i love the smell of napalm in the morning...
a quick cockroach story. on my first day of work for the associated press in nyc as a naive 20 year old, i was introduced to my boss in our "office", which happened to be in the lowest level of the paramount building on 50th st. and 8th ave. (coincidentally, the same corner where i met you and your family
). it was a level below the juxtaposed subway tracks for the #1 train.
no sooner were the handshakes over when my new boss said "turn your head to the side" as he picked a cockroach off my neck. i guess i was fresh meat!
ever since then, they have been my sworn enemy. the cockraoches; not my bosses.
while i worked down there, i used to keep a squirt gun full of denatured alcohol (aka anti-ronjohn fluid) for the sole purpose of dousing then torching the little buggers. what was scary was the larger ones, almost the size of your palm, would survive the blue-ish inferno and drag their scorched exo-skeletons off to their hiding places using their remaining appendages.
the skin on my neck still crawls when i see one.
ok, back to destroying the environment out of sheer laziness...