Welcome to the Jungle...Again

Dudes, Count Chocula was totally hanging out in my apartment this morning. Literally, hanging out, in bat form. I normally pride myself on not being overly girly and being able to deal with these things. I mean, my voice doesn't even go to that high-pitched place that only dogs can hear so I'm not much with the shrieking. But you guys, it was a freakin' bat. And it was dive-bombing my head. For serious.

This is all by way of saying that while it was nice of the Red Sox to win one last night and exceptionally considerate of Papelbon to finish things off at 9:59, just in time for me to watch Project Runway, I'm not sure if it matters since the bat is clearly a harbinger of the apocalypse which I fear is heading Boston-ward this very weekend. It's not locusts but after the mice and the bat, I expect to find an alligator in my bathtub or a puma under my sink in the coming days. Since I evidently live in Wild Kingdom now.

What I'm saying is, we're all going to die.

Brace yourselves.