There's a fly in my soup

I took the family out for dinner the other night and we had a little visitor come by to peek at what we were eating. The girls screamed, "Cockroach!"

I stood up, grabbed a napkin, and squashed the little fucker.

I don't really care about it. I mean, it's not a bad restaurant. I understand that it's going to happen every once in a blue moon. Hell, I've seen critters at some of the nicest, most expensive restaurants. It's just a fact that you have to get used to when you live in a warmer climate.

I used to be a little squeamish about things like that when I was a kid. All that changed when I went back to Vietnam. Having been in a third world country, you get used to sites like that.

I started off with thinking things like, "I can't eat that, there's something with six legs in there." By the time I left, it was more like: slurp, chew, swallow, scoop out the bug, and slurp again.

What? They add flavor.