In the bird versus squirrel war...

This is how our morning played out: my dad was in the kitchen loading his plate with eggs on toast with bacon, when all of a sudden he starts going "DEAL WITH IT, NO NO GO OUT THERE AND YELL GO NOW GO GO." as if he was having a sudden conniption over a non-existent football game being played. His outburst was meet with very concerned stares, to which he responded with bolting down to the living room carrying his plate trying to yell more and not spill. After analysis, we realized there was a squirrel literally being attacked by a robin in a tree. Which of course set Roo off in an attack of emotion to rival my father's and they were off. The robins are not down for the count. Not with "pellet-itis" sweeping our yard population of squirrels. Roo has adopted the job of baby robin guard, protecting the nest. I am not sure he knows that is his job, but he is finding it particularly entertaining that the squirrels are mysteriously flocking to that tree and thus he gets to chase them into a new one. It was all downhill (or down to the ground and out of the tree) from there. Roo thought he scared the squirrel to death and was very cocky following the stealth shooting action that occurred on the side of my father. But sadly for him he had to be leashed so he didn't go into a frenzy of pride and eat the squirrel. Roo... not my dad.

Team Squirrel: -1

Team Robin: +4 eggs

And as Tom eloquently put it "In the battle of robins against squirrels, I am on the side of the robins and I will lay down the law."

You tell them Dad, you show those squirrels who runs this yard.

And here is a perfect and hilarious video for you. It would not be surprising if this was me, but sadly it isn't. Instead I was kissing trout and poking their eyes when I was four. Not much has changed.

http://www.keepbusy.net/play.php?id=little-girl-finds-new-friend

I blame Mr. Belz.

It all started in the fifth grade. Mr. Belz had moved from his lazy boy in the library to a rolling chair in a class room, from which he presided over our class with totalitarianism and a snack ban. He and I didn't... click. The main issue was his math skills. Back in the good old days I really loved math. Well, I loved school in general, if you left out the trading lip gloss and failing at teatherball at recess part of it. When Mr. Belz was incapable of completing long division on the board during the math portion of our class, the overly concerned and high maintenance eme decided that the first day of class was a good time to correct him.

Now, they say it is wrong to speak ill of those who have died (he passed away a few years ago which made me feel pretty old) I have to say a few things: Mr. Belz did not want to be a fifth grade teacher, and to my interpretation he didn't like children. At least in the library he could sit in peace knowing there were very few of us who knew where the library was, let alone chose to visit it for more than a pre-class escape from the -20 degree weather. Mr. Belz did not take kindly to my correction, and I spent the better half of my recess time for that year sitting in his room with my head down. Now, if my calc teacher today asked me to do that I would lovingly abide and would enjoy a little cat nap during class. It never works that way though, and at the time missing recess was the end of my world.... how could I get a boyfriend? Would I be replaced at the lunch table if I kept missing lunch? Would Jasmin give her mom's stolen lip stick to someone else? Oh the horror.

I wish I could go back to fifth grade when life was so "complicated and difficult" and my brain worked through math problems like it was easier than breathing. This month, as I suffer through calculus every day with a test each Friday, I am wondering what happened to that portion of my brain and why I can't do math anymore. So I am choosing to forgo my ability to rationally take blame and admit that I have not really studied or applied over 80% of my brain power, and instead I will say the sunlight I was deprived of as a child as punishment for being correct at math has lead me to a psychological inability to process math without fear of retaliation.

However, I did point out to my professor that he forgot to teach us the material for the quiz, and so once again I am reminded that even though I may not be stellar at math, I am still great at calling teachers on their issues. Let's just hope they don't decide to call me out on mine.

I guess we missed the rapture.

We are all screwed. In four months Jesus is going to come machete our faces off.

HA.

HAHAHAHA.

And in December 2012 we are going to die because the Mayans ran out of room on their calendar.

Really now though, any one of us could get hit by a bus tomorrow and be made into a nice asphalt pancake and there is just as much of a chance of that happening as there is of Jesus deciding to pop on down and massacre us. So please, because Jesus died on the cross to save us from sin, don't forget that if He had showed up the other day, He wouldn't have left us all behind like "Oh yo, no biggie but I really just hung on the cross for fun because I was pretty bored one day, so you are all stuck here, sucks for you!" No. No. No.

