The Jar-Man Cometh

After a too-long break from blogging, I come roaring back today after much outcry for a new post (I'm talking to you hell's kitchen station domination)

Well, as previously stated, I have migrated West, just like my ancestors, but luckily I didn't have to cross a desert, part a sea and chisel 10 commandments into a stone tablet

HOWEVER, I had a very uncomfortable encounter with a member of the Roach family in my new apartment. And no, I don't mean that all-girl singing group my father always used to play in the car


Nor do I mean the remains of a marijuana cigarette


But IN FACT the small insect: Genus; cock, Family; roach--looking a bit like this


Which was startling to say the least, but thank g-d for small favors that it didn't resemble my toilet bug from Costa Rica!


Well after smooshing the cockroach, which I did feel bad about, you know, you think, "does this have a mother? is this the mother? have I left a gaggle of cockroach babies without a teet to suckle from???" I also realize that the majority of this last sentence proves that I, in fact, know nothing about how cockroaches are born, bred and brought up, although I would imagine that it's VERY similar to that movie ANTZ where they all live in a colony and all the women sound like Sharon Stone.

But I love the apt, love my neighbors and love the cookie monster stuffed animal that someone carelessly left behind when they moved out....oh no, what if that belonged to the dead baby cockroach that I killed and the mama roach couldn't bare to be reminded of her son by carrying around his fav stuffed animal as they migrated to a new home because the big black reef sandal kept killing them at 357 W 54th street?!?!?!?!?!