Cockroach Killer Extoardinaire

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A bug was harmed in the making of this post. Just not this one since it was outside in the safe zone

I’ve never had to deal with cockroaches before, count me lucky, or sheltered, but I know what they look like. My friend has that as one of her big fears, cockroaches she told me can fly, Sarah, seriously! This friend of mine also recently discovered that she has an intense fear of sink holes, which she just recently discovered and she said they can follow you and happen anywhere.

I am a bug person since the age of three I’ve had memories of grabbing ants (even fire ants, ouch) and putting them in my clear plastic purse. Crickets, grasshoppers, moths, caterpillars, rollie pollie bugs, about every bug you can think of I’d collect. As I’ve gotten older I still have an appreciation of all things creepy and crawly, yet, I’ve changed since I was a little girl. If a bug is invading my home I will most likely kill that bug with a vengeance, they will get especially annihilated if I caught them in my bed.

There is no love for bugs if they are found creeping around my home, though they can only wish that I have compassion the day I find them and I might try to let them outside. If they get caught in our home again I doubt I can find it in my bug loving heart not to crush them to pieces. My husband does not have my killer instincts and so we have taken on opposite roles to say the least. So, when my husband and I went to visit our little pet and he nearly fell over I thought he had hurt himself, which was not quite so.

He saw a cockroach, jumped onto the coach like a girl, and told me to take care of it. That bugger was huge, so I did the logical thing.

Me: “I’m going to get my killing boots, be right back.”
Husband: “Don’t leave me with it, come back here!”

I headed over to my closet on the opposite side of the apartment and searched for the perfect killing boots. I couldn’t find my favorite pair so I went with a high top type of boot after five minutes of searching, pulled up my pajama bottoms, and stomped on over. My husband was on the couch cowering, asking me why I’d left him for so long, he wouldn’t stop hiding on the couch. The cockroach was, of course, hiding as well.

I wasn’t going to be done until I killed it, so I searched around and was able to rush it out but I missed killing it and it darted under our couch.

Me: “We need to move the couch, it’s hiding, get up and help me move it.”
Husband: “What if it attacks me?! I don’t want it to attack me!”

It took quite a bit of convincing but he did move the couch and lo and behold… The cockroach was someplace else. I was on the hunt so I flipped over a pillow and found it, and went into killing mode. I may or may not have sworn while I was stomping it to death and did more than a double tap, more like a twenty tap to make sure it was dead. You gotta remember cockroaches can survive anything, and they are probably like zombies, you gotta make sure that head is off to really kill them.

We then volleyed back and forth who would throw away the dead bug, but I did the killing, so he can take care of the cleanup. My husband then informed if there was a zombie apocalypse that he would be able to handle it. I highly doubt that and know I would just need my killing boots to be able to take on some zombies.

Flashing a stranger my bra

No, I did not take a one ticket plane ride to Vegas, got drunk, and took off all of my clothes without knowing, this was intentional. I thought I was prepared for the semi-annual sale to try on the limited amount of lingerie that interested me and was, of course, discounted. Lingerie being discounted is like catnip for me. I’ve taken notice of the women with dilated pupils clawing through bras and panties so I was not the only one.

The first time I came, the line had twenty people in it, the second time just as much, and I’ve learned that don’t buy something you haven’t tried on… Especially with a bra. That bra may look so pretty in the store, like my recent rhinestone bra I bought without trying on with the last sale. But, when you wear it with a clingy shirt it makes you look like some kind of bumpy breasted monster. I love looking at the bra, it’s my first and last sparkly bra because it shows through all of my clothes. I am now wary of rhinestone on any bras.

Luckily, this time, there were only three people ahead of me in line and so I took my place. My turn came up and the lady asked for my name, and something I wasn’t expecting.

What’s your bra size?

I kind of looked back at her, thinking knowing a bra size should help them if I need help. I told her last time I was measured what the size was, she looked at my chest, and shook her head.

I don’t think your that size, I think you might be this size. Let me measure you again.

