Ok. I’m warning you. If you do not like bugs, go elsewhere. Go here. Do it. Right now.
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Are you still here?
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Are you mighty? Are you brave? You better be.
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This was in my house.
Ok, I’ll wait while you go vomit.
This was IN MY HOUSE. After spending 4 hours cleaning today, I decided that it was time for me to find out what the kids are up to these days and sign up for Twitter. I was very engrossed in this process, you see, because it is very hard to Tweet.
One moment, Craig was sitting beside me, watching Weeds. And the next moment, he was literally flying through the air. He landed in a crouch, under the window, and slapped the floor with a loud thwack. That’s right. HE KILLED IT WITH HIS BARE HAND.
I’ll wait while you go vomit again.
And then he picked up this godforsaken creature, put it in a baggie and, so help me God, filed it in our organizer right next to the unused and expired gift cards. We apparently have to save all the deceased bugs squatters in our condo to give to the board so they can hire exterminators.
Why did this have to happen, internet? I’ll never feel safe here again.
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I think it’s cute.
That’s a house centipede! Don’t kill it! it eats cockroaches.
What the heck is that thing?
I think I’m more horrified that you haven’t seen one of those before! I’ve had those suckers every place I’ve ever lived in the city. (Thankfully not many of them any of the places, but at least one everywhere.)
Unpleasant, but I’ve always thought of them as a Chicago tradition. (And, besides, my cats have always found them absolutely scrumptious. I think you need to give Marge a sound talking to.)
The best part is that you have it filed away. Who is the lucky one who gets to receive all of your neatly filed evidence?