Friday, August 19
Why why why do I always have to be the one that runs into one of these things every so often? Even if my mother is a neat freak and I am a sufferer of obsessive compulsive disorder? Almost to the point of Adrian Monk? Yet, they still stealthily crawl all over our house - through the little [clean] cracks in between where the walls or walls/floor meets, etc.; and a shitload in many little cracks and shit in the basement. They flourish in humid and dark areas, and the basement is full of those little areas. But about the ground floor, one would pop out when I first come into a room and flick the light on. Then in all its glory, somewhere on the floor, is that piece of hundred-legged scary stick shit. Along with its billions of brothers and sisters in this world, to give me a heart attack. Somehow, they know about my disappointing eating habits and are planning to teach me a lesson. Stupid fuckers. They're just skipping the simple heart attack and teaching me a lesson part; at this rate, with so many recent sightings (and swattings), they're going to kill me.

Keep in mind that no one else in the house for some reason ever runs into one these house centipedes as so seldomly as I do. Just stupid chicken pussy Christina who this time after splatting the goddamn thing with a pink fly swatter and watching its hundred legs scatter all over my kitchen, vaccuumed up all of its remains in the Dirt Devil Up-Right Vac. After watching its severed body and leg twitch separately, of course.

Although I'm terrified of creepy crawly animals (if they're even worthy enough to be considered animals in my world), once they're incapacitated and incapable of incapacitating me anymore, I love to watch them squirm in agony and eventually die. And probably the same thing vice versa happening to me in the near future, according to karma and the good conscience.

Cousins left today and yet this house has another guest coming to visit - almost permanently, perhaps. My father's uncle is coming with his son from Seattle, to discuss with my folks for letting his son to stay with us while he goes to the major art college in New York. Right now I don't know any details, such as in how old he is, how long he's going to stay here and/or college also, or if he's hot or not. If he's hot then I'm just about fucked. I'll be stuck in the "Incest or not?"-type situation that the Baldwins have to deal with.


Christina N. @ 12:17 AM