I said that was fine, and maybe thought about measuring because of losing a lot of weight recently. She shook my hand twice, and I assumed the position of arms out to the side, and then at my waist. She told me the size she thought I was at bra wise, and went back to get it. The bra she came back with was tiny, and I kind of held it out in front of me with a surprised look. “I just am so not fitting myself in this, I mean, yeah, I just don’t think this will fit…”

It was my turn and I took my tiny bra and my reduced bras in the bag with me. They told me to try on the tiny bra, press the button when I was ready, and then my bra expert would be in to check it out. I rarely flash women my bra, if this happens I’m probably in Vegas wearing too low-cut of a shirt. I squeezed myself into that tiny bra and watched as my chest exploded from all sides, and front.

She has got to see this, which was my first thought. I pressed the button, she came in, and I pointed out the spillage from all sides. I went up another size, still felt like the bra had a vice grip on my breasts. I went up another size, it was better, I could breathe, but I still felt like my original size was the one I was most comfortable in. Then, the whole collection of bras were pushed underneath my door to try on in the I’mnotgoingtodie sized bra and I was seriously overwhelmed. There was like eight bras for different styles and to see which one I liked best.

I took a breath, and turned my attention to the two bras and cute little sleep number that I had originally brought with me. All I could think about was the line outside waiting for a room to open up and it’d only take me a little bit to see if I liked them. Plus, bra shopping is like bathing suite or jean shopping for me, it seriously gets uncomfortable trying on multiples and it gets less fun as I keep on going. I tried them on, liked them but didn’t necessarily love them like I can’t live without them in my life.

Then I remembered the boudoir photo shoot I bought and I have to muster up the courage to do one of these days. I needed a sexy little thing for that! Went back to the sales rack, came back, tried this little corset sexy thing on. It was in the size of one of the tiniest bra sizes they tried me in, and it definitely didn’t fit as a corset either. I was bummed since it was so cute on, and all I needed was just one size bigger. I went back to the racks, kept hoping for that one size bigger but it alluded me.

I left there empty-handed and with all of my excitement for shopping for discounted panties and bras sucked out of me. I flashed a lady  my bra repeatedly and squeezed myself into tiny sizes that squished my chest from all sides. Oh, and I locked my keys in my car and my husband had to drop off my spare key… It was quite a day.

Bring it on gobble gobble

I must be insane, or just plain crazy, or maybe a nice mixture of a little bit of both. I have both a turkey and a ham and I’m planning to cook them for thanksgiving for the first time in my life. Now, let’s not forget I have been adventurous in my house wife chef title and also rather surprisingly successful at cooking lately. I’ve made Cornish game hens, pork for the first time, steak, homemade baked French frites, and a wide number of unassisted dishes that have turned out rather delicious 99.9% of the time.

I’m getting cocky with all of my successes by myself, and having dinner ready on time for my husband when he comes in the door. We already have some favorite recipes I’m replicating week by week with tweaks that make it come out just as good or better. Yet, I just can’t help but to admit…

I am kind of scared of that turkey, and throw in that ham and I think I might be just asking for a holiday meltdown. I’m terrified to see if the turkey has defrosted and I have a sneaking suspicion it is stubbornly not going to defrost in time. Unlike my normal cooking expeditions where I don’t need any help I have made my husband promise to not leave me alone with cooking these two monster amounts of meat. He then kiddingly plays with me that he’ll help me… By pointing to the page on how to do it, which is not okay by me at all.

And, this is coming from the girl who successfully baked some homemade brownies for the first time in her life recently for my husband to bring in for his coworkers. This turkey has me terrified and why, oh why, did we have to get a ham too? Oh, wait, I know why! Because the ham was free with buying a turkey and why not double up stress and gobble it up too?

My husband and I are making new traditions, it’s the first time we are doing the holidays by ourselves. Normally my family goes to a restaurant thanksgiving day buffet and last year we did that and I got so severely sick I don’t know how I made it in to work. For someone who never really had a home cooked thanksgiving or Christmas meal I feel like my husband and I are making a really nice tradition even if the only family we have is us and our little bunny.

It’s the tradition of hopefully learning together to make a really great and somewhat traditional holiday meal. It’s hopefully a tradition of not going to the movie theater to have dinner on popcorn because that’s the only place that is open on thanksgiving or Christmas. It’s a day with some stress, but with the focus on being together and not creating more stress when there’s no reason to.

