Did you know a cockroach can hold its breath for 40 minutes? Fascinating...and at the same time, deeply disturbing. Oh yeah, and they can run up to three miles in one day. Move over Michael Phelps, cockroach got ya beat! New poster child for Gatorade? Wheaties? I think so...
Anyhow, in lieu of exciting posts (nothing eventful is happening in my neck of the woods) I decided to share an e-mail from myself to my little sister, Clare. The following documents a true event...in fact, a traumatizing event in the charming life of Yours Truly. The events described took place on the night of Thursday, August 16, 2008. No names have been changed to protect identity. The following language and mental images may be offensive.
"Clare,
Your CL training sounds like a drag...but I just had to let you know I just got into my room...
I turned on the lights and what scurries to the middle of the floor but a HUGE, effing HUGE cockroach!!
Now, I have some strange Thai bugs co-habitating with me, but never, ever roaches!
So then I think, "SHIT. Damn it all, I don't have any Raid. No death spray! Annnnd, I can't call Clare shrieking. SHIT."
So then I stand all still-like, so as not to alarm the roach, because we're clearly having a stand-off. He knows someone's home and that someone is probably bigger than him...sadly, I am the one scared stiff.
Anyhoosen, so we're staring each other down and I turn and open the door...I was gonna sweep him out, but I have no broom, so I thought I'd just leave and let the bitch take a hint and get the hell outta my space. But then I thought, "NO! I will not be shamed into my hallway by a 2.31" worthless insect who will probably just crawl into my mattress anyway."
Then my mind starts racing for solutions...because I'm thinking the longer I stand there wonderin' what to do, the longer that bitch-roach is sitting there thinkin' how to get out, stat. Plus, I thought he might remember that he has wings, and fly into my face...which --obviously-- would be terrifying.
Finally, I decide to drown the cockroach. All stealth-like, I hurdle across my bed to the table where I have two bottles of water (never breaking eye-contact with the Invader, mind you). From a safe distance of approximately three feet, I began tossing water on the Invader. Apparently, roaches are water-safe. I had no idea! Why doesn't anyone tell me this shit? I mean, these bastards don't drown? I do this to spiders ALL THE TIME and it always works...why don't we learn this in college?? It should have been taught alongside Greek Mythology and Underwater Basket Weaving! Ugh!
Then, the roach is wet and thoroughly pissed off, so he starts running...and I'm chasing him with water. Then I realize, it ain't workin and I'm slip-sliding all over my tile floors in my flip-flops. So I grab my sneaker. But I seriously might puke from the thought of crunching this thing...so luckily, there was on old, dirty towel covered in black eyeshadow near...I grabbed said towel and like a bandit in the night, I threw it over the roach...AHA!!
I then proceeded to take BOTH sneakers and smash wildly at the towel. I've been staring at the corner of my room with the towel and sneakers and I've seen no signs of life in the past 23 minutes. I think he's dead. But he also might just be outsmarting me...waiting till I turn out the lights for bed and then crawling into my hair. I can't be sure. So, just to be on the safe side, I am working up the courage to pick up the whole pile and throw it over my balcony, into the parking lot below...well, minus my sneakers of course. I like those.
...just had to share that with you because Monica has no internet access and Jeanne is well, ya know how she is with roaches.
xoxo"
Post Script, Aug. 21: the towel with sneakers on top still sits in my corner...untouched. A shameful admission to both my lack of cockroach-courage and gym-visits.
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