This morning, while stomping around the house stark naked and in search of a bra, I walked over to the dining room table where I had a stack of folded laundry from the night before. I bent down to pick up a black t-shirt from the top of the stack when I noticed that something was moving. Staring back at me was the fattest, brownest cockroach I have seen in days. (Last week, while throwing pottery a massive one ran by and Toby was asked to put it out of our misery with a sack of unmixed clay.) I totally freaked out and ran into the bedroom all the while holding onto my bare boobs. I tried to speak but nothing was coming out. Finally, I managed to say something.
Kill that fucking thing. Roach on t-shirt. Kill it.
Apparently, I have two real fears; flying and roaches. And I’m pretty sure if you combine the two, I would have an aneurism.
Yes, but Toby got an awsome accidental erotic dance out of it. Damn I’m good. Suck it Pollyanna!
Oh my god, don’t feel bad. I’m a guy and I scream like an 8 year old girl and FREAK OUT when I see those nasty little fuckers. To me, there is absolutely nothing nastier or more disgusting on earth. Once one FLEW ON ME when I was coming in from outside! I had TWO aneurisms and a heart attack. I MADE UP new curse words. I nearly didn’t live to tell about it.
Nasty little buggers aren’t they. That’s one reason why I’m glad we live in Calgary—not too many bugs. Though, now that I think of it, we did live an apartment that had roaches many years ago.
I’ve linked to my own cockroach story—I still get shivers when I think about it.
Awesome. I’ll check it out. It sucks, too because we don’t have roaches. I mean, I have seen only two since we’ve lived here and one of them was cut in half because Tucker got to it before we did. (Poor bastard didn’t know what hit him.) But this time he was only maimed by the Orangemani Terrorist. So we had to finish the job. I hope this is an isolated incident due to the heat. :[
last week one night after dinner I was standing outside of a bodega talking to one of my friends. She shivered and swat at her arm saying “ew it felt like something was on me”. She turned a little so we could check her and a roach the size of both my thumbs was on her back moving towards her long hair.
I knew better than to say roach but told her something was there. She started running around screaming on the sidewalk and I had to grab her by the arm yelling “stand still!” i had no choice but to bat the thing off her with my bare hand because i was afraid it would get in her hair.
I never told her what it was, it would be too awful. And I had to basically boil my hand for it to stop itching, though that was probably mental.
i hate roaches so so bad.
That would have removed at least one year off my life. Gerry tells me he has woke up twice with them on his bare back. I’m telling ya, I’d rather pet a wet sewer rat.
Good thing he wasn’t able to attack your naked boobies!