kafka-esque

I was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner this weekend when Mack walked into the room, looked up at the ceiling, and froze.MACKMom! Mom!MICHELLEWhat? What?MACK(Pointing)Look!I looked up at he ceiling, where he was pointing, and there, just hanging out upside down, was this giant cockroach. The kind that we used to call "water bugs" in New York, and that some people call "German cockroaches" or Southern regionally, "palmetto bugs." I would post an illustrative picture here, but when I did a Google image search for "giant cockroach," I basically DIED OF GROSSNESS, which is an actual fatal medical condition. Truth.I have a phobia of roaches. I mean, I know everyone hates roaches, but I really, really hate them, mostly because I grew up in an apartment in Manhattan and roaches were just everywhere. See, in New York, it didn't matter how nice your apartment was, or on what floor you lived, or how scrupulously clean you kept your living space. If you lived in New York, you had roaches. Period. Sure, we had all sorts of traps and devices to foil them--your standard roach motel, sprays, little strange blobs of poisoned bait we would smear in various strategic locations.  My friends in school swore by this kind of crazy roach killing "chalk" that you could only buy in Chinatown (somehow the notoriety of this chalk hinged on its seemingly underground and illicit nature, like, "You need roach chalk? I know a guy...") with which you were supposed to draw with on the in...
Source: the underwear drawer - Category: Anesthetists Authors: Source Type: blogs