Fear is what quickens me

Hey, everybody. Sorry about posting this so late in the night. Today was our first day back at school, and it was a long day. Also, it's freezing rain here right now. That doesn't really have anything to do with why my post is late, but I thought I'd add it as a fun fact.

There used to be a time when I wouldn't tell anybody my fear because I thought if Nineteen Eighty-Four ever came true then I would be in a lot of trouble whenever they threw me into room 101. But now since everybody in the world knows my main two fears because of MySpace, I guess big brother's already won anyway.

First, my main fear is my fear of flying. That's the one that causes me the most problems. But that's also the one that's the most boring, because everybody's already heard all my good scared of flying stories. Plus I haven't been on a plane in six years. It's pretty easy to avoid flying, when you just drive everywhere or take the train.

Second, cockroaches. It's not pretty easy to avoid cockroaches if you live in the south. In fact, despite the fact that today it hasn't been above 38 degrees Fahrenheit all day long, there was a roach in Ginny's apartment earlier. I hate those dudes. First off, it sucks that they're gross. Second off, it sucks that they're big. That's enough to be a big problem right there. But no! There's a third off. Those motherfuckers can fly! You should get two out of the previous three options, max. I wish I was calling those shots.

Even dead roaches are terrifying to me, because roaches have a really mean sense of humor. For example, you may see a dead roach and say to yourself "My, there's a dead roach. I better pick it up and dispose of it forthwith." But then when you pick it up, it yells "Surprise motherfucker!" and runs down your throat.

So that's why when I was in high school I paid my 10 year old sister to throw away a big dead roach for me. And why when my good friend Jane visited me once in Tallahassee, I begged her to get rid of a big dead roach. I'm a bad host/big brother.

Also, roaches are mean. Did I mention that? Anyway, when I first moved in with Laurie and Martin back in our disgusting house, there was a gigantic roach on my bed. I tried to get my cat Ophelia to eat it, but it hissed at her (I swear). So suddenly, I decided that I would be kind hearted, and I got it out of the house alive. Come three nights later, when I walked into our kitchen, the same fucking gigantic fucking roach is on the ceiling above me. It drops down, yells "Hiya, pally!" and starts flying at me. This time I got Xerxes on the case and he ate it.

An earlier incidence of cockroach dickery was in high school. (PS - I know there's no linearity in this post. I'm really tired). I was transferring some medical records at my dad's office in the big medical records room. I noticed a roach on the far wall, but I decided not to go kill it. After all, it was on the far wall. So I get to work, and fifteen minutes later that six-legged motherfucker drops down on the papers in front of me. If it had just dropped onto my face a couple of inches away I would have instantly died. The brain would have said "There's no longer any point to live now that there's a roach on my face. The end."

So in conclusion, roaches really suck, and do it to Julia.