naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Another earthquake. This one strong enough to scare the cats and briefly scare the crap out of me. Rattled the pictures on the walls and the windows and all the cabinets, nearly shook stuff off the mantel. The whole place was shuddering, and you could hear it in the ground, like wind. Lasted about a minute, about a 5.2 according to the news.

Really cool. Really not wanting to ever feel that again. EVER.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Angry)
And we just had ourselves a tiny little earthquake. Felt like having your feet on the floorboards of an idling truck, but I was napping in bed so it felt like a big cat scratching itself just out of smacking reach. Never felt one before. Can't say I care for it, but it was kind of cool.

Ironically, I click over to make the update, and the Wikipedia page I had left hope was for "tremolo."
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Tootsie Pops!)
Because I am all kinds of feeling like crap today, here's something fucked up and hilarious to lighten the mood.

These roosters have been specially bred to have a very long crow. They sound like Godzilla. It is fucking badass.

Warning! Sudden horrible noise! Requires sound, but don't turn it up too loud! Those with headphones, take care.



Naturally, these birds belong in entertainment:



(I KID WITH LOVE.)

I really want one of those screaming as my ringtone.

As awesome as they are, I am really glad that these things don't live near me.

Also, if I had the money, I would totally pay [livejournal.com profile] ursulav to paint me a corpse-painted, bullet-belted, nail-studded, death rooster screaming in the middle of that one forest that shows up in all the band publicity shots.

Cock jokes commence in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Tootsie Pops!)
Because I am all kinds of feeling like crap today, here's something fucked up and hilarious to lighten the mood.

These roosters have been specially bred to have a very long crow. They sound like Godzilla. It is fucking badass.

Warning! Sudden horrible noise! Requires sound, but don't turn it up too loud! Those with headphones, take care.



Naturally, these birds belong in entertainment:



(I KID WITH LOVE.)

I really want one of those screaming as my ringtone.

As awesome as they are, I am really glad that these things don't live near me.

Also, if I had the money, I would totally pay [livejournal.com profile] ursulav to paint me a corpse-painted, bullet-belted, nail-studded, death rooster screaming in the middle of that one forest that shows up in all the band publicity shots.

Cock jokes commence in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Bloodreds)

Ancient fossil find: This snake could eat a cow! - Yahoo! News


Vertebra of an adult Green Anaconda (Eunectes murinus), dwarfed by a vertebra of Titanoboa cerrejonensis.


NEW YORK – Never mind the 40-foot snake that menaced Jennifer Lopez in the 1997 movie "Anaconda." Not even Hollywood could match a new discovery from the ancient world. Fossils from northeastern Colombia reveal the biggest snake ever discovered: a behemoth that stretched 42 to 45 feet long, reaching more than 2,500 pounds.

"This thing weighs more than a bison and is longer than a city bus," enthused snake expert Jack Conrad of the American Museum of Natural History in New York, who was familiar with the find.

"It could easily eat something the size of a cow. A human would just be toast immediately."

"If it tried to enter my office to eat me, it would have a hard time squeezing through the door," reckoned paleontologist Jason Head of the University of Toronto Missisauga.

Actually, the beast probably munched on ancient relatives of crocodiles in its rainforest home some 58 million to 60 million years ago, he said.

The discoverers of the snake named it Titanoboa cerrejonensis ("ty-TAN-o-BO-ah sare-ah-HONE-en-siss"). That means "titanic boa from Cerrejon," the region where it was found.


I believe they have found [livejournal.com profile] yuki_onna's Equally Large Boa.

I love fossils.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Bloodreds)

Ancient fossil find: This snake could eat a cow! - Yahoo! News


Vertebra of an adult Green Anaconda (Eunectes murinus), dwarfed by a vertebra of Titanoboa cerrejonensis.


NEW YORK – Never mind the 40-foot snake that menaced Jennifer Lopez in the 1997 movie "Anaconda." Not even Hollywood could match a new discovery from the ancient world. Fossils from northeastern Colombia reveal the biggest snake ever discovered: a behemoth that stretched 42 to 45 feet long, reaching more than 2,500 pounds.

