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May 18, 2004


I hate roaches. And not the kind that... nevermind. Some people would think unseemly things.

The disgusting crawling kind that sort of shuffle across the carpet until they realize you're trying to kill them, and then take off at a mile a minute.


I had one get away from me earlier this evening when I realized it wasn't a really ugly cricket. Trapped it under a Dixie cup, tried to scoop it up, and off it went. But the little moron went back to the scene of the crime as I was preparing to brush my teeth. Idiot.

It called for some serious MacGuyvering. So I grabbed another Dixie cup from the bathroom dispenser. I then dug to the back of the cabinet for Stridex pads, stuffing two of them in the cup in hopes of melting through his rubbery little exoskeleton.

And then I lurched for the vermin, sealing his body squarely in the mouth of the cup. Not content, I smashed the cup down, hopefully putting the acid directly in contact with his body, and I can only hope burning a hole directly through his little bug head (but given roaches can survive being microwaved and frozen, I doubt it).

Somewhat satisfied, I let go of the cup to see if anything would escape. Nothing did. Grabbing a spare sheet of printer paper, I quickly slid it under the cup, wrapped the whole mess into a makeshift package, and beat the living hell out of it on the bathroom tile.

Let that be a lesson to any other cockroach planning a visit!

One friend has told me the process up to this point was a little excessive. But it gets better. Since I absolutely hate the things and don't want to take any chances, I decided to entomb him in coffin with a yellow-and-blue-make-green seal. Mr. Roachy is currently in the bathroom trash can, securely sealed away in an impenetrable Ziploc fortress. Unless cockroaches have suddenly developed a way to chew through sandwich bags after being violently murdered, I think he won't be paying me another visit.

Fine by me. The squirmy little bastards can live all they want, so long as it isn't on my property.

I'll take the wolf spider Dillards sent home with last year's Mothers Day gift over cockroaches any day (and that one leapt at my brother before setting its desires on my armrest -- all while driving down the freeway, naturally).

Posted by Colin at May 18, 2004 12:25 AM

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I hate roaches more than I hate onions, and that's a whole hell of a lot. I've had two roach escapades in the past six months or so. The first one was in my spare bathroom and was being batted around by the cat. The dirty little thing was trying to climb up the side of the tub only to be swatted down by the cat's clawless paw. I doused him in roach spray and watched as his disgusting little feet spasmed about. The cat has the audacity to throw me a nasty look that clearly said, "Fuck you! That was my toy!" The second roach made an appearance as I sat at the computer. The cat was sitting beside me staring intently at the hallway leading to one of the bedrooms, but since cats are freaks and tend to stare at thin air, I wasn't too concerned... at least not until I saw her pounce at the very large, swiftly moving roach coming from the hallway. I shooed the cat away (who, again, told me to fuck off) and trapped the roach under a large plastic drink cup from Burger King. For good measure, I put my big O'Reilley Javascript book on top to keep him from escaping. I was too grossed out to even get rid of him, so there he stayed for a couple hours. I finally got up the courage to slide a thick piece of cardboard between the floor and the cup. Luckily, he didn't escape, but I almost tossed my cookies when I heard his legs fluttering and scraping against the side of the cup. I ran outside and flung him over the balcony and heard a solid splat as he landed on the sidewalk below. I should have smooshed him, but I was just too grossed out. Ugh. Now I feel like I have bugs crawling all over me!

Posted by: D at May 18, 2004 2:40 PM

Most bugs don't bother me, but cockroaches are just nasty. Probably because of the fact they come up the drain. And I know what I've put down that drain. And where the drain pipes lead. Ugh.

I also identify with the cat portion of your story. Cats are completely insane. One of mine is convinced anything that moves is a thrilling toy. She tries to catch bees, even, between her paws. The other runs away from bugs, lizards, or whatnot and cries while hiding behind my legs.

Posted by: Colin at May 19, 2004 7:42 PM

Sweet Jesus. Sounds like my place. One of them about 3 inches long was hanging out on the wall in my bathroom when I woke up. We engaged in hand to hand combat... he lost.

The most recent was only an inch and a half or so, and I managed to capture him inside a sealable transparent plastic container. (Fortunately I had a few drinks first, or else I'd have been too freaked out to cover him and then seal it.) He's still sitting in my kitchen. I like to eat in front of him, and breathe, since he can no longer do either of those things. It's the next best thing to putting his head on a pike as a message to all those other ones clamoring to get through my doors.

Posted by: Adam at May 19, 2004 10:33 PM

I hate flying sewer roaches.

I have a septic tank and I get the fun opportunity to see these guys every year!


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Posted by: Robert at May 27, 2004 4:30 AM

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