Holy Mother of God… that is GROSS

And I’m not talking about that nasty pork loin I made a few months ago Click here for a picture of that gross thing. This gross thing was… alive.

I spotted it crawling across the hardwood floor in the living room, and it ducked under the sofa. It was faster than the dog – not a good sign. I looked for it, sort of. I looked, but didn’t want to find it, cause if I found it I would have to do something. I didn’t want to do something to something that could do something back to me. After a few seconds of half-assed searching, I retreated to the bathroom to finish getting ready for work.

And you know what? That bastard bug FOLLOWED me! It crawled into my bedroom (yeah, I said it. BEDROOM!), up the side of the dresser and planted itself right in the middle of my bureau’s mirror, so when I looked at it, it looked 10 times bigger. WTF! I have to hand it to him (or her). It was quick and smart. And disgusting. And HUGE. I’m not kidding, I bet it was 3 inches long.

I grabbed the first thing I could find, my husband’s golf towel, and WHAP! I struck it! I did it! But where did it go? Oh, holy Mary, Mother of God, I flung it somewhere! Is it on the floor? Is it on my bed?? PLEEEEEASE don’t let it be on the bed. Did it fall into my underwear drawer? WHY DIDN’T I SHUT THE F’ING DRAWER??!?! This can’t get worse! Oh, but it does… it does…

I eventually spot the corpse, jammed between the mirror and the jar of change on my dresser. But, wait! I’ve seen horror films! That thing is probably UN-dead and will move as soon as I try to touch it. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a pair of BBQ tongs (which, have no fear, are now nestled in the trash) and reached out to grab it. And, you guessed it! It made a run for it. I freaked out, screamed really loud, and WHAP! I slammed the tongs right down on top of it, neglecting to take my finger out from between the grabbers. “YEEEEOUCH!”

So, now I have a really painful bruise on my fingernail. It is MUST worse than it appears on camera, believe you me. I didn’t get the town to issue a permit to bury that bastard bug, but I bet I needed one. And a hazmat suit to clean-up the debris. If my finger turns black and my nail falls off, I am going to be REALLY unhappy.

Let this be a lesson to all you nasty ass bugs out there. Stay outta’ by freaking house, or I’ll hurt myself trying to kill you. I MEAN IT.