"This thing weighs more than a bison and is longer than a city bus," enthused snake expert Jack Conrad of the American Museum of Natural History in New York, who was familiar with the find.

"It could easily eat something the size of a cow. A human would just be toast immediately."

"If it tried to enter my office to eat me, it would have a hard time squeezing through the door," reckoned paleontologist Jason Head of the University of Toronto Missisauga.

Actually, the beast probably munched on ancient relatives of crocodiles in its rainforest home some 58 million to 60 million years ago, he said.

The discoverers of the snake named it Titanoboa cerrejonensis ("ty-TAN-o-BO-ah sare-ah-HONE-en-siss"). That means "titanic boa from Cerrejon," the region where it was found.


I believe they have found [livejournal.com profile] yuki_onna's Equally Large Boa.

I love fossils.
naamah_darling: Tribal design of a wolf's head. (Wolfie)
Holy hell! Last night it stormed. I've lived through almost thirty-one years of Oklahoma weather, which is probably the most fucked-up in the country, and I've never seen anything like that. It was nothing but lightning and thunder for hours.

At one point, lightning struck so near to the house that the thunderclap was instantaneous. It was also terrifyingly loud. We usually get one or two like that during a good storm, but in terms of being absolutely hair-whitening, this one was second only to the time we heard three booming thunderclaps in a row, like the Great Old Ones knocking for admission into this world. (As I recall, my response to that one was "Yes, Thor?")

It crashed, louder than anything, and I screamed like a vixen. Sargon says he hollered, too, but I didn't hear him. The kittens nearly exploded -- their fur was all puffed out, and in the space of one second, they had all crammed into one corner of the cage so tightly it looked like one tiny cat with six enormous eyes. Poor little darlings.

And it just went on and on! I lay in bed, trying to sleep, and through the window I could see blue-white lightning. In thirty seconds, I counted twenty-three separate flashes of lightning. That part of it went on for more than an hour. I've never seen a storm that was that alive. It actually had me spooked.

Anyway, in other news, I heard from the lady who took in Grace the three-legged pirate cat, and she's doing so well! They are spoiling her rotten. She sleeps with her new people at night, gets kitty treats every day, has two dogs to browbeat, and gets lots and lots of love and kisses. She has a very good life, and I am so glad to be able to share that happy news with you. She wouldn't have found that home -- obviously the right one -- without y'all!

Right now, I am off to get work done: finishing preliminary designs for two boxes, then emailing with business stuff and getting some loose ends tied up. And after that's done, I get to sit down and write!
naamah_darling: Tribal design of a wolf's head. (Wolfie)
Holy hell! Last night it stormed. I've lived through almost thirty-one years of Oklahoma weather, which is probably the most fucked-up in the country, and I've never seen anything like that. It was nothing but lightning and thunder for hours.

At one point, lightning struck so near to the house that the thunderclap was instantaneous. It was also terrifyingly loud. We usually get one or two like that during a good storm, but in terms of being absolutely hair-whitening, this one was second only to the time we heard three booming thunderclaps in a row, like the Great Old Ones knocking for admission into this world. (As I recall, my response to that one was "Yes, Thor?")

It crashed, louder than anything, and I screamed like a vixen. Sargon says he hollered, too, but I didn't hear him. The kittens nearly exploded -- their fur was all puffed out, and in the space of one second, they had all crammed into one corner of the cage so tightly it looked like one tiny cat with six enormous eyes. Poor little darlings.

And it just went on and on! I lay in bed, trying to sleep, and through the window I could see blue-white lightning. In thirty seconds, I counted twenty-three separate flashes of lightning. That part of it went on for more than an hour. I've never seen a storm that was that alive. It actually had me spooked.

