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Roommate From Hell

August 22, 2017

Hi my name is Macee Binns, and I am now homeless because I bought a stripper pole from China.  Let me explain...

 

First of all, it should be known that I LOVE my apartment. After I received a notice last September that they were raising my rent at my old place in Hollywood yet AGAIN, I decided that I had no choice but to move. One very important thing that you should know about me is that I absolutely despise moving, and feel as though everyone should kiss my ass and shower me with pity for being faced with the horrific task of taking my shit from it’s current location and placing it in a new one. Many of my relationships have been irreplaceably damaged due to people's inability to grasp my complete out of control craziness during moving time. Which is why my love for my current apartment is so deep and so real. 

So after weeks of searching for a new place in complete despair and crying more tears than your average person usually does at a funeral, the heavens finally shown down upon me, when I eventually found my new apartment. Once I survived the hell that was getting all my shit into my new home, I fell in love with my apartment and it became my own little Hollywood haven…if you will. Sure, this haven comes with my crazy land lord, Allen, who lives below me and inserts himself into my life on a regular basis while spending the majority of his days tanning on our lawn in his Speedo and Yamaka.  Meet Allen....and his Speedo...

 

But despite Allen's love for tanning in barely there underwear, and the fact that my days are spent dodging the strange conversations that his crazy ass forces me into every time I see him, I love my new place and feel like I won the lottery when I moved into this spacious one bedroom with a backyard for my dog, Nelson. (Which is unheard of in Los Angeles.) So life is good ol' Macee Binns, crazy Allen and all! Or at least it was until Friday night when I went and fucked it all up by ordering a stripper pole.

 

You see, my contract at my pole dancing studio, which I mentioned in the previous Big Girls Don't Cry blog post, finally expired. And I stupidly thought to myself, "I’ve been doing this for two years now. I don't need to pay for pole classes anymore. I'll just buy my own pole and dance in the comfort of my own home." So I patted myself on the back for lowering my monthly expenses, and turned to Google for help with the purchase. Turns out that poles are pretty expensive, so when I found this pole for $42.99 on a slightly ghetto website that ships from China I thought "what a deal," and placed my order with a smile on my face. Major Mistake #1! - Ordering A Foreign Pole.

On Friday, as I was leaving for work, I saw the FedEx guy walking up my driveway with a package and for a brief moment I thought, "I bet that's my pole! I should probably take it inside." But then I stupidly went, "Nah.... it will still be there when I get home from work." Just another plus to living in my new place...no more worrying about packages getting stolen.  Major Mistake #2 - Leaving The Pole Outdoors.

When I returned home from work at 11:30 that night, I see that my pole is still waiting for me outside, so I take the package in and lean it against the wall, while I go back out to walk my dog. When Nelson and I return from our walk, I quickly strip down to my underwear and am about to put on my sweat pants (cause lets face it we're all just waiting for that moment at the end of the day when we can walk around in the comfort of our non-confining stretchy pants) when I turn around, still in my underwear, and see THIS monstrosity crawling up from where the pole was resting on the wall!! AND SCREAM BLOODY MURDER!!!

I stood there completely frozen with fear, not knowing what to do next, too terrified to move.  My first rational thought was that I need a man to come take control of this situation, but then I realized that I don't have one single guy in my phone that would come over in the middle of the night to kill a bug and not think it's a booty call. I've never felt so single and alone in my whole entire life. I mean, fuck, where the hell is Allen when you need him? If I bring a guy over to my place, he will with out fail catch us in the yard and creep us both out with his weird chit-chat, but when I'm upstairs screaming as though I'm being murdered, there is zero Allen to be found.  

My first instinct was to run out the door and pretend like none of this was really happening, but I knew deep down that if I didn't face my fears and deal with this giant mutant bug head on then I would end up with a roach infested apartment in the weeks to come. So I called my friend Ale, who lives right down the street for support, but my fears were only heighten when Ale said, “I’m sure the roach isn’t THAT big.” So I sent her a picture showing the size of this monstrosity, and she responded by saying, "Nope. I was wrong. That thing is fucking huge. It’s so big it even has a shadow!" 

After several minutes of begging Ale to get out of bed and come kill it for me, she finally convinced me to grow a pair and just do the damn thing. So I put her on speakerphone while I hunted for a shoe that I wouldn't mind throwing away after I hit this monster with it, and I crawled on top of my couch, standing there with my flip flop in hand, as Ale explained that have to hit AND PRESS the shit out of this bug. Emphasizing many times the importance of the PRESS part in this scenario.  Ale counted to 3 for me about 4 times, but I just stood there frozen and screaming, "I can't Ale! I can't! I'm too scared!” I mean, that bug was so big that the antennas on it's face were longer then my hand. After about ten minutes of me freaking out and chanting, "I can do this! I'm a bad ass bitch!" I finally got the nerve to HIT it but I completely forgot to PRESS, and I have never been so disappointed in myself in my whole entire life.  Resorting in Major Mistake #3 - FAILURE TO PRESS.

I was so terrified after the hit, that I just ran away screaming with tears streaming down my face, as the bug fell from the wall. I'm flailing my arms around like a crazy person, slapping myself all over to make sure that the not-dead bug didn't end up on me, as I announce that I'm going to grab my wimp of a dog, who has been hiding under my bed in fear this entire time, and flee to Ale's place for the night. And that's when I saw it, perched on the side of couch, completely un-phased by my attack. I scream for Ale to tell me what to do, and she insists that I must hit AND PRESS again....there is no other way.  So I muster up all of the courage that I have left in my body, and I strike the roach one more time with all of my might, failing once again to PRESS after hitting it, like an idiot. Major Mistake #4 - FAILURE TO PRESS, AGAIN.

