So last night I was doing my weekly holy-shit-it’s-Sunday-night-and-none-of-us-have-clean-underwear laundry when an enormous cockroach scurried across the floor and when I say “scurried across the floor” I mean “tried to attack me and eat my face off” and when I say “enormous” that really doesn’t do it justice but I’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to come up with an analogy to convey to you just how big this bastard was and I simply can’t do it. I started to say it was the size of my forearm, but then I realized that I don’t actually know what the forearm IS. I guess it’s in the front of the arm somewhere, right? Isn’t that what “fore” means? Like, forward? So it would be the part of my arm that faces forward? Does that make the other part my “backarm”? I’m so confused.
Plus, sometimes I like to do my jazz hands walk to entertain myself and usually I do that like this:
So what part of the arm is “fore” NOW? HUH, INTERNET?!?!
Also, is there something wrong with my ring finger? It looks like a potato.
Anyway, clearly I had to ditch the “forearm” analogy so I changed it to “hamster” but it turns out I also have no idea what a hamster is. I mean, I know it’s a little furry rodent that lives in a cage and likes to run on a wheel for fun – DUH – but there are all these other little furry rodents that live in cages and run on wheels (which, WTF, little furry rodents? Find a real hobby) like gerbils and guinea pigs and mice and rats I can’t tell ANY of them apart. I think whoever made these animals did it just to screw with our heads. And no, I don’t mean god, I mean the mad scientists who have special labs hidden underground and in volcanoes and stuff where they perform crazy experiments and turn people into mutants and genetically engineer huge, dangerous cockroaches and plot to destroy the world by confusing it to death. Obviously.
So, not knowing which of the furry, scientifically-created rodents is most like the gigantic, genetically-altered cockroach, I’m just going to say that this bitch was FUCKING BIG and leave it at that.
And besides, the point IS that this giant cockroach tried to attack me and eat my face off and I was freaked the FUCK out so I ran into the bedroom to get the Big Bean because bugs and dead things are his domain (it is in the marriage contract) but he was sleeping and I tried to wake him up to do his husbandly duty but he just kept brushing me off and even when I shook him really hard and slapped him, all he did was open one eye and mutter something about how I should leave him alone or something.
He is SUCH an asshole when he’s sleeping.
And there I was, totally on my own against this monster and no idea what to do, so I got my broom because a broom is the most logical weapon against a large rodent-sized cockroach that wants to eat your face off and I went after that sucker like a fucking NINJA, y’all.
Well, okay, I didn’t. I WOULD have if I could have found it, I really would — but by then it was gone and the only place for it to go was my gym bag so I’m pretty sure it’s in there right now, waiting for me. Today’s visit to the gym could be REALLY exciting.
Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep last night. I was too upset and every time I’d drift off I dreamed about the cockroach eating my face off, but not ALL of my face, just my lips, so I kept waking up and desperately groping my face to make sure that my lips were still there. So I’m operating on a few cylinders shy of a piston right now. Or whatever. I don’t really know pistons. Or cars, or anything.
But for the record, I DO still have my lips. So far.
P.S. The Big Bean slept like a baby. Asshole.
P.P.S. I know a bunch of you picked topics you wanted me to write about but I’m sorry, this cockroach story just HAD to be told.
P.P.P.S. If anyone has the answer about this forearm issue, please get in touch with your senator. It’s important and needs to be addressed in a public forearm. I mean, forum.
P.P.P.P.S. I think I should clarify that I really only do the jazz hands thing when I’m walking down the hall at work. Or at the mall. I don’t do it when I’m just standing around. That would be ridiculous.
P.P.P.P.P.S. Don’t even bother with the hamster thing. The whole mess is just too convoluted. If you think about it too hard, the terrorists win.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. You didn’t really think you’d get out of reading this post without seeing at least ONE picture of my adorable kid on vacation, did you?Stumble it!