This past weekend I was busy not being raptured at my friend April's wedding. It was one of those weekends where everything is so perfect and so radiant that you can't help but be so positive that God has a divine plan. Sometimes in the midst of life I forget that all those values I have aimed for, all those times I said no or walked away from a bad relationship, they seem to fall aside like poor decisions. As if settling would have at least mean someone, instead of another night of falling asleep wondering how I ended up being alone. But then there are those days, those rare wonderful days when love can't be denied. Not the kind of love that fades or that isn't worth waiting for. The kind of love that sets your heart on fire and forces you to believe in things you had given up as a little girl. Maybe that love has not arrived yet; for me it certainly has not. That makes it so easy to forget, to think of the alternatives like a hot hook up or a singleness pact for a year. But those days, those are the ones that snap you back. That make you remember that the hurt and the questions and the doubt will someday be thrown aside because you will have found that one great love. Normally this is when I would say something like, at least, that is what I hope. But today I can say that is what I know.

April was one of my closest confidants last year. She is 24 and was (and still is) the closest thing I have to a big sister. On the days when I had no idea what I was doing with my life, she was the one saying God had that under control. Not to mention she has completely lived her faith without boasting, preaching or lecturing. Just true peaceful living. And that is what I want. It was in February that she told me she was talking to a guy named Ryan who lived out West and that her heart was on fire. After two weeks of Skyping, following their mutual friend telling Ryan he needed to talk to her, she knew. Now, in true Marilyn Monroe form we all know "A wise girl kisses but doesn't love, listens but doesn't believe, and leaves before she is left." so there was the certain level of doubt. He flew out over Valentine's weekend, and that was it. Bing Bang Boom that's how weddings are planned. 18 months later we were in Salt Lake City watching them dance and shove cake in eachother's face.

Between cooking dinners, trying not to fail my calculus class, and biking around in the rain it has been so easy to forget about love; I feel like life whirls around me at some ungodly speed and grasping even small moments to live is difficult. Live in the sense of enjoying the people in your life, spending time in the sun, or reading a book. Not the living like we do it, like we are stuck on fast forward and can't take five seconds of our day to say "Hi" to a person on campus or take a chance on love. At the wedding I talked to a woman named Beth who used to run the international side of Proctor and Gamble. Literally like head honcho bust your ball business woman. She was a tad on the boozy side, and was telling me how much her twenty year old son resented her for the fact that she worked so much when he was growing up but now that she is retired she gets to spend time being a stay at home mom for his 11 year old brother. I asked her if she would do it again, and her main advice was that you work at 150% but you realize that at the end of the day, you don't want to go home to your job. So make sure you take time for the people who matter. Be it your husband, boyfriend, girlfriend, fiancée or your family, just make that a priority.

I left the weekend with a huge sense of realignment, as if my brain/heart went to the chiropractor. How sad is it to go through life terrified of love or hurt, and then end up missing out on all the wonderful moments that happen when we stop worrying so much about the next grade we will get or our next paycheck. And on top of that, how dull would life be if we spent all our time worrying and stressing out, as opposed to checking work at the door and letting ourselves just live a little. At the end of the day all we really want is that love that is "the one." Where you don't even know why or how but it happens. And until then I think we need to just fall in love with as many people and things as we can so that each day is absolutely bursting with beauty and life, because if not, what do we have left?

I want it all.

i want it all

i want that big love. i want pictures of us brushing our teeth. i want touching all night, i want watching our favorite show, i want spontaneous late night adventures, i want trips to the museum. i want the best friend love, the everything love. the comfortable love. the loud, unashamed love. the drunk on each other love. i want it all.

i think it’s real this time. i really hope it’s real this time. i always felt that i could turn my feelings off. in dire situations i can numb them so good i even fool myself, but now they’re back and i don’t have a choice. i’m stuck. i hope this pans out well.

--Courtesy of my bestie Megan Berray.

Sometimes there are two yokes in an egg.

Did you know that? I just found out. I learned it this year. I also learned that China violates most basic human rights set up by the UN. And that water in Steamboat is tolerable, but the rest is just gross.

When talking to Lizzy tonight (she's my future roomie, remember that so when I talk about her all the time you aren't like wait who is that) and discussed making lists of what we learned this year and we decided that it is the mature and reflective thing to do. Hopefully my list is compromised of things other than learning how to bake a potato.