Anyway, in other news, I heard from the lady who took in Grace the three-legged pirate cat, and she's doing so well! They are spoiling her rotten. She sleeps with her new people at night, gets kitty treats every day, has two dogs to browbeat, and gets lots and lots of love and kisses. She has a very good life, and I am so glad to be able to share that happy news with you. She wouldn't have found that home -- obviously the right one -- without y'all!

Right now, I am off to get work done: finishing preliminary designs for two boxes, then emailing with business stuff and getting some loose ends tied up. And after that's done, I get to sit down and write!
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (SAMURAI FACE!)
Oh my god. Oh, my fucking god.

Okay, so, first, there's the leak in the computer room window. I mentioned that the other day. Well, the day after that, we sprung a small leak in the bedroom window. You know, the one we had replaced not two years ago.

Also, during the big storm a few days back, Jesus H. Christ, the downstairs room once again flooded with fucking water. Apparently it is from the bay window, which we think has sprung a leak that we can't find. This is the bay window that sits directly under the torrent of water that cascades off the side of the house because the guttering is so fucking awful. So the floor of my downstairs room got so drenched that when I stepped on the low-pile carpet, visible ripples spread across the surface. And of course, now that it's drying out, it's horrible and smelly because of the mildew.

I thought that would be the worst of it, but no. I was wrong. Today Sargon goes outside to work on his sword, and comes back in with a funny look on his face. "We have a little structural problem," he says. I go outside to look and lo and behold, on the east side of the house the brickwork has fucking collapsed and fallen right off the house.

There is an enormous hole in the façade, going right down to the wood underneath. THERE IS A HOLE IN MY HOUSE. There is a hole in my house, and a ginormous pile of bricks and mortar and tar paper and other assorted shit in my fucking side yard.

Apparently, it collapsed during the storm, and we didn't notice it because a) it's a part of the house we don't go look at very often because it's on the far side of absolutely everything, and b) we weren't apparently here when it happened.

Christ. Now we have to file an insurance claim, and hopefully they'll pay for the repairs.

Jesus. You will note that this shit started happening as soon as we announced our intention of moving, and started seeing other houses. This fucking house, it knows it's a goner and it is trying to drive us crazy, or suck up so much money that we can't afford to fucking move.

The one bright spot in all of this cockshit fuckery is that we went to look at a very nice house today, and we like it well enough that we're going to look at it again tomorrow with my dad. I am guardedly optimistic.

At this point, just about anything would be a trade up. This house is literally falling down around our ears.

I've got one thing to ask of you all: throw some positive vibes out there for us so that we have the strength to get through this without me fucking killing someone.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (SAMURAI FACE!)
Oh my god. Oh, my fucking god.

Okay, so, first, there's the leak in the computer room window. I mentioned that the other day. Well, the day after that, we sprung a small leak in the bedroom window. You know, the one we had replaced not two years ago.

Also, during the big storm a few days back, Jesus H. Christ, the downstairs room once again flooded with fucking water. Apparently it is from the bay window, which we think has sprung a leak that we can't find. This is the bay window that sits directly under the torrent of water that cascades off the side of the house because the guttering is so fucking awful. So the floor of my downstairs room got so drenched that when I stepped on the low-pile carpet, visible ripples spread across the surface. And of course, now that it's drying out, it's horrible and smelly because of the mildew.

I thought that would be the worst of it, but no. I was wrong. Today Sargon goes outside to work on his sword, and comes back in with a funny look on his face. "We have a little structural problem," he says. I go outside to look and lo and behold, on the east side of the house the brickwork has fucking collapsed and fallen right off the house.

There is an enormous hole in the façade, going right down to the wood underneath. THERE IS A HOLE IN MY HOUSE. There is a hole in my house, and a ginormous pile of bricks and mortar and tar paper and other assorted shit in my fucking side yard.

Apparently, it collapsed during the storm, and we didn't notice it because a) it's a part of the house we don't go look at very often because it's on the far side of absolutely everything, and b) we weren't apparently here when it happened.

Christ. Now we have to file an insurance claim, and hopefully they'll pay for the repairs.

