Tag: what is my life even

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my exciting life silly texas

In which my housemate saves my life

So no shit, there I was.

Which is to say, I was in my bedroom, because I needed to take a shower and wash the gel out of my hair. I turned on the light, and there was a thing on the wall above my fucking bed. A big, brown thing. It had approximately five million legs and a switchblade. It was a cockroach. A fucking cockroach. And not just a little one. One of the Texas-sized ones. You know, these.

I need you to understand something. I grew up in Colorado. Until forced to move to Texas, I literally had only seen one cockroach “in the wild” in my entire life. And that was an incredibly well-fed german cockroach in a super sketchy Chinese buffet. I am not psychologically prepared to handle this shit.

Which explains the next thing I did, namely scream, “KATHY, I NEED YOU RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW. KATHY. KATHY. COME HERE.”

My housemate, bless her forever, hurtled into my room. Yes, that sure was a massive cockroach that was SCURRYING DOWN MY WALL AND AAAAA

There was an undignified scramble to grab the vacuum cleaner, because that’s apparently an amazing way to kill giant cockroaches. Then we had to figure out how to get the long tool attached. Then THE COCKROACH WAS ON THE FLOOR OH MY GOD and Kathy tried to suck it up with the vacuum but it ran under the file cabinet.

Suddenly I was like that guy in the action movie. You know, the guy who gets sent to open the door that the evil alien monster is drooling behind by a jerk of the chin from the guy who has the BFG? I HAVE SEEN THESE MOVIES. I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS TO THAT GUY OKAY. Carefully I turned the little file cabinet over. Nothing. “Open the drawer,” Kathy ordered. I righted the cabinet and, very carefully, opened the drawer. THESE MOTHERFUCKERS CAN FLY OKAY.

The cockroach ran across the files in the drawer. I totally didn’t scream.

(She totally screamed.)

Kathy thrust the vacuum cleaner attachment into my hand and I tried to get the roach as she ran out of the room and LEFT ME ALONE OH GOD WHY. But the roach was wily, and strong, and it called me a bitch and spat at my feet as it ran out across the carpet, murder glinting in its evil little eyes. I got it a good one with the attachment, but then THE ROACH JUST RAN RIGHT BACK OUT OF THE FUCKING HOSE OKAY THIS ROACH WAS WEARING DEPLETED URANIUM ARMOR OR SOMETHING.

As my life flashed before my eyes Kathy charged back into the room, shoe in one hand, can of Pledge in the other. With a mighty battle cry of “LEMONY FRESH, MOTHERFUCKER!” she sprayed the roach with furniture polish. It slowed the ravening beast and then, at great risk to her own life, she beat it to death with her shoe.

And that is the story of how my housemate saved my life tonight.

(The cockroach was subsequently buried at sea.)

Categories
cats Uncategorized

The Joys of Cat Ownership

So I’m going to talk about poop. As an adult I can do that, right, without the immature giggling? Well, to be honest, I’d be giggling myself probably if I wasn’t the one this happened to. You know, that laugh you do when you’re so grossed out you can’t do anything but laugh?

Which brings me to how I woke up this morning. With Loki (the cat) digging at the carpet and trying to bury something. This is never a good sign when you own cats. And indeed no, it was a fleck of poo. On the carpet. A poo crumb, if you will. I went into the bathroom to get some toilet paper and the Nature’s Miracle (blessed be he or she who invented it) and was promptly hit by the stench.

There is nothing in the world worse than cat poop. Except cat pee. I don’t know what the hell happens in the diabolical inner machinery of these adorable little shit monsters that makes everything they excrete toxic to mere mortals. It’s not like the dried food bags come with biohazard or radioactivity warning stickers on them.

But the smell, people. The smell sticks in your nose almost as bad as formalin, to the point that hours later I feel like I want to lean in close to my coworkers and whisper, “Is it me or does everything smell like cat shit today?”

