Two days in a row on my way to work I have seen a bumper sticker that says, “Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup.” What?
I am only half awake this morning. That’s the half that came to work. The other half is still lying limp in my bed. Snoring. (It actually quite resembles Spliff. Oh wait, it is Spliff. I got confused.) I haven’t had any coffee yet and the phone at my desk is already ringing every couple of minutes. Questions. Problems. Whining. Don’t they know that before noon, I don’t care?
Last night, since Spliff was driving home from redneck hell where she spent the last week babysitting some almost family rugrats, she stopped in to hang out for the night. I took her to the bar that the cheap beer radar missed to kill a little time before Jerm’s band started playing.
Everything was fine until the second round when I saw something the size of my face crawling towards Spliff. Mutant roach of the apocalypse. Seriously. Huge. Of course, we screeched and managed to escape it until it was on the floor. That’s when things got sticky. That’s when Spliff started saying, “Step on it! You have big shoes!” This was true. And honestly, I thought, “You can not beat Doc Marten, Mr. Huge Roach.” But I was sorely mistaken. I stomped. It charged me. Like I was a matador. Like it was ready to go.
Me: “Take THAT!” Stomp.
Mutant Roach: “Girl, is that all you got? Don’t make me take my shoes off.” Charge.
Me: Scream. Run. Scream.
Mutant Roach: 1, The Criz: 0.
When someone finally killed it and I felt safe to go back to our original spot, my hands were shaking and I was itchy all over. Hate. Hate. Hate. Bugs. Especially the ones that are about my size and charge me when they refuse to die.
Mother Nature, was it absolutely necessary to put all of the world’s most disgusting creatures in the state that I live in? Just wondering. Not that I don’t enjoy killing snakes in my bathroom or sharing my bedroom with lizards or being chased by indestructible roaches, I just think that some of the other states are lacking in this department. How about sending some of this stuff over to, like, Iowa or something. I mean, what does Iowa have?
Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "The Thing that Only Eats Hippies" - The Dead Milkmen