May 15, 2008
bug
verb: to bother, annoy, pester
Okay, so the Claritin poster wasn’t a primo example of Philadelphia quirkiness, it was actually a sneaky ad from Zyrtec. Very clever indeed. Were I affected by pollen, ragweed, etc, that ad alone would sway me into trying Zyrtec over any other over-the-counter anti-histimine (that’s why I’m an excellent consumer) but since I’m apparently immune to such things, I’ll just go on thinking that it was a swell marketing campaign.
Though normal allergens don’t bother me, something I dread as the temperatures begin to climb are other airborne irritants, specifically those of the insect variety. I’m horribly allergic to mosquito bites, which is truly unfortunate since mosquitos and all other nibbling, blood-sucking insects seem to just LOVE me. I know I tend to speak in hyperbolic terms sometimes, but my reaction to insects is literally the worst case that most doctors have ever seen. Two years ago I went on a long weekend camping trip and got so chewed up that I made an appointment with a dermatologist, hoping to be given some kind of medication that would either a) make the itching stop, or b) make me invisible (or unappetizing) to bugs. The conversation went something like this:
Respectable Dermatologist: (alarmed) Those… aren’t bug bites.
Me: Oh, I know, it’s pretty awful.
RD: (still alarmed) You must have some kind of condition.
Me: …no, they’re bug bites. Can you give me anything for them?
RD: They can’t be. There’s too many.
Me: I know, I tried counting them but lost track when I got past 50. Maybe you could give me an ointment, or a pill, or something?
RD: That’s impossible. They can’t ALL be bug bites.
Me: Except that they are…
RD: No. They’re not.
Me: Hm. Okay, I went camping in the Pine Barrens and actually SAW the bugs biting me.
RD: No. Uh-uh. There’s no way.
Me: Um… Yes. Really.
RD: There aren’t that many mosquitos in New Jersey.
Me: …You’re not going to help me, are you?
Since this has been a problem that’s plagued me (and has only gotten increasingly worse) since childhood, I tend to dislike most insects, even the ones that don’t bite. To avoid a mess in my apartment I’ll try to catch some (moths, for example) and free them outside instead of squashing them. But if there’s a chance I’m going to end up being bitten, or if it’s a *cockroach* that I have to deal with, I’ll kill anything dead without a second thought. It’s not a girl thing, or an “eww, a bug!” thing, it’s a matter of my happiness, comfort, and, to an extreme degree, survival.
All that being said, there is also a type of insect that I’ve recently encountered that I simply don’t know what to do with. Too fast to spray with kitchen cleaner (which, I’ve learned, kills everything) too big to squash without making a mess, and far too heebie-jeebie to capture and set free on the fire escape… folks, I give you the Philadelphia Millipede:

Now, what on EARTH am I to do with that? I suppose could keep her as a pet and name her Phillie Millie. If that’s not a close enough shot for you, here’s the one I’m submitting to cuteoverload.com:

This is what I had to deal with upon arriving home this evening, after teetering home in three inch heels, after multiple glasses of wine, after schmoozing at a work dinner with some terribly impressive and influential people. So what did I do? I took the bug’s picture on my cell phone and half-heartedly aimed a spray bottle of kitchen cleaner at it while it scampered underneath the radiator. Very much alive.
I’ll be living in this apartment for exactly 16 more days. Any suggestions on what to do with my multi-legged roommate if we encounter each other again?

