smibbo | is it because I am evil?

The question above, interestingly enough, adheres to both subjects at hand. To whit:

exhibit number one: I sit down at my 'pute to begin my morning routine. My foot brushes against the drawer of my desk and it penetrates my brain that the drawer is more ajar than usual. I look down, notice that the drawer has been barred from closing by one of my shoes (not on my feet at the moment) and thus I attempt to move said shoe out of the way of the drawer, that I might close it properly. This proves to be a bit difficult with only my foot and I bend down to make a better attempt. In doing so, I see a LARGE cockroach lying a few inches away from my shoes - on its back, waving its disgusting hairy legs in a sad attempt to turn over or whatever.
Now, at first, I am inclined to ignore this monstrousity. After all, it is clearly in it's last moments of "life" and not close enough for me to worry about. Of course, with my phobia, ignorance is just not possible. My eyes continue to slide their way towards the fearsome thing and check it's progress towards the great garbage heap in the sky. At one point, I realize it has actually moved in position. This is not, of course, acceptable in any way and my beginning-to-fray nerves are screaming at me to DO SOMETHING. So I do what is quite natural: I go looking for someone else to deal with it. To my dismay, I find out that my roommates are all asleep. That's a no-go. As phobic as I am, I refuse to wake anyone up over anything less than an emergency or a particularly insistant phone-call.
I run to the kitchen and grab the Raid. This I deploy copiously in the general direction of the aformentioned nightmare beast. It seems to upset the thing. All well and good. In a burst of bravery, I use my shoe (most likely coated in anti-vermin spray by now) to whisk the apparition from my sight. "go, foul creature!" I think, "die in the freakin corner so I can quit thinking about you!"

The deed is done. Naturally however, I am beset by that particular mix anxiety and paranoia known as the "willies" or "heebee jeebees"; everything makes me jump. I'm only glad I am wearing a full-sleeve sweater so that my own hair does not put me in the nuthouse by constantly falling on me at random moments.
So, are these hideous creatures coming after me?

and is it because I am evil?

If that doesn't make you think I am evil (which by human standards, it probably doesn't but look at it from the POV of a roach *shudder* if you dare) then consider the following:

exhibit number twoI have seen my next purchase, and it is good.
Those of you who have intimate knowledge of the nightmare that was those people will instantly understand why purchasing These shirts for all three of my kids for their next trip to see those people definitely makes me evil. For those of you not in-the-know I will elucidate.
When those people decided to try to ~~steal my kids~~ sue me for custody, one of the charges against me was that I let my youngest son play GTA: Vice City. It went into some detail in fact. Part of why that charge was particularly ridiculous was that those people had taken my kids to see the Hulk movie - which I had expressly forbid. As a consequence I had to endure the pouty bafflement of my two younger boys who couldn't understand why I refused to buy them Hulk-related toys and games. Yet I let them play GTA?

No brainer, people... GTA is rendered in clear cartoon style and actually gives punishment for extraneous violence as well as reprisals for killing law enforcement or innocent bystanders. Yes, you can kill "the good guys" in GTA but you have to suffer the consequences. Moreover GTA is mostly a fantasy driving game. Killing people isn't really the main focus of the game and it is so obviously NOT REAL. I played a bit myself and let me tell you if you based your opinion of someone's skills from watching them play a video game you'd beleive I must be the worst, most sadistic driver in the world. I couldn't navigate the vehicles in GTA to save my life - we all found it hilarious to watch me try. You'd never know I have never had a wreck of ANY kind in all my 20+ years of driving.
The Hulk, as rendered on todays silver screen puts forth the story of a reluctant vigilante whose sole "power" is vengeance borne of anger. This is not the message I want my boys to swallow. The movie was done in live-action with the selling point of "he's just a good guy who gets angry" the deeper notion that getting the job done (ie giving the bad guys a sound thrashing) is best done while in a rage and by smashing every damn thing in sight. This is just NOT what I'm trying to impart to my children. Hence, Hulk is banned but GTA is okay.

Much was insinuated by those people's torn anus of a legal-vulture about my allowing the boys to indulge in violent video games. Mostly because at the time I was sued, GTA was in the news as a possible defendant in the case of some wingnut kids who went on some killing rampage. I think they should have looked into whether the crackpots had any contact with the Hulk, myself.

So I must buy these shirts for my boys. Their next visit (they're going today) will be Nov something or other and I only hope I can afford the shirt in the next couple of weeks.... not sure and I almost feel guilty about spending the money on something so petty but I'm going to do it even if it means I don't buy anything directly for myself or Baph this coming month. I'm buying those shirts and sending the kids to their monthly visit in them. I will laugh maniacally... hell I might even venture outside to see their expressions when they come to pick up the boys. It could be a real hoot. I would like to think I am dispensing poetic justice.

but is it because I am evil?