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<i-7> So my kitchen has counters on both sides, it's a walk in kitchen, very narrow <i-7> There I am, attempting to cook weird Russian cereal that looks like it was made for communist peasants <i-7> When I look down, and shift my baggy pants leg, and there is a MASSIVE Texas size cockroach next to my foot, scurrying out from under my pants <i-7> I simultaneously leap up onto both of the counters like it's fucking Splinter Cell, swearing like a sailor who just discovered the rash he got from that sketchy waitress in the last port <i-7> And as the cockroach books it out of the kitchen, I somehow devolved into Ned Flanders-speak <i-7> "Jesus fucking Christ holy fucking shit goddamn diddly hibbly jibbly widdbly diddly doo" <i-7> Or something like that. No idea where that came from. I don't even watch The Simpsons. <i-7> Currently playing "the floor is lava" with Confederate war songs blasting from my laptop while checking up on the pot full of simmering water
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