Upon spotting a giant cockroach in my apartment...
Four years ago:
Screamed. Jumped up and down. Ran from room. Approached both tears and reverse peristalsis (but, for the record, succumbed to neither.) Left frantic note for sleeping roommate, all in caps with many underlines and exclamation points, expressing insistence that we move immediately. Considered leaving worthless, filthy shithole of a city once and for all.
This morning:
Arched one eyebrow, impressed with size and boldness of insect invader. Calmly wadded up toilet paper. Smashed without mercy. Cast into toilet. Muttered "take THAT, motherfucker." Flushed. Resumed makeup application.
Progress?
Screamed. Jumped up and down. Ran from room. Approached both tears and reverse peristalsis (but, for the record, succumbed to neither.) Left frantic note for sleeping roommate, all in caps with many underlines and exclamation points, expressing insistence that we move immediately. Considered leaving worthless, filthy shithole of a city once and for all.
This morning:
Arched one eyebrow, impressed with size and boldness of insect invader. Calmly wadded up toilet paper. Smashed without mercy. Cast into toilet. Muttered "take THAT, motherfucker." Flushed. Resumed makeup application.
Progress?
posted by Helen the Felon at 11:34 AM
8 Comments:
Oh yes, you've come a long way, baby.
I try being the butch one in our home... and then scream like a little girl when the bug moves after I've squashed it. So yes, I'd say you've made HUGE progress.
Next step is sautéeing them in a white wine and butter sauce...
just like tracy turnblad nonchalantly kicking a rat off of her shoe in hairspray!
kiss kiss
mr pinky,
your Colorado correspondent
Well done! Isn't it amazing how the sighting of a pest causes us to speak in action flick-like catchphrases? Upon opening up a box of rodenticide and leaving it out for would-be tailed intruders, I declared in a tone as cold as steel, "Eat this, bitch." Apparently, my pest control methods tend to borrow heavily from the Arnold/Sly/Chuck Norris/Steven Seagall playbook.
I would have been more impressed if this event didn't interfere with the make-up application at all.
At least it wasn't a rat.
Abso-fuckin-lutely.
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