yeah, um, this guy has completely psyched me out. i have no moral compunctions about killing him, but... that noise. that crunch. I...
I can't handle it.
also he is in the corner between the ceiling and the wall, so he's high and hard to get at.
also, I have a pu$y, and not a tough one like some ladies have. I have a dainty little vag.
at least, with my endless ability to make these things fun, it has turned into some sort of Experience. Where the experience is my room apparently being really messy and spontaneously generating bugs.
I will never hear the end of this. a cockroach has never been seen in our house, my mom nags me to clean, and voila!
edit: the point when it stops being semi-funny is when your dad wakes up and notices your lights are on, and is basically disgusted with you. and then he tries to get it, but it disappears into your room. WAITING.
so now I am afraid to clean my room? awesome. I think this has taught me a lot about myself, in re: remaining shreds of the illusion of manliness. especially because I still find it kind of funny, and will probably tell too many people this story.
now, I sleep in my brother's bed (he is out of town), just on the principle of refusing to share my room with a big ol' jerk of a bug. it has nothing to do with idiotic fear.