Jesus. You will note that this shit started happening as soon as we announced our intention of moving, and started seeing other houses. This fucking house, it knows it's a goner and it is trying to drive us crazy, or suck up so much money that we can't afford to fucking move.

The one bright spot in all of this cockshit fuckery is that we went to look at a very nice house today, and we like it well enough that we're going to look at it again tomorrow with my dad. I am guardedly optimistic.

At this point, just about anything would be a trade up. This house is literally falling down around our ears.

I've got one thing to ask of you all: throw some positive vibes out there for us so that we have the strength to get through this without me fucking killing someone.
naamah_darling: A gray cat with a white chin squinting as though she smells food. (Fish)
Last night on the way home from [livejournal.com profile] bat_cheva and [livejournal.com profile] farrandy's place, we wound up driving through a fucking hailstorm. This would have been harrowing all on its own, what with the total blackness punctuated by windshield impacts making it feel very much like a fucking meteor storm, but the highways here are exceedingly poorly-marked, our windshield wipers chose more or less that moment to start making noises like a shrieking baboon inside an iron maiden, and Oklahoma drivers are incredibly fucking stupid.

This is the middle of a hail- and rainstorm, the roads are slick, and these assholes are flying past at 70 miles an hour over elevated roads with no visible markings, no streetlights, and no shoulder. I have no idea where they had to be on a Monday night in such an all-fired hurry, but I deeply hope it led them to contract something fatal.

The storm continued until five in the morning. The tornado sirens went off twice in quick succession, sending every dog in the county into spasms, and at one point the hail was being driven so furiously against the snake room windows that I thought it had broken the window and was falling onto the floor. I tried to get to sleep, but even through earplugs it was futile.

The wind was gusting, hail was hammering, the rain sounded like someone throwing nails against the house, and the thunder and lightning were almost constant; it was a terrible din. I love storms, so I was not all that unhappy, but Fish . . . poor Fish. After a particularly enthusiastic gust of wind and hail, I heard this tiny ". . . mew?"

I looked over and cracked up. She was on the bed, hunkered down in the mussed bedclothes, with only her ears and eyes sticking up. Her eyes were the size of shooter marbles. I didn't have a camera, so I drew you a picture:

Fish in a Thunderstorm

She was afraid, as [livejournal.com profile] cissa would say, of the Cat-Eating Thunder Monsters.

Not long after this the storm worsened again, which sent her quite literally scampering downstairs to hide under the boa cage. Once the noise was over, she came out and stood in the middle of the floor, peeping at the top of her fat little lungs. I am not sure if she was loudly proclaiming her total lack of cowardice or begging for comfort.

She got scooped up and snuggled anyhow, because right at that moment I desperately needed some chunky kitty love.

Why?

The window at the head of my bed sprung a leak last night and dripped all over my CDs, several books, and a pile of magazines. I intervened before any lasting damage was done, and the leak was only a small one, but it was like the icing on the roach-filled loathing cake.

I hate this house.

The leak triggered a fit of inarticulate and despair-laced fury which kept me awake until eight a.m. I finally went to sleep after emo-dumping on Sargon, only to wake up in the middle of the . . . err . . . morning . . . to discover that I had sprung a leak. Thank you, uterus, for the lively punctruation.* Thank you so fucking much.

So now I'm in pain and bleeding and pissed off at my body, in addition to being pissed off at my house.

I do, however, have a heating pad, which means I have a cat in my lap, which means I am being purred on and stared at worshipfully by something small and hairy and stinky, so life isn't all bad.

* That was a typo, but I nominate it as a real word, meaning any period that occurs at a dramatically inconvenient, inappropriate, or unexpected moment.
naamah_darling: A gray cat with a white chin squinting as though she smells food. (Fish)
Last night on the way home from [livejournal.com profile] bat_cheva and [livejournal.com profile] farrandy's place, we wound up driving through a fucking hailstorm. This would have been harrowing all on its own, what with the total blackness punctuated by windshield impacts making it feel very much like a fucking meteor storm, but the highways here are exceedingly poorly-marked, our windshield wipers chose more or less that moment to start making noises like a shrieking baboon inside an iron maiden, and Oklahoma drivers are incredibly fucking stupid.

