Tuesday, September 20, 2011

A Tale of (Actual) Triumph

This is the inspirational story I was hoping would happen with the post office incident, where lots of people would see me beat my anxiety and act like a functioning human being. Well, we all know how that went (if you don't, click here); this tale of triumph happened in my bathroom, while everyone in my apartment was asleep, so no one could appreciate my heroic defeat of my fears. I was going to write this out in my typical fashion (and post a picture of what it looked like, but I can't bring myself to Google images of this thing), but then I told it to someone who knows me amazingly well via Facebook chat and thought this was a good opportunity to show that no one takes me seriously (for good reason) and that I really couldn't make this shit up. So without further ado, my Facebook chat with TheSemen:

Me: OMG! I have to tell you

Semen: wut

Me: I killed a roach today in my bathroom…BY MYSELF
       (begin heaping of praise)

Semen: did you really?!
            I don’t believe you

Me: I did!

Semen: you hired a team of assassins to take it out most likely

Me: I went pee and as I was washing my hands I caught sight of it on the wall, shrieked and fled
       I finished rinsing my hands at the kitchen sink

Semen: lawl you’re so funny

Me: then I realized id left the water running! so I went in and shut it off and assessed the roach's position then I closed the door, making sure to barricade the crack at the bottom with a towel and went and put my sneakers on, and grabbed another sneaker for roach crushing. I went back in the bathroom and repeatedly hit the wall with my shoe, yelping like a retard each time it made contact. Then I had a stroke of genius and went to look for roach spray. Found some under the sink, sprayed half the can on the roach, sprayed a little more on its carcass (to prevent any zombification) and VICTORY! I killed a roach myself

Semen: I can picture this

Me: I know you can! That’s why I had to tell you ’cause you know me so damn well

Semen: do you think that maybe the half of a can was a bit excessive?

Me: I don't understand the question
        the roach was alive, now it is dead BY MY HAND
        I fucking win!

That's the epic roach story! I felt fucking invincible after the fact, and then couldn't fall asleep thinking about where the hell they keep coming from and then reassuring myself that "it's not a big deal, this is only the second one (you've SEEN) and the first one was when DH was still hanging around, so you're probably OK." Disclaimer: I know from my time spent on message boards that DH is an accepted abbreviation meaning 'Dear Husband' on this blog it means 'Dick Head' and is the name my illustrious mother attributed to the last man-boy I had hanging around. 

Yes, I said 'OMG' I'm really fucking lame, OK? Anyway, just in case you don't know TheSemen and I's relationship, that was totally a sarcastic 'you're so funny.' By 'funny,' he usually means 'should be institutionalized' so no worries, people who have known me for years don't think I'm funny either. 

Also, I know it looks like I asked a chimp to format this for me, but it was just me and blogger hates me, so this is what it looks like. I know, it makes my OCD act up too.

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