Fear Factor (Or "My Encounter With the Most Cliche Phobia Ever")

Last night marked a momentous but wildly unhappy occasion - my first cockroach.

While watching an episode of "Dawson's Creek" (fourth season, thankyouverymuch), something scurried out from underneath the chair in which I sat. Pointing, screaming & willing myself not to throw up, I stood by doing very, very little as my friend chased the little BIG bugger around my one-room apartment & finally did it in with one of my beloved Chuck Taylors, now hiding underneath the bookshelf where the roach tried to slip underneath:



A few notes:

• Cockroaches are fast.
• I am scared of cockroaches.
• COCKROACHES ARE FAST.

I had no idea I was so terrified of the city's most hated pests, but there I was, hyperventilating like an asthmatic teenage track star, too frightened to even cry. There I was, even after the beast had been slayed & disposed of, jumping at imaginary movements seen from the corner of my eye. There I was, calling my mother in hysterics & rambling on & on about how I thought there were bugs in my bed & how I wanted to move, rent a hotel room, throw away my belongings so future (current?!) roaches wouldn't have anywhere to hide.

Today, I woke up with a heightened sense of fear but also with a renewed sense of feistiness. Observe! I bought this just in case of a recurrence:


It'll probably give me some rare cancer, so I'm gonna try not to use it unless I reach some sort of dire situation, though please cross your fingers against that. For day-to-day life, I purchased these instead:


So now these small chemical weapons are scattered throughout my minuscule apartment:


Listen, bugs - I'm fightin' back!