Anyway, at some point in the early hours of the morning, there had been a poopsplosion on the inside of the cat box. I don’t know, maybe someone finally managed to kill and eat a june bug and it disagreed with them violently. And there was a trail of poop crumbs through the house, like a path sowed by Satan himself. As a bonus, my carpet has flecks of dark brown in it naturally, so I spent a lot of time this morning crawling around and picking at brown spots with wads of toilet paper, unable to tell if they were carpet or poo and unwilling to get close enough to check by smell. Not that it would have done any good, since my nose is so burn out that everything has a faint hit of eau de poo.

These are the things they don’t warn you about, when you get cats. They may be cute and fluffsy and have adorable feet (oh my god look at your tiny pink feet!) but some day you will end up squinting at the carpet, wondering if that fleck is a bit of fluff or something far more sinister, and you realize you really ought to put in your contacts only they’re in the bathroom, the same bathroom that contains the cat box, which is radiating visible smell rays that will at the very least make you sterile if not just outright give you cancer.

Of course, there was also the great poopsplosion of ’07, when Loki (the cat, not the Norse god who looks rather like Tom Hiddleston) woke my then-boyfriend and me out of a sound sleep by jumping up on our bed while he had most of a turd ground into the fur of his butt1. At least then, all of the poop was localized to the butt of the cat. The shrieking, wailing cat that we had to give a bath to at oh my god in the morning and it’s a miracle the neighbors didn’t call the police that time.

So I guess what I’m really trying to say is that it could always be worse. Happy Thursday!

 

1 – Honestly, it probably would have been easier if it had been the Norse god, because even if he’s big and cranky and magical, at least he doesn’t have a furry ass2.

2 – I mean, it’s not like I know for sure or anything, but it seems fair to assume that as it does belong to a god, Loki’s bottom is smooth and pleasing to both touch and eye3

3 – Though come to think of it, it’s not like we’ve seen him without his trousers on4

4 – Get Marvel on the phone, I just had the greatest idea ever for Thor 3

Categories
Uncategorized

If I keep following Kevin Bacon, it’ll end in a restraining order.

Because Downton Abbey sucker punched me right in the heart, I decided a serial killer soap opera chaser was an awesome idea.

So Kevin Bacon is a drunken maverick and some shit with his sister and he sort of but not really bonds with Mike the adorably scruffy FBI kid but… I actually don’t even care that much. Aside from a flashback that involves adorably drunken Kevin Bacon, the FBI people have lost my interest entirely, and I’m really just watching them for the big reveal that everyone but Kevin Bacon was a secret serial killer all along or some shit like that.

This show is truly a soap opera, and the serial killer threesome of Jacob, Paul, and Emma are where it’s at. As disturbing as it is to admit that.

“You kill Megan and I’ll make pancakes.” And this is why I find them compelling in a way that creeps me out if I think about it too much. They’re so disturbingly… domestic. And familial. And they have so much more in the way of interpersonal dynamics than Kevin Bacon being drunk and grumpy and tragic and refusing to actually have meaningful interactions with anyone he hasn’t slept with.

With our serial killer trio the huge revelation for this episode is – gasp! – Jacob’s never really killed anyone! (Paul ratted him out; I’m guessing Jacob must have confessed to him during a drunken (no homo!) makeout session.) The shock with which this is greeted by Emma is adorable, like someone being told their lover is somehow actually still a virgin. But he seemed so normal! Later we get a flashback of the story he made up about killing someone, like he was just trying to impress his frat brothers.

The poor woman Megan goes from being Paul’s problem to Jacob’s, as Emma and Paul decide this is the perfect time for Jacob to bust his serial killer cherry. And instead, Jacob ends up letting her go, which really does lend credence to Emma’s earlier question of what in god’s name he’s doing with this crew of nuts. Paul and Emma chase the girl down, roll around in the mud a lot, then go take a shower together.

And this is the bit that made the episode for me, if made is really the word I want. Jacob discovers Megan, muddy and tied up in the basement. Then goes to find Paul and Emma in the shower. They both look at him, tell him we aren’t going to give up on you and then, I shit you not, there is a group hug. Can someone please explain to me how the hell three supposed psychopaths have become the most human characters in the series?

I am now officially incapable of watching this show un-ironically. Well, I think I lost that ability somewhere during the second episode, but I’m admitting it now. Emma/Jacob/Paul has become my OT3 and I’m not sure if I can even live with myself any more.