Chin Hair

It was heard on the radio that 85% of people with lung cancer die.
That makes me want to have lung cancer just so I have a shot at being in the 15% of people with lung cancer who don't die.
Then I could be blonde AND immortal!

Like this guy:

Mike was searching for American teams to play in FIFA.
Mike: The Chicago Fire?
Me: Yeah! I went and saw their stadium.
Mike: Oh really?
Me: No.
Mike *looking at stats*: WOAH! This guy's fast!
Me: Is that because he's on fire?

lolz

I know that it seems like all Mike and I ever do is watch TV and play video games, but that is simply just not true. We also cook and play mini golf and go to work (one of us) and school and live out normal lives.
Ish.

But we have the most awesome kitty in the entire world!!!
Prepare yourself.
Here comes a true story.

Last night, I was going to go take a shower, and so I walked into the closet to get my clothes.
There was a big, old nasty cockroach that scuttled into my piles of shoes.
So I did what any reasonable female would do.

"MIKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG! MIKE! COME HERE! RIGHT NOW!"

Mike's like, "What?"
And I, breathing heavily, explain the presence of the cockroach.
"So kill it." Mike advises.
Sam, off to the side, looks curious and interested in this matter.

I reluctantly go to the shoe pile and start moving stuff around to try to find it and kill it, but it scurried off to a place unknown.

At this point, my mood took a sharp turn based on the following facts:
1. There is a COCKROACH in my CLOSET that is ALIVE.
2. My boyfriend doesn't have the valiant courage to find and slay the thing because he hates it as much as I do.
3. THERE IS A LIVE COCKROACH. IN. THE. CLOSET.

So I after I take my shower, I go back to my closet to hang clothes up assuming it has crawled off to the deep bottom roach-dwelling depths from which it came.
But no.

It had somehow climbed on TOP OF MY CLOTHES in the closet and was sitting RIGHT where I needed to hang things up. As if it KNEW that I was going there and wanted to haunt me.

So, like any reasonable female, I screamed.
Again.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!!!!!MIKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THERE IT IS AGAIN!!!! KILL IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Mike: You kill it.

Sam, off to the side, is still interested in all of this noisy commotion.

At this point, I'm in this terrible mood because of the following facts:
1. There is a live cockroach in our house.
2. Boyfriend wants me to kill the thing of which he is equally, if not more so, afraid.
3. IT CAN CLIMB THINGS NOW.

What's stopping it from climbing into the bed at night and eating my face off like a zombie from Miami?
You guys remember my spider incident? Yeah- I don't need to add "cockroach" to the list of things that have crawled across my face at night.

And then Mike's like, "We should probably check the bed. Just in case."

After some ice cream and bed checking, I grumpily go to sleep. Sam comes into the room all kitty-like, but then about 45 minutes after I go to bed, he starts jumping around as if he's hunting something.

Something like a cockroach.

I cowered beneath the sheets. Cockroaches are so disgusting. How do they even make it up to the third floor anyway?
Oh, that's right.
They can CLIMB and FLY and do terrifying roachy things!

Somehow, I fell asleep.

This morning, I woke up and Sam was sniffing something underneath the bed skirt.
I looked, and there it was, belly up and dead.
Sam killed the roach!  Such a good and protective kitty!
I was sure to give him extra fancy feast before I left for school. :)

So it turns out Sam, the fixed and therefore gonad-less cat, had the balls to do the thing neither Mike nor I could do.

Which is kind of ironic, if you think about it.

Trusting things beyond mistake,
TWS