The bug that wouldn't die.

It is widely known that roaches can survive pretty much anything. They can still be up and walking around with their head cut off; they always seem to push through the pain of being squashed by my shoe (thrown from afar); and they are said to be the only thing that is going to be able to survive a nuclear blast. Here's what happened when I encountered one of those nuclear blast surviving roaches.

I walked into my living room, noticing a large brown spot on my light beige carpet. I didn't have my glasses on so I had to get closer to make sure it wasn't a stain or some lint off of my black slippers. When I saw what it was I jumped, I screamed, I ran around in circles. This is only the second bug I've seen in my place since I moved here. I had to have a plan.

Now, when I moved into my lovely uptown apartment I sprayed Bengal around the entire perimeter of the place, in every crack and crevise I could find. Living in Mississippi (with the biggest bugs EVER) helped me find out that little handy trick. So when I came across this huge beast of a bug on my floor, he was already on his back (thanks Bengal), but still fighting for his life.

My first plan: Throw phone books on him and do a tap dance on top of the books.
Result: Plan was thrown out when I remembered that he was on my soft, plush carpet.

Plan 2: Sweep him into a dustpan and throw him out the back door.
Result: When I attempted to sweep him I ended up turning him over and he started walking away. Screaming and jumping didn't phase him either. I had to sweep him until he was back on his back.

Plan 3: Put a wet paper towel on him, THEN sweep him into the dustpan. Move the dustpan into the kitchen (hard surface floor) and proceed with the original phone book idea.
Result: Got him into the dustpan (score one for Tracie), and pushed the dustpan into the kitchen with the broom. I was scared to pour him out of the dustpan so I just left him there to hopefully suffocate.

1 hour later - He crawled out of the wet paper towel and was now chilling on top of it. Almost like he climbed Mt. Everest or something, just perched up there feeling proud.

Plan 4: Knock the dustpan over with the broom, then throw 5 phone books on it, tap dance on top, and he'll be dead.
Result: When I knocked him out of the dustpan, I ran. Later, I peered around the corner to see that he was no longer in the paper towel, but he was still on his back. I had to get another wet paper towel, cover him again (which required me getting hella close to it), and then continue with the phone book plan.

Conclusion: I danced, twisted, and jumped on those phone books like I was crazy. I went to the store to get some Hawaiian Bread Rolls for Thanksgiving (my contribution) and when I came back, my phone books were gone!

Teehee. Just kidding. That's my mom's favorite joke, the "Roach stole my phone book" joke.
When I got back from the store, there just so happened to be two maintenance men outside talking. I asked them to pick up the bug for me and they did. That was nice.

I mean, what is a single, bug-fearing, girl like myself to do?
Add something else to my "What I like in a man list:" a man who knows that I'm scared of big bugs and will kill them without any hesitation. King Kong killed dinosaurs for that white chick, why can't I get somebody to step on bugs, pick them up, and not chase me around with them?

Can I get an AMEN?