Of roaches and men

by Annie Beltran

Yesterday I saw a roach while hanging out with my friend. First off, do me a solid and get the idea out of your head that it was in my home. Also, I will not divulge at whose house the sighting occurred at for the sake of maintaining future friendships.

I think it’s safe to assume most people know that if you see one roach, then you are definitely surrounded by others.  Roaches live in the walls, under the carpet and of course, in various communities south of Chula Vista.

I can’t handle bug guts—squashing bugs makes me gag.  My body completely skips nausea and jumps right into heavy dry heaving.  I don’t actually produce vomit; one hand frantically starts waving in the air while the other clutches my stomach trying to keep it all in.

Please don’t mistake my “bug guts” intolerance for me being a bug rights activist. I am far from it. I consider the use of boric acid as the best method for bug annihilation.  When spreading this powdery chemical throughout your house, your little problems inhale it and experience a feeling similar to sharp razor blades to the lungs.  I can only hope it’s a slow death, and the little problems shrill loud bug squeals to all their bug friends, informing their tiny bug tribe of their need to evacuate the premises immediately.

I am slightly sad to say that once I saw the roach, a silent stream of judgment instantly flooded my head.  However, I could complain about nearly every aspect of my day.  In my mental capacity, seeing a roach in a friend’s house is equivalent to One Direction showing up at my 11-year-old niece’s birthday party.  She would explode, her short pre-teen body unable to handle the event actually happening and causing her to spontaneously combust from sheer excitement. For your information, I love my short niece too much to invite One Direction over for some princess birthday cake, ultimately risking her life.

Okay, so maybe I am judging my friend and her house.  It doesn’t mean I don’t want to be friends, it just means that I can’t be positive she washes her hands every time she uses the restroom.

I was in the Navy once. Do you know what will take down 5,000 crew members onboard a U.S. Navy aircraft carrier in the middle of the Persian Gulf?  Gastroenteritis, or as we called it, GI GI take-down.  Bubble guts and a runny butt—it’s like your insides want to be your outsides.  How does it spread so swiftly?  One person doesn’t wash his or her hands after using the restroom and then decides to high-five every fellow crew member on the way to the lunch room.

Roaches are disgusting. Roaches in the home are disgusting.  Roaches in a kitchen … I have to pause for heavy dry heaves.  I’m sorry.  I can’t handle it.

I know there are many reasons for having a roach infestation problem.  If you live in an apartment complex, your neighbor could be the disgustoid responsible for ruining your life with roaches.  Or the tenants who occupied your apartment before you were jerks who left the little problems left behind for your landlord to refuse to pay extra extermination fees for.  Lord knows the day a San Diego landlord cares enough about his or her tenants to pay extra money for anything will be the day we have achieved true world peace.

I was perturbed when I saw it, and that little black demon could tell.  He promptly flipped me the bird as soon as he saw my angry scrunched up face.

“Hey friend, a roach just walked across the living room, straight up on the coffee table, onto my cheese plate and grabbed himself a wheat cracker with a spread of my good brie,” I said.

That rude 6-legged pest was so comfortable at my friend’s house he drank right out of my glass.  I was immediately reminded of my guest status in their home.

Where should I have gone from this moment on?  Surrounded by my friend’s infestation issues, I felt I was in too deep.  As a polite person, I think it would have been less than cordial for me to bolt out of the house before we finished every episode of Jersey Shore.

Had I hopped up 3 feet off the couch, pointed hysterically at the coffee table and run like Forrest Gump until I found enough boric acid to cover the entire floor plan of the house, someone’s feelings might have been hurt.

I finished our friend night.  I did have to excuse myself to the young ladies room for a quick panic attack and a Xanax, but friendships are important to me.  My friend, the roach and I even enjoyed an awesome round of charades after the Jersey Shore episodes ended.