After six months in Spain and lots of Skype dates, emails, messages and melt downs, this is what I somehow pieced together and need to not forget:

1. It is a good thing to have standards in life and to stick to them. For example: a car, a job, and a savings account are necessary for boyfriends. And a wage above $8.50 an hour is necessary for a job. And a smile is necessary to getting things done in stressful situations.

2. If you rinse your fingers with cold water immediately after cutting up an onion, they won't smell like onion for ever and ever.

3. In order to bake a potato, you need to stab it with a fork a few times.

4. Needles really don't hurt that bad if you breathe and don't think about somethings strange going in your skin.

5. There are worse things in life than paper cuts, break ups, hangovers, and breaking one nail when all the other ones are perfectly long and great.

6. Rest and regret is a good policy for after a slightly humiliating night. But limit it to one day of resting and regretting, then move on.

7. Never, never, never chug Guinness. No matter how many free leprechaun hats are being offered.

8. Don't say yes to every question you get asked; sometimes you need time to think and say no. Or think and say yes. But thinking is vital.

9. Not all stories need to be told. If you can leave them in the past, sometimes that is where they belong.

10. Standing up for yourself is a good thing. That way crazy girls you are forced to live with don't make you miserably, boys don't treat you like they thought you were a real cool snag at a garage sale but then decided to toss in the dumpster on their way home, and your professors will take a second look at that paper they didn't grade fairly.

11. Always get the shitty stuff done first: like calc. Why did I put it off until now? Really Michelle? Was senior year that much more fun without it? NO.

12. If a pipe is leaking in your brain and lots of green stuff is flowing out of you like Niagara Falls... go to the doctor.

13. If I have to pick between weighing 110 pounds or eating cookies and ice cream... I'll take the ice cream.

14. If I have to pick between going to the gym and going outside, outside is better. God created the world and frankly, if he thought treadmills were a productive way to spend my life, he'd have stuck on in the Garden of Eden. And I haven't heard a thing about Eve running her booty off on a treadmill. So no thank you.

15. Sometimes, people just are not going to like you. And that is okay.

16. And sometimes people are going to make stuff up to cover up their own problems, and that is okay too. Because as long as you know who you are, the rest of those rumors and lies don't really matter at the end of the day.

17. Seeley Booth is the most perfect fictional character ever and if it was possible, I would marry him. That was a big lesson because it bumped Mark Darcy to second place. Ouch, Darcy, did it hurt when you fell?

18. Always drink three glasses of water before bed if drinking has occured.

19. Do one thing a day that makes you truly happy. Taking care of yourself and your heart is vital if you plan on taking care of anyone else.

20. Proof read everything.

21. Think before you write. And sometimes, just don't write at all. Or talk for that matter.

22. Always put your dishes in the dish washer.

23. Laundry is stupid. It was 10 years ago, it is now, and it will always be. But it is also kind of therapeutic and so do it and don't wait till you only have one pair of undies left. EW.

24. Keep in touch with old friends.

25. Be alone. It is good for the heart and good for growth. But at the same time, don't force it. Leaning on friends is a good thing, which I learned this year.

26. Okay so this one I learned recently and haven't implimented: but set goal. Stop being a baby about it and decide what needs to happen.

27. Always say sorry first.

28. Even if you want to junk punch someone and tell them where they can put it: be graceful. Nobody really likes someone who goes around smashing egos openly. If you have to do so, try and be kind about it.

29. STOP DRINKING STARBUCKS EVERY SINGLE DAY.

30. Budget, budget, budget.

31. But don't miss things that are awesome cause you are on a budget. Sometimes you have to go to France.

32. If you have to wake up really early, trust your alarm. So that you don't spend all night waking up repeatedly to check the time.

33. Wait for someone who knows you. Really knows you. And take things slow. And don't be closed off to love. But most importantly: be with someone who makes you laugh. That is the key.

34. Laugh at yourself daily.

35. Drink water. Even though it tastes horrible and boring.

36. Mom is always right. Doesn't that just suck?

37. If Dad says no to a guy, listen. Otherwise you'll hear about it for EVER when it falls apart.

38. Put your name in all your books. But always share them.

39. Stop reading the same books over and over.

40. Try new things. Like bananas. Or basketball.

41. Always hold babies when you get the chance or babysit, that way you won't want to have one of your own.

42. It's okay sometimes to just let people be nice to you for no reason without feeling bad.

43. Tony on Ab Ripper would be ashamed of me, but on the weeks I get motivated, he is a god. So this year I learned that on fat days... ab ripper is a bff. So is spandex under your jeans. I think spandex counts as a workout plan.