This is the middle of a hail- and rainstorm, the roads are slick, and these assholes are flying past at 70 miles an hour over elevated roads with no visible markings, no streetlights, and no shoulder. I have no idea where they had to be on a Monday night in such an all-fired hurry, but I deeply hope it led them to contract something fatal.

The storm continued until five in the morning. The tornado sirens went off twice in quick succession, sending every dog in the county into spasms, and at one point the hail was being driven so furiously against the snake room windows that I thought it had broken the window and was falling onto the floor. I tried to get to sleep, but even through earplugs it was futile.

The wind was gusting, hail was hammering, the rain sounded like someone throwing nails against the house, and the thunder and lightning were almost constant; it was a terrible din. I love storms, so I was not all that unhappy, but Fish . . . poor Fish. After a particularly enthusiastic gust of wind and hail, I heard this tiny ". . . mew?"

I looked over and cracked up. She was on the bed, hunkered down in the mussed bedclothes, with only her ears and eyes sticking up. Her eyes were the size of shooter marbles. I didn't have a camera, so I drew you a picture:

Fish in a Thunderstorm

She was afraid, as [livejournal.com profile] cissa would say, of the Cat-Eating Thunder Monsters.

Not long after this the storm worsened again, which sent her quite literally scampering downstairs to hide under the boa cage. Once the noise was over, she came out and stood in the middle of the floor, peeping at the top of her fat little lungs. I am not sure if she was loudly proclaiming her total lack of cowardice or begging for comfort.

She got scooped up and snuggled anyhow, because right at that moment I desperately needed some chunky kitty love.

Why?

The window at the head of my bed sprung a leak last night and dripped all over my CDs, several books, and a pile of magazines. I intervened before any lasting damage was done, and the leak was only a small one, but it was like the icing on the roach-filled loathing cake.

I hate this house.

The leak triggered a fit of inarticulate and despair-laced fury which kept me awake until eight a.m. I finally went to sleep after emo-dumping on Sargon, only to wake up in the middle of the . . . err . . . morning . . . to discover that I had sprung a leak. Thank you, uterus, for the lively punctruation.* Thank you so fucking much.

So now I'm in pain and bleeding and pissed off at my body, in addition to being pissed off at my house.

I do, however, have a heating pad, which means I have a cat in my lap, which means I am being purred on and stared at worshipfully by something small and hairy and stinky, so life isn't all bad.

* That was a typo, but I nominate it as a real word, meaning any period that occurs at a dramatically inconvenient, inappropriate, or unexpected moment.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (SAMURAI FACE!)
That's it. I have had enough. Can't take it anymore.

Earlier today, I took my pants off the hanger, only to have a live roach fall out of one leg. I, of course, recoiled, then took my pants out and beat them with a two-by-four. The roach escaped.

Later, in the bathroom, I saw another one, which I promptly crushed with an exclamation of dismay.

Just now I was trying to get into the pantry to get to the bread, and brushed aside the jeans hanging from the pantry knob to dry, and a giant fucking roach skittered down one leg. Furious, I grabbed the leg and jerked, trying to make the roach fall to the floor so I could kill it, which it did, but in the process I dislodged another and it flipped right at my face. Which is why I fucking screamed.

I killed that one. The other escaped. A final roach still clung to my jeans, cocking its head and looking at me, but at that point I had reached my threshold and had to retreat, and I made Sargon go kill it with fire.

FIVE TODAY.

I'm doing the borax thing. That's great. It's borax. It's harmless. Diatomaceous earth. Swell. I can do that, too. I can't use sprays or call an exterminator, though, because of our animals, especially the snakes.

Something I forgot to mention in my last horrified roach post, though. The bathroom formula Comet spray, made with lots of citric acid? It kills those disgusting little fuckers dead. They lose all motor control almost immediately and die in less than ten seconds. And the Comet is harmless. Alas, it only works on the roaches I can see.

