Motherfuckin roaches in my motherfuckin bathroom, yo.
I'm not kidding, this roach last night was at least 3 inches long...ok, maybe only one inch long, but every time I think about it, he gets bigger. It had been a quiet three or four weeks at chez nous. Thank god, because Gord's mom was here and I know she has some roach trauma in her past, and I didn't want her to have PTS while she was visiting. Thanks roach-bitches, for that little detente. Much appreciated.
But they lulled us into thinking we'd won, and the very next day after Chris and Murray left, we saw one...then another...one more...finally culminating in the 3 foot long, giant ass roach that was crawling down the bathroom door last night when I was going to pee before bed.
And my man, with me squeeling and flailing ineffectually, my man kept his head, took control of the situation and with one hand killed that 8 foot tall motherfucking roach. I am so proud. I may one day breed with that man. Just so his mad roach killing skills get passed on.
But now, I can only step inside our bathroom if I fling the door open, scan the room for visible roaches before entering, then look behind or under everything in there. And even then, I'm still too freaked out to perform. Thank god school has started again. I need somewhere to pee.