44. It's okay to secretly be furious when your friend buys the sweater you wanted, when your sister gets better grades than you, or your ex isn't miserable without you. As a girl, it is kind of given that you are allowed to be secretly furious about these things. As long as you keep it relatively secret.

45. When drunk, it is not a good idea to be let near Facebook, Skype, or a phone. Or black football players.

46. Watching shows that stress you out or make you feel like you are going to get stabbed are not healthy.

47. Cooking is a fun. Baking is not.

48. Quotable cards are great if you need a status that nobody has used yet.

49. Traveling is the best way to learn.

50. Never wear heels unless the night requires no more walking than from a car to a chair.

Birth Defect.

Blame it on the parents. That is my new life solution for all my problems. For example: my heel bone is freak of nature connected to my ankle bone so this thingy called a sub-taylor joint is basically non-existent in my foot. Which means that the cartilage has been slowly deteriorating and probably by 40 I will lose all side to side motion and possibly up and down, leaving me with a club foot which I will use to scoot things around on the floor, as practiced after a few drinks on Friday.

Perhaps I will post you a video of my possible future birth defect. For now though, I just get to have a nice lovely surgery and some "very difficult and uncomfortable" rehab. What does that mean... they will circle all the fat parts of my body? That would be uncomfortable. We are talking making a joint move that never has in my life, which sounds more to me like torture. Really I would appreciate if one of you would start researching how to replace cartilage so I don't have a club foot and look like a fool. I really enjoy heels and cowgirl boots, so the whole "no solution" answer really isn't going to cut it for me.

Tonight we watched No Strings Attached, which I realized is kind of my life story minus all the sex. Which is good if you are God and you are observing my life. Which You better be cause I am trying awfully hard to be good, I even gave the Kiwanis Club people four dollars. So pay attention, You Up There.

Tomorrow I start calculus, and as nerdy and horrible as this is: I can't wait. I feel like my brain has been running at 40% and that is just not okay. The fact that watching Khloe and Lamar provides me great and vast happiness is a clear symptom of lack of brain usage.

Friday night (we are really jumping around right now, I am sorry) I threw my first bachelorette party. Which means I had to go to a sex shop to get a sash and crown and contemplated getting a two foot blow up penis, but our waiter ended up hating us so asking for an extra chair for our friend would have been even worse. Basically it was just probably a tad inappropriate. I also didn't order a male stripper, although I was told that at my party, they are going to call ten. So if you get invited, in ten years from now, be warned that I was once threatened with ten strippers and that may happen because that is my life. The party overall was a success I think, although I thought in true Hangover form that I lost Natalie. I woke up (butt naked for some reason I am yet to discover) and couldn't find her anywhere. And all I could think about was Alan without pants. On the bright side, there was no tiger, chicken or baby in our apartment. I found Natalie downstairs on the couch, and apparently she woke up naked as well and took a shower and shaved her legs because Natalie is a motivated drunk. She knows this because she went to bed with perfectly curled hair and woke up with shower hair and shaved legs.

Ten strippers threatened, and birth defect later, I am now going to bed so that I can go function at calc tomorrow. I hope your weekend was as eventful as mine, I would love to hear all about it if you feel like sharing.

Get out your binoculars, there's a new dealer in the Hood

I really wish that I could have told the little boys I babysit that the binoculars in the back of my car were for spotting deer. More likely, they were left there after a stake out, done by my parents, attempting to figure out what illegal substance was being sold by the new kids in the house across the street.

I can see it quite clearly, not because the exact situation just happened only from our dining room and during which my mother turned out all the lights to make sure he "couldn't see us watching him" in a real stalker type fashion, but because this is regular. Well, regular when you live somewhere that the most exciting news of the week is that a Steamboat dentist is on the new season of the Bachelorette, or that your neighbors are possibly drug dealers.

