I'm sitting on the toilet last night, pinching a loaf before bed. Out of the corner crawls the biggest fucking cockroach I've ever seen. I swear to God I thought he had come to eat me.

He stopped in the middle of the floor, pulled the unfiltered Lucky out of his mouth, and asked if I was done with that issue of Architectural Digest.

I said yes, and handed it to him.

He sat there for a moment reading, and mentioned something about how nice Rob Lowe's couch is. I was a little too horrified to pay attention.

Then he rolled the magazine up, tucked it under his arm, and crawled away.