The real fix? I picked up a fucking realtor's guide and have started circling houses.

I am so out of here. Oh my god, I am so out of here.

ETA: Make that SIX. Another one in the kitchen that got away. AAAAAAAAAUGH!!!
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (SAMURAI FACE!)
That's it. I have had enough. Can't take it anymore.

Earlier today, I took my pants off the hanger, only to have a live roach fall out of one leg. I, of course, recoiled, then took my pants out and beat them with a two-by-four. The roach escaped.

Later, in the bathroom, I saw another one, which I promptly crushed with an exclamation of dismay.

Just now I was trying to get into the pantry to get to the bread, and brushed aside the jeans hanging from the pantry knob to dry, and a giant fucking roach skittered down one leg. Furious, I grabbed the leg and jerked, trying to make the roach fall to the floor so I could kill it, which it did, but in the process I dislodged another and it flipped right at my face. Which is why I fucking screamed.

I killed that one. The other escaped. A final roach still clung to my jeans, cocking its head and looking at me, but at that point I had reached my threshold and had to retreat, and I made Sargon go kill it with fire.

FIVE TODAY.

I'm doing the borax thing. That's great. It's borax. It's harmless. Diatomaceous earth. Swell. I can do that, too. I can't use sprays or call an exterminator, though, because of our animals, especially the snakes.

Something I forgot to mention in my last horrified roach post, though. The bathroom formula Comet spray, made with lots of citric acid? It kills those disgusting little fuckers dead. They lose all motor control almost immediately and die in less than ten seconds. And the Comet is harmless. Alas, it only works on the roaches I can see.

The real fix? I picked up a fucking realtor's guide and have started circling houses.

I am so out of here. Oh my god, I am so out of here.

ETA: Make that SIX. Another one in the kitchen that got away. AAAAAAAAAUGH!!!
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (WTF)
Sargon and I were sitting peacefully downstairs, gaming, and suddenly, something the size of a mouse skitters across his keyboard. It was a giant fucking cockroach. This is Oklahoma, we have a house with a basement and crawlspace, we do get "palmetto bugs." They are not palmetto bugs, really. They're just a particularly enormous breed of American cockroach. Whatever. They are still unnatural horrors to me. Wikipedia says that the American cockroach gets to be about an inch and a half long, but this is a lie. These bastards are as long as my thumb. And they can fucking fly.

Sargon, who has watched Mimic one too many times, refers to them as the Judas Breed, and he's not far off. The things have practically developed language.

Anyway, Sargon dispatched it and we settled in again, only to be interrupted by another one crawling across the table. Again, he killed it.

A third shortly appeared under the table near the wall.

A fourth, behind some books.

A fifth on the side of the boa cage.

A sixth on the wall near the door. This one was so big that we could actually see it cock its head up as Sargon approached. It sat and looked at him, and like the big velociraptor in Jurassic Park, we could see it working things out. It waved its feelers in bug semaphore for "You are absolutely ravishing, and I can't wait to deposit my eggs in your mouth while you sleep."

Sargon valiantly killed them all. Unnerved, I eventually went upstairs, only to hear a furtive skittering from behind me. I turned to look, and there was another one crawling across the tissue-paper walls of my light box, which amplified every tiny noise until it sounded like a rat-sized bug.

Seven. Seven giant cockroaches.

I have not seen any since, and hadn't seen any for a very long time before, so I can only wonder -- with the kind of curiosity that doesn't really wish to be satisfied -- what drove them all out of hiding at once. Is there suddenly the insectile equivalent of a balrog in my basement?

I want out of this house so incredibly badly. I have had steel skewers shoved through my unmentionables and I have kissed cobras, but I swear to you now on the souls of my departed kin, cockroaches unhinge me. They are on the very short list of life forms for which I can see absolutely no justification whatsoever. I mean, worms and maggots and leeches revolt me as well, but they at least have good points.