Across the street, a kid who is probably about 22 has moved in. He has that type of hair that looks like it is potentially ginger, and sticks out like he stuck his tongue in an electrical socket while enjoying a nice bubble bath and blow drying his hair. It is likely that he was hammering a stake into the ground, in the pouring rain, and then using it to rest his own pair of binoculars on it as a... school project? We didn't quite figure that part out, in our window creeping. However, something at the other end of the street seemed interesting to him. He also seemed to be using an App on his phone to make sure the stake was in at a 90 degree angle. Gotta make sure you don't mess that part up, when you are scoping out the people down the street... we certainly make sure we have nice resting posts for our binocs.

Perhaps he is actually doing his own investigation of the other possible drug house... I would guesstimate that from his perch he could see into their yard. My dad would thus jump to the conclusion that he is checking out his local competition. Wouldn't you be worried about who you were selling against, if you were cooking meth on Spruce Street?

Regardless of what he was doing, the possible physics project or landscaping issue he was having was the most exciting thing to occur in my mother's day today. Aside from my hourly phone calls about all the ridiculous things in my life, like a weirdo asking to take my picture with him or the doctor thinking that because I was in college I would now be "more familiar and comfortable with needles." Because... what... I went to college, developed a drug addiction, shoot up all the time and now have no fear of getting blood drawn? I don't know what she thinks I do at college, but I wasn't aware that becoming "comfortable" with needles was on the curriculum for normal students. Then again, look where I come from: a neighborhood that sneakily watches each other wondering if we can call the police yet. With all the drug dealers living around me, surely after another summer here getting my blood drawn will be just another afternoon needle stick.

When it's too muddy to hike...

It is 73 degrees and gorgeous out. Do you have the same problem I have, where it is SUCH a beautiful day but you can't figure out how to spend it? And then spend too much time inside stressing out about what you aren't doing, instead of just going and doing it? That's my current issue. The mud is preventing hiking, my lungs and this rockstar cough I picked up mean I can't go swim, and Roo means that the second I try to sit down and read he will assault me with a tennis ball and slobber. Rough life, huh?

Sometimes I get so stressed out about things like: what am I supposed to do with my life, why do all my tank tops make me feel like a six year old boy with a liking for pie, how am I supposed to remember where my keys are, why are people so absolutely challenged at driving and for the love of everything on Earth: why does Grey's Anatomy keep letting me down? And let's not even get started on things that actually matter like love or calling people back right away or adding another major or not freaking out about the past/present/future.

These are the normal things I worry about. Which could be a good thing... at least I'm not dying of cancer or a bear didn't decide I was a nice snack due to the lack of berries and yummy springy meals available due to the snow. Then again it kind of makes me feel like perhaps I should be deeper and worry about things like finding a cure for cancer or providing food for the poor bears. Really though, I am very stressed about things like tank tops and cough medicine and if I should get up an extra ten minutes early to make something other than, well, nothing... for breakfast.

That's what I have been thinking about today, between re-dipping chocolate covered strawberries just for the sake of having something to do at work, and going through all my country music about wasting days so I stop feeling like an utterly useless human being. So for now, I am resigning myself to listening to music and smelling this delicious candle and listening to my family get way too excited about the Kentucky Derby.

The grass is greener if you work your ass off mowing it and lose 10 pounds.

One issue I have with writing a blog is the whole possibility that I write things because I think they matter and really... they don't. Some things are needed because they provide comic relief. But I am actually planning on using this for SOMETHING. I just don't know what. I love the Single Woman on Twitter because I can count on multiple daily tidbits of happiness reminding me that despite the world's beliefs, I am not failing at life simply because I am not looking for a relationship. I love being single. That's just a fact. So that motivational goodoo bull shit is actually pretty stellar.

Then we have Jenna on Youtube, who I adore because if I cranked up my cussing 10 degrees and developed a Jersey accent as well as bleached the absolute shit out of my hair as she suggests, I feel like I could be her. Maybe not as funny, but as rude. Is that a bad thing? Probably.

Anyway, for now I am just going to keep telling you things like how I got asked if I was a high schooler when in Starbucks, but then an hour later got asked if I was 21 and could go out by a total cutie at work, so chances are I no longer look 14. Sorry, all you pervy peds out there searching for a fiesty little girl to creep on. Keep looking, cause I'm not your girl.

Which has actually come with a good side (not being asked if I am going into 9th grade with all those little prostitots) and a bad side (metabolism is no longer that of a 10 year old, thus drinking and excessive cheese eating mean my dresses no longer like to zip) and I am having a bi-polar relationship with my thighs. This is all important to your life because.... well frankly it isn't. But the good news is:we are both bored and I may be entertaining someone other than myself.

