I'm going to need a minute

I need to take a minute and share with all of you my traumatic experience this morning. I dragged myself out of bed, turned on the shower, looked down and saw that my right foot was about 2.5 inches away from the BIGGEST cockroach I have ever seen not on the National Geographic Channel. This thing was the like Transformers of bugs.  

 

I wish I could tell you that I handled the situation gracefully but I did not.
 

I didn't even know how to remedy the situation. It was too early in the morning to deal with. I just stood there staring at it in disbelief. Then the fact that it was real and breathing and had it's own zip code finally sunk in and I screamed and sprinted out of the bathroom so fast my way out of that bathroom so fast his little cockroach top hat spun. I had no idea how to kill him. There was no way I could just squish himwith a piece of toilet paper as if he were your average spider.  I was afraid that if I  bent down that he would roundhouse kick me in the face like we were in a steel cage fight. I ended up throwing my  National Geographic Worldwide Knowledge book (hard cover yo!)  on top of him and promptly ran away screaming like a small child. I'm not even going to tell you all how much I had to psych myself up to lift up the book and put the "thing" into a trashbag. I wasn't sure if I could handle it. I did ponder moving out but I didn't want to leave Kerry alone with the evil bug.

My skin seriously would not stop crawling all morning. I keep obsessively scratching myself like a meth addict. I  hate cockroaches. I would rather a mouse show up and  be all "I'm bunking with you!" than one single cockroach scuttle through my bathroom. 

It's moments like these where I wish I had a boyfriend so that he could do things like kill bugs for me. Which brings us to.....RED HEADS.

Last night I was watching Glee. One of the main characters met his girlfriend's parents who were racist ginger supremacists. Yes I had to bold that just because I wanted you to laugh as hard as I did. Basically the girl's parents hated the bf because he wasn't a red head. And they wanted to preserve "gingers" since gingers are a recessive gene and will "die out in 30 years." They also went on to talk about all of the great attributes of dating a ginger.

Which I consider myself an expert on. You see from about Feb of 2011 to July 2011 I dated a red head. The only way I can explain it is with this picture below. And Yes I'm blaming it all on Ron Weasley and JK Rowling.  Dating a ginger was an interesting experience. However I can honestly say there were some perks. For example, I could always spot him in a crowd. After my triathlon I was trying to find him and my other friends who had come to watch. Now the finish line was in down town DC and there were thousands of people there. But I caught of glimpse of his fire engine colored hair and was able to flag them down. The other advantage was the fact that he always had sunscreen since his skin was sensitive.  Also I could always tell when he was lying because his face would turn red. And finally, it was nice to date someone who was paler then me which never happens. So there that's pretty much the 4 advantages of dating a ginger. The 3 disadvantages are: 1.) Fearing that if you get married that your children will inherit their father's genes and be teased during school. 2.) Having your landlady who lives next door ask him if his hair color is really "god given or did he decide to do that to himself. Because if he did decide to do it to himself he needs help." and 3.) Oh realizing that not only are there other woman out there who will date a red head but some will actually go farther then that and MARRY A GINGER. 

Yes I found out far along in the relationship that the Ginger used to be married and got married before he was even of drinking age. Do you want to know what I was doing when I was 21? NOT GETTING MARRIED. Needless to say the relationship ended. Upside I don't have to worry about my  future children having red hair. They can thank me later. Just like I thank my mom for not marrying that super short squaty guy she dated in college. Brian and I are thankful everyday Mom that we aren't 4'9 and don't have sqaure heads.

Lesson Learned Kelly. Lesson Learned.

The only ginger I will make an exception for is this one:

 That's right. Attention all single gingers. Unless you have a puppy and are Prince Harry I want nothing to do with you.