whitty a la city

Operation: Hiss Hiss Bang Bang

Storyline: "No roommates? On the contrary..."

First thought: Mouse.

Second thought: No frigging way.

Third thought/realization: Cockroach the size of a mouse.

Soundtrack: La Coo Ca Racha!

Plan of Attack: KILL

Weapon of choice: Heel of woman's size 10 shoe

Notes:

Crunch crunch crunch... murdering a cockroach was like trying to staple a snake to the ground. Or asking a man to nail down plans. IMPOSSIBLE. Which is my number one fear (snakes, not men), so you can imagine my jovial attitude towards the little you-know-whater. I was like a Honey Badger sitting on my bed, waiting to pounce, and he, the Cheshire Cat. Appear. Vanish. Scamper by shoe. Pick up shoe. Nothing. Something... the only reason I knew he was still there was because I could hear him chewing on an abandoned sunflower seed. I would not succeed on Fear Factor. When I finally nailed the sucker (solid content for Americas Funniest Home Videos), it smelled like someone opened a Ziploc full of hard boiled eggs. From last Easter. How someone justifies consuming one is pathetic, wrong and beyond me. My gag reflex did not bode well just being in the same room.

I partook in an involuntary routine this week… whilst shampooing my disheveled melon in the shower Monday morning, a fire alarm sounded. I live on the 20^th floor, so not only was I less than enthusiastic to take the stairs with hordes of people, but I looked like a drowned Persian cat. I opted for not burning to death, and made my way to ground level. False alarm of course. And the elevators were out of order once we were allowed back in the building, so I hoofed it up le stairs (winter conditioning flash-backs, barf). Good way to start your morning- drenched in soap scum and sweat. Tuesday evening I stayed with my best gal pal who was visiting from WYO, so there very well could have been another alarm without me knowing. Wednesday morning, same thing- shower, alarm. Instead of evacuating, I decided to shave my legs and brainstorm my letter to the mother of the girl on the 16^th floor, thanking her for teaching her offspring how to cook eggs without burning a 20-story building down. Thursday, nada. But Friday, er, this morning… 4:10 am- alarm. Nope, staying in bed. 5:02 am- alarm. Not only annoyed at this point, but going deaf. 6:15 am- alarm. Rage is an understatement. As I write this, I literally received an apology email from Housing Services. Nope, not good enough. I want a handwritten letter from the electrician. In blood. Which still won’t make up for the sweat and tears caused from pit stains and calf cramps.

In more bright and sunshiny news… check out some pics to see what I’ve been up to as of late...