27 February 2006

I really f'n hate bugs.

That is all.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Do you mean bugs/viruses or bugs/cockroaches?

d in t

11:52 AM  
Anonymous spurringirl said...

Or mosquitoes?

3:51 PM  
Blogger Mrs. Peel said...

Roaches. They make me go all obsessive compulsive.

4:24 PM  
Blogger Russ said...

Roaches. Filthy little vermin. At least mice share warm blood with us.

7:47 PM  
Blogger Russ said...

Of course, I mean that they're warm blooded mammals, like we are. Not that they actually share blood with us. After all, your average mouse doesn't weigh 95 pounds, so even if they WANTED to share blood with us, the Red Cross wouldn't let them do it.

7:49 PM  
Blogger Mrs. Peel said...

f'n Red Cross.

8:27 PM  
Anonymous The Roaches said...

Oh, c'mon! Didn't you see Joe's Apartment? We're adorable!

10:16 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

get a can of bug spray.

and a zippo.

hilarity ensues.

d in t

10:21 PM  
Blogger Monty said...

Ever see a cicada up close? Now that's one ugly bug. And wasps -- man, I hate wasps. One time I was mowing my back yard, felt some burning-hot darning needles pierce my legs, and looked down to see that I'd run over a ground-wasp nest (yellowjackets or "ground bees"). Twenty-two stings, and my legs swelled up like Popeye's forearms that night. I mixed up a couple of gallons a water/bleach mixture, waited for dark, and poisoned those little bastards. The next day I dug up the nest and burned it.

And one time I found a spider in my garden that was about the size of my hand -- I was gonna kill it, but then I figured: hey, this thing will eat every bug in the neighborhood (and maybe the possums and squirrels that try to climb on my deck). So I left it alone. But man, that was a huge spider.

8:14 AM  
Blogger Mrs. Peel said...

That's why I like spiders and snakes. They eat things I hate.

As for roaches, I go all obsessive compulsive panic attack-y when I see one. I can't even kill them. I have to call a man (or a less panicky woman) to do it for me. And then I have to go for a very long walk before I can relax my arms and shoulders and stop being on the verge of tears. And then it's weeks before I can enter the room where the roach was without a stab of fear.

Let's not talk about this anymore.

9:59 AM  
Blogger Monty said...

Mrs. Peel:

You oughta move up my way. It's too damned cold in Minnesota for cockroaches. I don't think I've seen a single once since I've lived here (six years in June). If you want a horror-story about roaches, let me tell you a little tale about a hotel I stayed at near Amarillo, called the Kings Rest Inn. *Shudder*.

You don't wanna know. Trust me. It was like Aliens, only with cockroaches.

10:10 AM  
Blogger Mrs. Peel said...

Unfortunately, it's also too cold for me...hell, Texas has been too cold for me these last couple of weeks. I'm glad it's finally warming up a bit.

11:24 AM  
Anonymous Michael said...

Wait until you've had an eight-inch long poisonous Texas red-headed centipede run across your foot when you're wearing flip flops. Then you can talk to me about getting the bug creeps. That was way worse than sitting on an occasional scorpion concealed in the chaise lounge and actually getting stung.

11:39 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

we'll be here long after you are dead and gone.

-- the cockroaches.

oh, and one false move and we lick the pot roast

7:16 PM  
Anonymous Enas Yorl said...

Aha! Every super-hero has a weakness, and you have foolishly revealed yours! This datum has been collected and will be deployed againt you at some future date.


10:32 PM  
Anonymous geoff said...

When I was away at college, I had occasion to sleep on a mattress on the floor. One night while so disposed I was awakened by a tickling on my face. I brushed at the source, opened my eyes, and glimpsed a roach scurrying away.

I was a little bit freaked, and slept poorly the rest of the night. The next evening I lay in bed, a can of Raid at my side, determined to slay the beast should it reappear. But I dozed off and was again awakened by the dread tickle. This time I snapped on the light, and was revolted to see that the fleeing roach seemed to have an egg sac protruding out its aft end. I could only surmise that it intended to lay those eggs in a snug, warm place - namely one of my nostrils. To add insult to injury, it took refuge in my shelves of science fiction.

After a completely sleepless night I took all the books out and did track down and end the roach and her buddies (there were 2 or 3 more hiding out). Never more were my nostrils to be trifled with by roaches.

1:52 AM  

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