Cockroaches, on the other hand, are nothing but hideous pests of unnatural hardiness. Again, according to Wikipedia, "Cockroaches can survive sterile surgical decapitation for a very long period, especially if recently fed, but of course become unable to feed and die within a few weeks."

A.

Few.

WEEKS.

Yes, I realize there are folks who live in far more roach-infested parts of the country, and that I am privileged to live in a relatively vermin-free home, but that was still too fucking much for me.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (WTF)
Sargon and I were sitting peacefully downstairs, gaming, and suddenly, something the size of a mouse skitters across his keyboard. It was a giant fucking cockroach. This is Oklahoma, we have a house with a basement and crawlspace, we do get "palmetto bugs." They are not palmetto bugs, really. They're just a particularly enormous breed of American cockroach. Whatever. They are still unnatural horrors to me. Wikipedia says that the American cockroach gets to be about an inch and a half long, but this is a lie. These bastards are as long as my thumb. And they can fucking fly.

Sargon, who has watched Mimic one too many times, refers to them as the Judas Breed, and he's not far off. The things have practically developed language.

Anyway, Sargon dispatched it and we settled in again, only to be interrupted by another one crawling across the table. Again, he killed it.

A third shortly appeared under the table near the wall.

A fourth, behind some books.

A fifth on the side of the boa cage.

A sixth on the wall near the door. This one was so big that we could actually see it cock its head up as Sargon approached. It sat and looked at him, and like the big velociraptor in Jurassic Park, we could see it working things out. It waved its feelers in bug semaphore for "You are absolutely ravishing, and I can't wait to deposit my eggs in your mouth while you sleep."

Sargon valiantly killed them all. Unnerved, I eventually went upstairs, only to hear a furtive skittering from behind me. I turned to look, and there was another one crawling across the tissue-paper walls of my light box, which amplified every tiny noise until it sounded like a rat-sized bug.

Seven. Seven giant cockroaches.

I have not seen any since, and hadn't seen any for a very long time before, so I can only wonder -- with the kind of curiosity that doesn't really wish to be satisfied -- what drove them all out of hiding at once. Is there suddenly the insectile equivalent of a balrog in my basement?

I want out of this house so incredibly badly. I have had steel skewers shoved through my unmentionables and I have kissed cobras, but I swear to you now on the souls of my departed kin, cockroaches unhinge me. They are on the very short list of life forms for which I can see absolutely no justification whatsoever. I mean, worms and maggots and leeches revolt me as well, but they at least have good points.

Cockroaches, on the other hand, are nothing but hideous pests of unnatural hardiness. Again, according to Wikipedia, "Cockroaches can survive sterile surgical decapitation for a very long period, especially if recently fed, but of course become unable to feed and die within a few weeks."

A.

Few.

WEEKS.

Yes, I realize there are folks who live in far more roach-infested parts of the country, and that I am privileged to live in a relatively vermin-free home, but that was still too fucking much for me.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (WTF)
Well, here it is. The tour of the neighborhood showing the destruction from the December ice storm.

These were taken about ten days after the storm, all within a quarter-mile square area. Our neighborhood was among the worst hit in the city, apparently. These pictures will bear out this assertion.

There are a ton of pictures under the cut, so dial-uppers beware, but I didn't feel like separating this into three freaking posts and clogging everyone's f-lists.

Cut for major damage. )

Aftermath 67

This, by the way, is the branch I actually saw fall from my kitchen window. Ice positively exploded from it. It was very cool.

Anyway, that's what things looked like around here, and still look like in most parts of the city, which haven't been cleaned up. Not a pretty sight.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (WTF)
Well, here it is. The tour of the neighborhood showing the destruction from the December ice storm.

These were taken about ten days after the storm, all within a quarter-mile square area. Our neighborhood was among the worst hit in the city, apparently. These pictures will bear out this assertion.

There are a ton of pictures under the cut, so dial-uppers beware, but I didn't feel like separating this into three freaking posts and clogging everyone's f-lists.

