Welp. There goes sleeping tonight.

SO JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. 

I was in my kitchen, just trying to get a bowl of cereal

WHEN A MOTHERFUCKING COCKROACH THE SIZE OF UGANDA FUCKING STROLLS OUT ONTO MY KITCHEN COUNTER TOP LIKE HE'S GOT NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN RUIN MY LIFE. 

And so naturally I run SCREAMING from the kitchen and try to get my mom to go kill it

to which she replies

Mom: I am doing something right now, you kill it.

Me: I CAN'T I CAAAAAN'T. And what are you doing?!? You're not doing anything! Kill it!

Mom: I am doing something important! I'm not going to kill it!

Me: IT DOESN'T SOUND IMPORTANT YOU'RE JUST PLAYING MUSIC OFF YOUR LAPTOP!

Mom: I'M THINKING ABOUT JOINING AN A CAPELLA GROUP OKAY? I AM NOT GOING TO GET UP AND KILL THAT BUG. GET YOUR CAT TO DO IT!

So I lift Ella up and tote my rotund furball of a cat into the kitchen thinking she's gonna bat that cockroach to hell and back again and then hopefully eat it.

I set her on the counter. She sniffs the cockroach a little. The cockroach starts to scurry and what does my cat do??? What does my obese medicine ball of a cat do????

SHE WALKS AWAY FROM THE COCKROACH, SITS ON THE EDGE OF THE COUNTER TOP AND LOOKS AT ME LIKE "OH WAS THERE SOMETHING YOU WANTED ME TO DO UP HERE?"

And then she runs off and I keep dragging her back into the kitchen and listening to her mewl as I hold her up to the cockroach and implore her to eat it. 

She does not. 

Instead the cockroach crawls into our lazy susan. I use a broom handle to rotate the susan open but by the time I do so the cockroach is gone. 

And now there's a fucking monster cockroach in my goddamn kitchen and I don't know where it is. 

That little fucker has the element of surprise and what do I have?

I have a broom.

A lazy and wholly defective feline.

and

A mother who's pressing concern in life is, not the horrifying creature currently psychologically tormenting her daughter, but rather the pros and cons of joining a glee club. 

I AM NOT AMUSED. 

NOT. 

AT. 

ALL.