Knocked up or not?

So for all you fellow Harry Potter readers or watchers, I am throwing this out there:

If you had sex when you had taken polyjuice potion, could you get knocked up? Like, could Harry get knocked up if he took it and turned into Hermione? Also, if you were Hermione and turned into Harry (or Fleur, but we all know that she felt iiiideous as Harry) wouldn't you be entirely freaked out by having an extra appendage down there? There is nothing I would like less than that, aside from having a beard. Each would be awful. So ponder that and let me know. Because I doubt JK is going to email me back... I think she needs to write me a personal letter answering all my questions.

But I think God should do that too, and I've spent too many birthday wishes asking for answers. So I will settle for mind boggled-ness. For now.

They will write a country song about this week.

Okay on the history front, I am having a bit of an overload happiness crisis:

A royal wedding AND Osama dead, all in one week?????? This must be the work of the beatification of Pope John Paul II.

It is very likely that I'm about to have a spaz attack break down. Although to be honest, while it was precious that William and Kate kissed twice, where was that famous English snog? If I was Kate, I'd have laid a good one on him regardless of the Queen's disapproval. Perhaps, despite his gingerness, I shall go attempt to seduce Harry. Who, by the way, appeared to have rolled right out of bed with his on and off again girlfriend and right down the aisle with his brother. Unfortunately he didn't roll right out of my bed. Not to mention that Osama being dead will possibly spur lots of retaliation, similar to insulting Justin Beiber in a crowd of 13 year old girls, or telling Ben Landusky that the Greenbay Packers blow or depriving meatheads in the gym from their number one drink muscle milk.

At the moment I am watching some footage of Osama in a terrorist cell talking and doing some turban tying... frankly, being a terrorist looks: dirty, beardy, and boring. Why on earth would you pick that as your profession? Aside, you know, from the mental instability, insanity, desire to kill people, and overall lack of moral reasoning. For the entire TV clip, all they do is sit around kissing each other on the head in a windowless room, sitting on the floor on dirty pillows, in a manner similar to that of homeless men who lucked out on having a room to hide in. There are many things in life that I would rather do, like brush Roo's teeth with my tooth brush. Although in reality the number of dog kisses to my mouth that have occurred make that a pretty invalid statement. So let's rephrase: I would rather never see a baby cow again, or be forced to give up cheese for my entire life, or be forced to kiss Britney Spears than hang out with those men for a day. Let alone kiss their bald heads. I wonder if they consider making wigs from their beards, or just wrapping their beards all around their head to make up for their baldness. Perhaps my dad should take pointers from them.

The riveting moment of the video clip was when the turban of one of them men came unraveled. WOAH HOLD THE PHONE he has to re-wrap it. But first kisses a few men. Of course. Now I don't want to send people up in arms over my distaste for turbans, but it appeared to look quite like a roll of toilet paper when unraveled.

Let's jump back to the Royal Wedding. I am not sure if you were all as excited as I was (which was not, actually, enough to stay up till 3am to watch it live...) but perhaps it is my love for all things British: Pride and Prejudice, English bulldogs, biscuts, Bridget Jones, the word "shag", the phrase "the Queen's knickers", and boys with British accents who happen to also have nice teeth and a tan (does that even exist??), but I was very excited for the wedding. I am curious as to what on God's green Earth was going through Kate's head... "Oh la di da a normal day for me, marrying a real life prince and not getting snogged properly, oh why yes thank you I'll have a crumpet and some tea, let's go now my royal carriage is here, cheerio!" I would have been on a different level of nervous breakdown, that's for sure. Then again, as they call her "Waity Katie" perhaps she has already fantasized the life out of her wedding day. Adjusting to the idea that Prince William was going to be my husband and my entire life was going to be televised may be a bit too much to handle; look what it did to LC and Kristen on the OC. Perhaps though, Kate and William will be as addictive as Khloe and Lamar, which I secretly watch every weekend.

And so we finish this week, and have lived to witness what may be one of the most important weeks in history: the wedding, the beatification of JPII who I wish was my grandpa, and the sending of Osama Bin Laden to the firey place fondly known as hell, where he can spend the rest of eternity pondering what a total douchebag he was in the company of his fellow arseholes (thank you Britain) Hitler, Stalin, and the people who chew with their mouthes open in public.