The roach crawls under the couch, as I beg for Ale to come help me because I'm too scared to touch anything in my apartment at this point, but she assures me that there isn't time. So with my heart beating out of my chests, I move the couch....and that giant fucker is no where to found. Thinking that maybe it’s holding on to the under side of the couch, I run to the kitchen grab my swifter wet mop, and start slamming it all up under the couch, jumping back every 5 seconds in fear that it will crawl across my toes. But still there’s no movement. Ale instructs me to barricade off my bedroom and bathroom doors, trapping the roach in the living room, while I move all of my furniture around until I find it. So I slowly and hesitantly begin to pile all of my stuff in the middle of my living room, waiting for the giant-disgusting-monster to lurch out at me with each push of my furniture. At which point MY PHONE DIES.   

So there I am...all alone...trapped in a room with my worst enemy....with zero life line to the outside world. It's my own personal version of a horror movie, and the roach is still no where to be found. So I panic and run screaming into my bedroom with Nelson, and secure us inside by jamming a towel and the Backstreet Boys T-shirt that I made for the BSB concert blog post under the crack at the bottom of my door.

I grabbed Nelson and climbed into bed, putting a hoodie over my head and tightening the draw strings around my face. I laid awake for most of the night, staring at the door, waiting for the beast to make it's entrance cause lets face it those wee little towels blocking the bottom of my door were no match for that beast. I must have dosed off at some point in the early morning hours, and when I awoke I realized to my horror that this was not a bad dream. So I texted my friends for support, as I tried to find the courage to leave my bedroom and assess the situation of doom that awaited me in the living room. I assumed that my friends would all tell me that I was over-reacting, but to my surprise they were all very concerned and supportive of my crisis. 

 

 

 

 

 

I felt like a guest in my own home as I tip-towed around my apartment, doing the bare minimum to get ready for work the next day. I made arrangements for Nelson and I to spend the night with Ale because I certainly wasn't prepared for another evening of terror at my place, and we decided that my next plan of action should be to spray my entire apartment with as much roach killer as I could get my hands on, so I headed to CVS after work to purchase the poison.  Now, I am not a person who is easily embarrassed. I will shamelessly stroll into any store and buy Plan B, a pack of condoms, and a pregnancy test with zero fucks given, but as I found myself standing in the roach killer isle at CVS, I was suddenly overcome by shame. I scanned the store, praying that I wouldn't run into anyone I knew because I was too embarrassed for anyone to see me buying the pesticide and assume that I’m the type of horribly repulsive person that keeps her home in such disarray that I have managed to attract the only insect gross enough that it can live up to 10 days without a head, and survive a nuclear war. I wanted to run though the store screaming, “It’s not me…I bought a stripper pole from China and it came in the box!”

So after sneaking out of CVS with the roach killer in tote, I picked up Ale for moral support, and we sprayed my apartment. And by “WE” I mean Ale sprayed the apartment because I was too creeped out to think about it, and she clearly owed me one for not coming to my rescue the night before. We fumigated then quickly fled the scene, and I spent the night at Ale's vowing to return home the next day, but when I got to my place on Sunday and discovered that my visitor’s dead body was nowhere to be found, I instantly bailed. I just needed more time before I could face reality. On Monday, I finally forced myself to go back home, where I continue to be held captive by the thought of this bug lurking around my apartment. I feel so unsafe at my place now. My home is now my prison and my time spent in its confines is simply about survival. Below is a list of things that I will no longer do in my home because my home is no longer my own, it’s the roaches now, and I am merely a guest.

 

#1. I will not eat in my home for fear of attracting more unwanted pests and/or leaving crumbs behind that may aid in my roommates survival. (Whom I have named Wilbur, by the way.)

 

#2 I will not use any utensils or drink from any unsealed cups in my home out of fear that Wilbur may have crawled across them at some point. (Gag)

 

#3 I will not sleep for fear that Wilbur will come out to play while my eyes are closed and crawl across me as I dream. I simply could not go on living if that were to happen. 

 

#4 I will not walk barefoot or wear open toed shoes in my home for fear that I will cross paths with Wilbur at some point, and be completely unprepared to smash him with my foot.

 

#5 I will not sit on my couch.  My couch is dead to me now.

 

#6 I will not let Nelson out of my sight because he is to much of a wimp to defend himself against our new roommate.

 

#7 I will not laugh in my home because there is nothing to be joyous about. My place is no longer a place of happiness, it's a real life Fear Factor.

 

#8 I will not shower in my home. I will only shower at the gym from here on out for fear of being caught naked and defenseless when Wilbur decides to rear his ugly head.

 

#9. My eyes will always enter every room before my body, and I must be constantly on alert. Always be scanning is my life's new motto.

 

#10. I am writing this blog in the safety of my back yard because being outdoors feels like less of a risk than sitting in my living room when I am distracted with writing. 

 

In conclusion, I have rendered myself homeless out of my own stupidity and the desire to save a couple of bucks by ordering a stripper pole from China. I have only myself to blame for my loss of safety and security, and it is only a matter of time now before I am forced to move, once again, and endure the living hell that is finding a decent apartment in Los Angeles. I have only myself to blame for my failure to PRESS when it came time to attack, and I hope to learn and grow from this mistake. Your support and encouragement is much appreciated during these dire times. NOW FEEL SORRY FOR ME!!!  

 

 

 

 

 

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