patio doors.

Then I saw it.

There, in the very lower corner of the glass door, hidden in shadows I spotted a black wirey looking squirrel with beady dark eyes and a manic tail sitting next to the window. He brought up his little fist and knocked again on the window.

Tap, tap, tap.

He wanted in!

Cheeky bastard. 

What did he need?  To borrow a cup of sugar?

His tail was wildly gesticulating and he seemed agitated. Like he was hopped up on Red Bull and Ritalin.

Why was he knocking on my patio door? Why hadn’t he gone to the neighbours?

Then I started to think that maybe he was some psycho squirrel that required an invitation into the house like a vampire.  Then, once inside, he would carry out his master plan for world domination.  He would destroy my house and enslave me to an eternity of piling acorns in different corners of the house.

My mind may have gone a bit squirrely rogue on me at that point and I was starting to scare myself. Like at the point in the horror movie when the person screams into the phone…

“It’s coming from inside the house!!!”

That squirrel was seriously beginning to

freak.

me.

out.

I didn’t care if he could knock better than any well trained Jehova’s Witness…that high strung acorn junkie rodent was not getting in my house.

He knocked again.

He stared at me,

challenging me with those black beady eyes.

His tail twitched.

He looked a bit desperate, like he really needed to use the bathroom.

My resolved started to soften a bit.

I waved at him.

He waved his tail frantically.

And then he beat his little fist on the window again.

“Ah helloooooo lady! Can’t you see me here? Let me in!”

His eyes didn’t leave mine.

I stared back, surprised that the waving of my hand hadn’t scared him away.

We just looked at each other.

It was a stare stand off.

Would would give in first?

He seemed pretty stubborn crazy.

I looked at him.

I was determined to hold my ground.

I gave him my best, “Go ahead, make my day… squirrel” look.

He stared back at me with his best, “Avon calling!” look.

No one moved.

We just stared.

Finally Zoë came around the corner wondering what all the fuss was about. Once the little freak saw Zoë he took off straight away. That squirrel was no dummy…he realized I’d already been enslaved by a pug years ago.

Cross my heart…every word of this story is true, I had to call my parents to tell them just how weird it all was.

Hardly any martinis were consumed prior to the whole event.

Is this really me blowing kisses?

When you’re a slave to a pug…

anything is possible.
Linking up with:  The Pleated Poppy What I Wore    Get Your Pretty On – I Feel Pretty,  I Will Wear What I Like