Some people leave footprints on our heart. Cats leave fur on our sweaters. Dogs leave drool on our shoes. Families will crap on our doorstep. So when life gives you crap, garden it and make roses.
Friday, September 25, 2009
THEIR SECRET IS OUT OF THE CLOSET
Damn cockroaches, I always knew they had an ace up their feelers.
The little swines can hold their breath for up to 7 minutes.
They use air filled tubes called trachea to deliver oxygen directly to cells.
The trachea while delivering oxygen also carries water vapour out of the cells so they stop breathing to conserve water.
Investigating this meant examining cockroach breathing (I would so want a lot of loot to do that) under different conditions of oxygen, carbon dioxide and humidity. In dry air they opened their spiracles (air valves) for less time so they didn't lose as much water.
This proves that cockroaches resistant to pesticides could simply be holding their breath.
I knew it!
The only way to kill the little rotters is to bash them with the can of roach spray and finish them off with an iron bar.
Never mind a nuclear blast, it looks like they'll love climate change.
The one on the right is called Robert and the one on the left is called Robbert.
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I like bashing the bejebus out of them with a rolled up Green Guide. Very satisfying.
I follow them round with a can of fly spray until I see they've stopped kicking. I know, it's cruel and very un-green but I just can't help myself.
oh I'm laughing
Frank, I'm assuming you have the iron bar wrapped inside the Green Guide? I don't know where it is on the blog but I did sit down in a cafe on my way to mother and had one crawl out of my bra. World champion cockroach throw that was.
Cat, you have to bring out the big guns, surface spray and coat them with it. The brown ones are Australian and the black ones are imported American but it's okay to whack 'em both.
Thank you Miss O'Dyne, considering how much you and Lord Sedgwick laughed at the one down my bra.
One of my fave things about the Bourne is that it's pretty darn cockroach free, according to my experiences. We had a horror summer in Sydney one year, when we took my housemate's (Holocaust-surviving, Alzheimers-riddled) grandmother's painting off the wall, and THIRTEEN Sydney-sized cockroaches skittered off in all directions. There were more nesting INSIDE the frame, and a good thick layer of cockroach poo coated its innards.
Geelong. Oh my goodness.
I thought I'd have to pawn the silverware.
ha ha ha!
(The Laughing Cockroach)
Baron, I've seen one of those reality make-over shows set in Sydney and when they took the wall down, it was cockroach central. There were more of them last year but this year has been cocky free so far.
Robbert, it was so close. That blonde Riewoldt dropped the ball in front of goal and that was it.
You can always count on blondes to fumble. I wish it had been a draw, that would have been terrific.
I wouldn't want a draw, Richmond drew with Carlton in '72 and in the rematch booted 22 goals and lost by 5. They were premiers the following two years.
But yes, it was a close finish alright, I heard a woman on talkback radio saying her husband fainted on the couch.
I've only ever seen one cockroach in my place and I've been here six and a half years now. Either they don't live here and the one I saw was lost on his way home, or they're excellent at hiding. I prefer to think they don't live here. My daughter T used several of those "cockroach bombs" in her new home before they moved in. She set them off, sealed the house and we went out for lunch. Went back later in the afternoon and swept out probably a quarter bucketful of dead cockies.
My chookies eat my cockies.
Why does that sentence sound so wrong?
It only sounds wrong to someone with a filthy mind, excuse me, hahahahahahaha, that's better.
River, I don't mind what I don't see and I know this house is crawling with silverfish.
Rh, a friend saw Reiwoldt on Sunday and he couldn't walk for the pain in both knees and a lot of the players were the same.
Harry Taylor beat him, kept him to one goal. In some games that's all you need to do: win in a crucial position.
For the first time for ages I have had no cockies - they must have all moved to your place
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