AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! In case you didn’t know, that’s the sound of me screaming in terror. No, I wasn’t being chased by a masked serial killer or hunted for sport by a group of scientifically altered super monkeys. It’s so much worse – I saw a roach! It’s the third I’ve seen this week actually, the first two coming out while I was sitting on the toilet. It’s as if they know when I’m the most vulnerable and most likely to be perusing a Chico’s catalog that they strike and scare the crap out of me. Literally.
I am deathly afraid of bugs, especially ones that I feel could take me in a fight. They’re gross, they’re creepy and I feel they bear me ill will. Now I know some of you may be thinking, “What’s the big deal? Bugs are important to our planet’s eco-system. We can all co-habitate peacefully together if we respect each other’s place in this world.” Well, I say back to you: You are a dirty hippie and no one wants to come to your house.
For those of you like myself who find even Jiminy Cricket to be threatening (a bug is even more terrifying when dressed in a top hat and dinner jacket), here is what you can do when you encounter a big-ass, scary ol’ bug:
Upon seeing the horrid creature, scream as if to wake the dead. If possible, continue to scream through the next six steps.
Run from room where said horrid creature was spotted. Remember to shut and lock the door behind you. Careful, it is not scientifically proven* that roaches don’t have opposable thumbs with which to open doors.
*By “not scientifically proven”, I mean I haven’t Googled it yet but I’m pretty sure I’m right.
Abandon your house/apartment and everything in it forever. Why prolong this terror any longer? If this is not possible for reasons I can’t imagine, proceed to step four.
Slowly open door to the room where the bug lays in wait (I hope you’re still screaming). Throw something at it, like a loofah or a Tampax Pearl slender regular. Watch as it scurries to a corner of the room. Good, now you have him exactly where you want him. Ha! The predator is suddenly the predator-ee. That’s a word, right?
Go get the bug spray. If you are like me and forgot to buy it at the market as you got distracted by the free samples of Guac, other sprays will suffice. My special formula includes a random mash-up of Finesse hair spray, tile cleaner, shaving gel and half a can of sunless tanning mist. The roach will still die, only he’ll move on to the next world with silky hair and a coppery but natural looking tan.
Find someone (a guy) to pick up the deceased (but now oddly pretty) roach. Don’t try to do this yourself. If experience has taught me anything, you will only waste an entire roll of paper towels trying to pick it up and end up dropping it as you gag and scream. Call a boyfriend, husband, father, brother or creepy neighbor to do it for you. I’m as much a feminist as the next girl but I’d sooner give up my rights to vote than pick up a big ol’ roach carcass.
All in all, it’ll take about three hours and cost you upwards of $60 bucks in beauty supplies, but it will be worth it because in the end (said like that little old lady from the movie Poltergeist), “Your house is cleaned.”