Don't Look, PETA

When I was a teenager growing up in Latin America, my parents came home one day after I had been home alone, and there were cups all over the house. Turns out, I'm a bug-a-phobe and couldn't kill the cockroaches, so I pinned them down for my dad to take care of later.

Ten years later, I am still a bug-a-phobe. I never see them very often here, but they are pretty big. Lucky for me, Blake is nice enough to kill them as long as I admit that it's an irrational fear. I always agree to the bargain. Well, Blake has been gone for around 5 days and on the last night before he came back, it was WW3 here. There were (not kidding), 5 cockroaches (one flying), 6 moths, and a grasshopper. And this was all from midnight to 2 AM. And Blake was on the phone with me the whole time. My method of conquering is to stun them with some sort of spray. This time it was windex. Then, once they are on the ground, I spray them over and over again until they either drown or are so pinned down that they won't be able to get up. Then, I leave them for Blake to clean up. I'll admit, the flying cockroach was my biggest nemisis. I was bawling like a little girl, but managed to peg it on one shot with my flip-flop. Then I sprayed it dead. The first picture is of the grasshopper lying in a pool of Windex (still alive after several hours and I hope it was suffering). The second is the flying cockroach covered by a paper towel. If you look really close, you can see the antenna sticking out.

Sorry, PETA, I have no remorse. And FYI - when I asked Blake to proofread this, he wanted to make sure I remembered that I have an irrational fear. I'm still okay with that.