Tonight I was talking to a friend in California when a GINORMOUS tree roach FUCKING! TREE! ROACH! THREE INCH GOD DAMNED ROACH! climbed up the wall, cast an eye on me, and ZOOMED MY DIRECTION!!!! I screamed as I threw the phone, landed the bastard on the floor in a daze, fortunately, on it's back.

He is no more.

No weeping and pass the margaritas.

Of course, I had to yell out "I'm ok! I'm ok!" not only to my California friend, but my husband who had just gone to bed and I heard scrambling in the next room.

I hate roaches.

My husband thinks I "should be used to them by now" having grown up in Florida, but I say WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN "USED TO THEM"??? HOW CAN ANYONE EVER GET USED TO GOD'S MOST VILE CREATURE??? besides, you know, The Fly... heh...

Here's a story, and it's true... when I was a child, my cousins and I were all dumped off at our grandmother's house in Tampa, Florida. All our rents were going out for the night and grandma got the brunt of twelve unruly runts for the duration.

It wasn't too long before we were all on our giant pallet made of blankets and pillows, laying on our stomachs, watching tv in the living room, as Grandma sawed logs in her Lay-Z-Boy behind us.

One by one, the elbow nudged the side, a face lifted to peek behind our bodies at our sleeping grandmother, a calliopy of giggles gathering in waves at her feet as the GIANT COCK ROACH climbed across her face and into her mouth and SHE CHEWED IT AND SWALLOWED IT AND WE ALL LAUGHED AND LAUGHED AND LAUGHED... we hated our grandmother, every one of us. It was so much easier to let her eat GOD'S MOST VILE CREATURE than to try to intervene.

mr. zippy thinks I should be used to cock roaches, but I never will be.

and I clench my jaw so tightly when I sleep that I sometimes wake with migraines.