I just murdered the biggest fucking cockroach I have ever seen. If you hear that I have been beaten to a bloody pulp and killed by a giant sneaker you know why. Where the hell did that come from?! Wings...fangs..the works. I need to get my blood pressure and heart rate down from jumping around spraying the thing with insecticide and then running into my room (after which it followed). Phew.

Grr. Etc. Need company (or something of the sort tomorrow night and no one's around) This is not cool. En absoluto.