Me and la cucaracha; or: Thou shalt move thine arse off the floor to hath something accomplisheth.

This post is originally from last year, but strangely I never got around to posting it. So, since I'm scrounging for unpublished posts in my archive, I decided to have this forgotten little gem posted.

Before I write down what I originally meant to write here, I want to tell a rather... gross experience I just had several minutes ago:

I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, writing an email to my friend. All of a sudden a dark brown, shiny, pretty big cockroach came scuttling towards me at a quite high speed. I made a sweeping glance at the room lazily, and seeing nothing within reach that I can use to kill the cockroach, I raised my left hand and slammed my fist on it, killing it instantly. "PWNED!!" I scoffed in self-satisfaction.

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There was a sort of pregnant pause after that moment as I stared at my left hand (wet with cockroach innards) and then to the squished cockroach. As I washed my hand, I grumbled to myself, "What the hell was I thinking?" I should think that, had I a normal mind, my brain would have instructed me to got up quickly and look for something that would fit the job. But no! Apparently my laziness got the better of me so my brain said, "Oh, there's no cockroach-killing instrument nearby, so I will just use my left hand."

I don't know which is more gross: my laziness, or the fact that I used my hand to squish a cockroach. This post is gross, I don't know why I wrote this down. I'll just write what I originally meant to write in another post.

Ugh! Seriously.