(no subject)
I really have neglected this journal havent I?
This is the start of some half-assed regular updating.
Erm.
Well.
Yes.
I hate summer. Tis the season when humungus cockroaches from hell come out to play, hordes of the hideous beasts scurry through kitchens intent on their plans to 1)Find the biscuits and destroy 2)Run up table/human legs 3)Take over the world. Just this second one did a tap dance above my monitor, was
this (<--------------------------->) big I swear. I squeeled and did the "Icked out" thang, while Dad just sat and grinned at me. Bastard. I managed to trap the ugly little twat under a cup (the cockroach, not Dad) and now its making painfilled scurrying noises from under its porcelain prison.
Why do they always go after me? Are they attracted to my pine fresh scent? Does my voice reach those legendary octaves only cockroaches can hear, and I call to them every time I use this angelic voicebox? Do they realise how hollow my head is and wish to enter it, via the ears, filling the cavity with straw and droppings, and using it to nest in, to raise their young in, and as a place to house their weekly poker night in.
There is nothing more unnerving than getting into bed and seeing a nasty big cockroach walk across your doona cover. Hmmm, thats not really true, but still it happened to me once and I've never forgotten.
I bought the black books 3 season box set yesterday. Ooooohhh yeah.
Words I cant spell: tomorrow, school, porcelain, alcohol, beautiful.
Words that sound dirty but aren't: affluent, gazebo
This is the start of some half-assed regular updating.
Erm.
Well.
Yes.
I hate summer. Tis the season when humungus cockroaches from hell come out to play, hordes of the hideous beasts scurry through kitchens intent on their plans to 1)Find the biscuits and destroy 2)Run up table/human legs 3)Take over the world. Just this second one did a tap dance above my monitor, was
this (<--------------------------->) big I swear. I squeeled and did the "Icked out" thang, while Dad just sat and grinned at me. Bastard. I managed to trap the ugly little twat under a cup (the cockroach, not Dad) and now its making painfilled scurrying noises from under its porcelain prison.
Why do they always go after me? Are they attracted to my pine fresh scent? Does my voice reach those legendary octaves only cockroaches can hear, and I call to them every time I use this angelic voicebox? Do they realise how hollow my head is and wish to enter it, via the ears, filling the cavity with straw and droppings, and using it to nest in, to raise their young in, and as a place to house their weekly poker night in.
There is nothing more unnerving than getting into bed and seeing a nasty big cockroach walk across your doona cover. Hmmm, thats not really true, but still it happened to me once and I've never forgotten.
I bought the black books 3 season box set yesterday. Ooooohhh yeah.
Words I cant spell: tomorrow, school, porcelain, alcohol, beautiful.
Words that sound dirty but aren't: affluent, gazebo