Call Me Xena

So a friend has been casting aspersions on women's abilities in the roach-killing arena.

Well, I was horrified tonight to find a massive Godzilla-sized roach in my bathroom -- despite having the exterminator here relatively recently and despite not, you know, living in frigging squalor. My first instinct was to climb on top of the vanity, waving my hands and shrieking. Alas, as there is no one else around to kill said roach, that would mean ceding control of the house to him and resigning myself to a life atop the vanity.

And then the transformation came over me. I was Mr. Hyde, I was the Hulk, I was someone, but certainly not me. All I know is that when my senses were restored, my hair was in disarray, all of my many shoes had been tossed to the four corners of the bedroom, my dogs were cowering in the living room...and there in the closet before me lay the dismembered remains of the former Mr. Roach. I have a vague recollection of roaring in this guttural devil voice, "DIE!! DIE ALREADY! I'M GOING TO KIIIIILLLLLL YOOOOOOOU!!!!!!"

I sincerely hope my neighbors could not hear me.