I miss my family, and will miss my husband’s family too over the holidays. Gifts will be sent by mail and I can’t think of a more stressful year than what me and my husband have been through with our move, his job change, and my job loss. But, I am thankful to have him, and our new little pet bunny, be my family for the holidays. And, I must say, he better be helping me with these giant pieces of meat because the thought of not cooking them completely might give me nightmares tonight!

What have I gotten myself into now?

So, I signed up for something that sounds like it’d be a lot of fun and if someone knew me and my dirty thinking ways it’d totally make sense. Except, if you also knew me besides my ability to make anything and everything sound dirty then doing this doesn’t quite make sense. Because, I’m not exactly shy, per se, but it’s even a little out there for me. And, I don’t mind showing off my chest area but I haven’t worn a pair of shorts outside in public since… um, I can’t really think of the last time except to go to the pool. And, I wear a cover-up over my shorts so I don’t think that counts.

Yes, I know, “Alright, Sarah, what did you do?!” Okay, I will admit it, I signed up for a Boudoir Photo Shoot. I’ve never done one before and I think the closest I’ve come to it is wearing my ‘Vegas clothes’ which are actually like corsets from Victoria Secret out on the strip. With jeans, of course, and my sneakers because I can’t wear sexy heels because I might break my hip from falling over.

I’ve seen special deals for it before advertised on those deals websites and I always go to the website and check out the pictures. But, this one was so nearby, and sounded like such a steal, that I impulse clicked it.

The husband was of course very interested and then I told him it would probably be done in a hotel. Which, he then said, “That sounds kind of shady… it’s going to be done in a hotel? Really?” Which I would totally agree with him but this actually I think is more common, because every site I’ve come across that does this has their pictures done at a hotel. Plus, I don’t think I’d ever want someone at my house because how would I get them out? Maybe if I go to the hotel I’ll say to the front desk people, “If I don’t come out in three hours, please come to this room number and barge in with some hot policemen!” Because, maybe I could use the hot policemen for my boudoir photos I keep for myself as a really early birthday present.

I’m also, like any other woman out there, very self-conscious about my body. From my chest up I’m fine, from my stomach down to my legs I’m not so much a happy camper. But, I can use this as a birthday gift for my husband since I seriously don’t have a clue what to get him. And, I’m hoping it’ll be like a gift for me to accept my body and be dressed up like a half-naked rock star.

The Halloween Aftermath… being drowned in chocolate

Give me the Reese's!

I’ve been rather good at eating and I’ve prided myself in that. When, normally, I couldn’t care less and I didn’t even think of checking out food labels now I’m more careful. I don’t have desert and stay away from sweets as much as I can. But, I just can’t say no when it’s sitting there, staring at me, flashing its beautiful foiling for me to eat it. It’s seductive, it’s chocolate-y, and it’s bite-sized too.

It is the aftermath of Halloween candy.

See, I worked on Halloween day and we had candy to give out to the trick-or-treaters if we got any. We saved the good candy (all the chocolate stuff) in the back for us girls. Me and one of the managers stood in the back diving our arms deeply into a bag of Halloween candy searching for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I think she and I ate all of them inside of that bag. It was a special moment we shared gobbling them down before anyone else walked into the break room and caught us in the act.

I’ve had way too much candy, but I can’t stop. Neither can my mother, she bought 2 lb bags of Halloween candy for her to eat that she says is for her work… yet I highly doubt that. I feel bad, but not bad enough to stop. I rarely ever buy myself chocolate and with it being around everywhere I turn I don’t have the will power to fight it. It ends up in my hands, then my mouth, and before I know it there is another unsuspecting little bite-sized morsel being shoved in before the other one is done with.

You know what is coming, right? First it’s Halloween to gorge yourself, then Thanksgiving as a never-ending buffet of turkeys and goodness, then Christmas to finish you off. It’s why we have New Years Resolutions, to feel less horrible about those three holidays of doom and expanded pants. I’m still going to end up eating like crazy!