Cut for major damage. )

Aftermath 67

This, by the way, is the branch I actually saw fall from my kitchen window. Ice positively exploded from it. It was very cool.

Anyway, that's what things looked like around here, and still look like in most parts of the city, which haven't been cleaned up. Not a pretty sight.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (SAMURAI FACE!)
I've got tons of picture posts to make, so I might as well get started.

This is the first of several posts showing the aftermath of the ice storm. This one is just what happened to our property.

I'm going to show you seven pictures, and all of them are of wood that came out of our yard. Just keep that in mind. One yard's worth.

There are three piles of shit.

This is pile of shit #1, composed of the remains of two small trees and half a large tree. It's right in the front yard, on the sidewalk.

View from the house:
Aftermath 01

Cut to save your scrolling finger. )

All of that, all of it, came from our yard. Thankfully, it was hauled away this weekend by a nice crew of hardworking dudes from Tennessee. I could've kissed them. I was expecting it to be March before they got to us. Nice to know I won't be trying to sell this house later this year, with huge piles of shit still sitting in front of it.

These guys were a traveling crew who have worked a lot of cleanup sites, and said that the damage around here matched what they have seen from category 3 and possibly category 4 winds. Obviously, structures and the like didn't suffer to the degree that they do with actual wind damage, but our trees are screwed.

I didn't get pictures of what happened to the enormous maple tree in back because we literally could not get back there to photograph it. The way was completely blocked by fallen limbs. Let it suffice to say, the tree, which was really three trees joined low to the ground, split, and one third of it landed pretty much right on the roof of the back deck.

I have to give major thanks to my brother-in-law, whose rock-solid construction allowed the deck to withstand a direct blow from a thigh-thick tree limb completely unscathed. Had it not been for the sturdiness of the deck roofing, the branch would have fallen into the house. Right about where I'm sitting now, actually.

Miraculously, the house sustained nothing more than cosmetic damage; the falling branches knocked a few bricks off the ornamental façade running around the roof, and that's all.

Believe me, I am so, so grateful for that. And in the next installment, you will see why, when I start showing you how badly chewed the neighborhood was.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (SAMURAI FACE!)
I've got tons of picture posts to make, so I might as well get started.

This is the first of several posts showing the aftermath of the ice storm. This one is just what happened to our property.

I'm going to show you seven pictures, and all of them are of wood that came out of our yard. Just keep that in mind. One yard's worth.

There are three piles of shit.

This is pile of shit #1, composed of the remains of two small trees and half a large tree. It's right in the front yard, on the sidewalk.

View from the house:
Aftermath 01

Cut to save your scrolling finger. )

All of that, all of it, came from our yard. Thankfully, it was hauled away this weekend by a nice crew of hardworking dudes from Tennessee. I could've kissed them. I was expecting it to be March before they got to us. Nice to know I won't be trying to sell this house later this year, with huge piles of shit still sitting in front of it.

These guys were a traveling crew who have worked a lot of cleanup sites, and said that the damage around here matched what they have seen from category 3 and possibly category 4 winds. Obviously, structures and the like didn't suffer to the degree that they do with actual wind damage, but our trees are screwed.

I didn't get pictures of what happened to the enormous maple tree in back because we literally could not get back there to photograph it. The way was completely blocked by fallen limbs. Let it suffice to say, the tree, which was really three trees joined low to the ground, split, and one third of it landed pretty much right on the roof of the back deck.

I have to give major thanks to my brother-in-law, whose rock-solid construction allowed the deck to withstand a direct blow from a thigh-thick tree limb completely unscathed. Had it not been for the sturdiness of the deck roofing, the branch would have fallen into the house. Right about where I'm sitting now, actually.

Miraculously, the house sustained nothing more than cosmetic damage; the falling branches knocked a few bricks off the ornamental façade running around the roof, and that's all.

Believe me, I am so, so grateful for that. And in the next installment, you will see why, when I start showing you how badly chewed the neighborhood was.

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