Sunday, June 3, 2012

A cockroach, by any other name...

...would still be as gross. So, on a couple of other websites that I frequent, there are discussions that I've become involved in where the naming of things is being bandied about.

First, on the Team Flyboy thread on the forums on Gateworld, we're talking about bugs. Mainly, one of the girls found a spider lurking about when she moved her old stove out to clean the area in preparation for a new stove. I mentioned that not only do I hate spiders, but I hate all bugs in general. We've just moved, as I'll be discussing more in future posts, and have found that the bug-man needs to come to my house. I am not talking about the disgusting alien guy from Men In Black, but rather the super-hero who makes all the nasty, crawly critters go away.

Last Sunday night, our second night in our new home, I sat down in the throne room and prepared to take care of some business with Mother Nature. When I glanced up at the doorway (the throne room is one of those that is occupied by only the throne, the royal parchment and a small closet), I noticed that one of Mother's more disgusting, and larger, specimens had decided to share the throne room with me. I'm not into sharing. Cautiously, I used the parchment and dressed once more, keeping a steady eye on my room-mate. I slowly reached for the door knob and turned it, painstakingly opening the doorway. Yon critter moved. I screamed and made a run for the outer sanctum. My teen-aged boy came darting in, an Alaskan ulu knife in hand, to confront my attacker.

This is what he brought:




This is what he should have brought:




He found a sneaker and after a couple of whacks, dispatched of my foe, whose picture will not be posted for reasons of ickiness. Suffice to say, it was a big black cockroach, the size of a short bus. All right, it was more like a little bigger than my thumb. Either way, it was too big and too gross to be allowed inside my house. 

There's the (rather long-winded--surprise! not) story behind the title of my post. One of the other girls remembered living in Florida, as well, and said she had not been a fan of the Palmetto bugs that lurked lived in the tropical climate. She said that was the name she knew those cockroaches by. Personally, I don't care what you call 'em, long as you call 'em "not in my house". 

On the other website, LiveJournal, a discussion has begun on how things are called based on where you live. More on that tomorrow. I've got to go peek into the throne room before another visit, get some laundry together so I have something decent to wear to the teen's special dinner tonight (in honor of the Naval Sea Cadets, where he has risen through the ranks to become a leader and will be an E3 by the end of the summer), then off to empty another box or two in the epic drama that is moving and unpacking. 

So how do y'all feel about cockroaches? Good, bad, indifferent, terrified, disgusted? 

4 comments:

Char Newcomb said...

I always found oversized telephone books great for dealing with the critters. Aim & throw. Smash!

--Char

Lynne Kensington said...

I shall keep that in mind when I find myself without the menfolk around. :) Cockroaches gross me out so much, I can't even dispose of their remains.

Christy Olesen said...

Hi Lynne, I've never had a cockroach that large within my line of sight, but I do have a cockroach story. I was living in my first apartment, in Phoenix and I noticed one or two small brown cockroaches in the bathroom. In the bath tub! They'd come out of the overflow drain while I was taking a bath! I kept a paper cup on the side of the tub to scoop them up and toss them in the toilet, which I could reach without getting out of my bath. Bugs creep me out, but I only run if they're headed for me equipped with venom.
A few days later, I guess other tenants complained, a bug service sprayed the outside parameter of the building. After work I came in the back door and crossed the small living room and opened the front door. OMG. The outside of the door was covered with small brown cockroaches and as I pulled the door open they poured to the carpet like a waterfall. I slammed the door shut and ran to get the vacuum I'd borrowed from a friend. Meanwhile the little buggers were climbing up the drapes and my two kittens didn't know which one to go after. I sucked up most of them, shaking them out of the drapes. Then I stuffed the vacuum opening with a paper towel and stuck it into the broom closet. I never use it again and when I moved, I gave it back to my friend (it was her spare) without disclosing its contents. I was young.

Lynne Kensington said...

I'm shuddering just picturing this, Christine. Did you ever see "Bird on a Wire" with Goldie Hawn? The shower scene with the cockroach would've been me, but much more freaked out. I could never stay calm with them in the tub with me. If you haven't seen the movie, here's the link:

http://youtu.be/Pbr336D4trU

I lived in my first apartment when I was around 20, I guess. It was a nice place and I had no bug problems. Until a tenant moved out and the landlord sprayed their apartment. Apparently, the little buggers (no pun intended) made a run for the border and wound up in my place. They were in my bathroom, in my linens...just EWWWWWW! It was CT, so they were the little German cockroaches, but still. When I went on vacation shortly thereafter to CA (where my long-distance boyfriend proposed), the exterminators came in to do the whole place. End of problem.