So, today was the day, in which I conquered an army of bugs. These little fuckers had wings and probably tiny machine guns...since they were an army and all, but I fought valiantly. It was like that one scene in that one movie with that one guy where he's fighting and stuff...except it was me versus a bunch of bugs, but it was just as epic.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning. I came home from work today with a serious need to pee. I pause momentarily in my room (the lights were off) to cast off my heels. I book it to the bathroom, taking off my clothes [this isn't a sexy post, I swear!] to get ready to work out and pee (I like to multitask). So, I'm in the bathroom, taking my much-anticipated pee, when I feel something crawl on my leg. I look down. No biggie, just a little fly-type thing. When I tried to Google image search this creature, I found terrifying things. So, I quickly halted the search. Here's my interpretation of said fly-type thing:
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| Despite the resemblance in this image, fly-type thing is of no relation to Gumby or any of his crew. |
David Attenborough would probably call it "slightly accurate" (and by "slightly accurate" I mean "that's the worst fucking thing ever made, Kleine, stop emailing me this image asking what kind of fly it is. I don't have time for this, I'm a big deal.") Basically, fly-type thing was completely harmless, maybe half an inch long, brownish-black, with slight wings (that seemed to serve only as decoration).
Anywho, I simply flick fly-type thing off of my ankle and move on with my life. I get back to my room and turn on the light. But, on my way to my bedroom, I became increasingly focused on my fingernails. You see, I decided on Saturday that I needed to get them painted. I suppose I was trying to do this whole "feminine" thing, but soon enough the paint started to chip ever so slightly, despite my best efforts. So, I sit down on the bed, my skirt halfway off, and I am gleefully picking the polish off my nails...it's a cathartic pleasure.
As I am gathering flakes of pink polish off my nails, I notice one fly-type thing crawling on my bed. Again, no biggie. Just flick him off. I resume my nail cleansing using my teeth because I am classy and continue to get undressed to work out. I then notice another one and then my eyes magically learned how to work and shit. got. real.
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| My hair looks like that. |
I abandon my animalistic removal of nail polish and frantically flick off fly-type things. With a surprising lack of forethought, I was astonished to see a shit ton of fly-type things on the floor of my bedroom.
At this point, I knew I needed to get it together and take care of business, or bidness, if you will. The thing is these fly-type things knew what they were doing. I'm sure this was a pre-planned attack. They probably all met together today, complaining about the heat (especially since they had to carry heavy, tiny machine guns... they are a fly-type army after all), and then they heard the beautiful A/C in my apartment blowing and assumed a military formation and just marched right on in. But, why me, of all the apartments with A/C in my building?
These fly-type things probably knew that I was a vegetarian for moral reasons and made the sadly mistaken assumption that I wouldn't fucking crush them. Let it be known to the animal kingdom that I do not care AT ALL, not one iota, about bugs, spiders, or any of that shit. SUPPOSEDLY, they all have an evolutionary purpose, but we are all rotting with global warming, so evolution isn't even working right anymore and more importantly they all look creepy. [That, right there, is a rock-solid argument. Richard Dawkins, I challenge you.]
I'll be honest, I didn't get it together immediately. There was a lot of flicking of fly-type things off of my bed and half-assed use of dry paper-towels. But, do not fear readers, Kleine got her shit together and got kind of sadistic with these fly-type things:
At a certain point, probably after seeing the source of the fly-type things coming from my window, I knew I needed to fully disrobe out of my work clothes, so I could get real surrious. So, I put on some low-quality clothing, knowing that this could get messy, as I was single handedly performing a mini-massacre. I put my hair in a tight bun (see above image) and planned my attack. It started out slow and sloppy. I grabbed some Clorox wipes and just wiped em out (bonus: my windows are slightly cleaner!). However, I did not have enough Clorox wipes to account for the population of fly-type things. I then began to use the left over Clorox juice (it's not juice) in the container and papertowels. But, alas, that could only last so long. And then I remembered about an old ass can of Raid I had in my evil possession. And I opened up that old ass can of Raid (AKA whoop-ass):
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| I grew a unibrow at this moment. |
I killed every last one. At a certain point, I just started picking them up and throwing them in a trashbag that was filled with noxious fumes. I knew I needed to remove my sheets and duvet cover from the bed since fly-type things were rubbing all up on it. Removing my sheets from the bed is the equivalent of a fucking three-act play production, hence my unwillingness to do it more than once every month (and by "month," I mean "2 months," and by "2 months," I mean "never"). I then emptied out my room and wet-jet swiffered it, which I hadn't done in forever. I was goaded into it by all the dead fly-type bodies littered on my floor, they were mocking me and my unwillingness to clean. At this point, I felt slightly bad for the act I had just committed:
But, after cleaning it all up, I quickly forgot all about mourning my new found violent leanings and the annihilation of a species of fly-type things and instead, snuggled my cat:
Those paintings were awesome. Especially of the kitteh :)
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