Not Alan Anymore

I’m blogging from my mobile phone because I’m a busy, 21st century woman for whom time is most definitely money, but really because one of the cockroach teens broke the screen on my laptop so I can’t use it at the moment.

It (the cockroach teen) ran out at me as I was sitting on the floor with my laptop on my on my knees. I yelped, of course, simultaneously jumping half out of my skin, as any sane person would in that situation. The momentum of my out-of-skin jump sent my laptop soaring in a graceful arc from my lap to the floor. And now the screen is broken. Because of the cocks. The roaches. The croaches.

The croaches continue to taunt me in other ways. A few days ago I killed three of the fuckers. BOOM! Dead. Done.

Well. Almost. That’s leaving out the part where I got in the shower only to notice one staring at me from the ledge at the top of the tiles. Little pervert, I thought. Luckily there was a bottle of bleach nearby so I grabbed it and COATED the bastard. It froze, shuddered. A split-second passed in which I fully expected it to melt into non-existence like the Wicked Witch of the West, Oh what a world, what a worrrrrld!

NO. It (the cockroach) – and I swear this is almost entirely without embellishment – LAUNCHED itself at me! It (the cockroach) had bleach bubbling through its skin, and instead of just having a bit of dignity and DYING, it SPRUNG TOWARDS me in what I can only presume was a final attempt to take me down with it. I almost laid an egg in my pants. For realz. I was so taken aback, so revolted, so bloody SCARED that I’d have croachy legs scuttling all over my shoulders, that I let out a WHINNY OF FEAR. A WHINNY! I didn’t even know humans could make that kind of a noise. Who knows what the guy next door thinks – as soon as I processed the noise I’d just made, I errupted into hysterical-yet-horrified laughter. The croach was on the floor at this point, prone. I nudged it with the end of my broom (*shudder*). It was dead. Thank hell.

Later that night I used Michael Swan’s irreplacable ELT tome, Practical English Usage, to kill the shit out of two croaches hanging out on my walls. I wonder if the great man knew when he was writing it that he was in the process of creating one of the most efficient weapons in the perpetual war against roaches? Probably did, right?

Aside from Nature, loads has been happening in the old Kok. Attendance at roller derby sessions has fallen to an all-time low but we’ve got a visit from a BKK-based magazine next week which I HOPE will boost numbers. As a favour, and because I’m a fookin’ idiot, I’ve allowed myself to be entered into a speed slalom tournament in a couple of weeks. I am dreading it – TOTAL humiliation awaits. I genuinely cannot do slalom, let alone do it quickly. I die inside every time I think about it. However, I DO get to go to Vietnam. This will balance out the shame. PROBABLY

Finally, here’s a dull image of the anti Amnesty Bill protests outside where I work. It fails magnificantly to capture the energy and power of the moment, but this is only a 5mpx camera, yeah, and I’m totes using that as my excuse.

image

Well, that’s all from me. I’ve been some dullard who continually goes on about insects instead of all the NORMAL stuff you’re supposed to write when you’ve moved to a new continent to start a new life as an ELT teacher and set up the first roller derby team in your new country of residence and there’s a backdrop of absorbing political unrest, and you’ve been my very tenacious, patient, probably brain-dead by now audience.

Thank you and goodnight ♥

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2 thoughts on “Not Alan Anymore

  1. davidbrookesuk says:

    Hilarious as usual! Thanks for the guffaw.

    Two questions though.

    1. Why are you wearing pants in the shower.
    2. Why do you keep a broom in the shower.

    The lack of question marks means that these are more inquisitive accusations than questions.

    Enjoy the ‘Kok.

    d

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