Okay, Mr. Cockroach. I understand that your species is one of the most tenacious and well-adapted life forms on this planet. Long after all the upright-walking apes have annihilated each other by war or by having sex all day and forgetting to eat, you will still be happily reproducing _and_ eating. You're clever that way. But, Ned - may I call you Ned? - Ned, I have to respectfully ask you to stay the fuck away from my desk, my precious computer, and well, frankly, the entirety of my living space.

Like my ex-boyfriends, the sight of your furtive, scuttling form fills me with disgust and loathing. Unlike most of my ex-boyfriends, you also leave droppings everywhere and carry disease. Ned, it's not cool for you to mess up my place like that. Maybe if you were a messy roommate, I could forgive you because you'd introduce me to your single guy friends. But Ned, you do not introduce me to your friends. They just show up unannounced whenever they feel like it. You seem content to eat my food (those expensive chocolates were mine, you bastard) and to skip out on your part of the electric bill. You heard me - Ned, if you are going to insist on parading around on my desk in broad daylight, or broad IKEA lamplight, then you can damn well pay your part of the electric bill.

Oh, and Ned? Could you stop being such a man-slut? Impregnating every fertile female roach you come across is such juvenile behavior. Didn't your mother raise you to - what? She didn't raise you? That explains a lot. But seriously, Ned - if you don't stop whoring around and making all those offspring, your Moto is going to be ringing off the hook with babymamma drama. What? No, you can't. I keep my vodka in sealed glass bottles, and you can't get into those. Yet.

In conclusion, Ned, could you stay the fuck away from me? You give me the heebiejeebies and make me feel itchy all over when I see you. I keep my apartment clean, but you show up every spring. Why don't you go hang out in Central Park with the screeching, copulating squirrels? They're more your style.

Love, K.