Because I didn't want to live with my dad and stepmother upon my arrival to California, I arranged my living situation while I was still in Minnesota.
This means that I moved into a house in Orange County, sight unseen. A house, I later learned from almost everyone I've talked to, is in a Bad City. Dangerous City. City full of Asians, Hispanics, and doughnut shops. Those three things alone don't seem bad - Shakopee, MN is like the Little Mexico of the Midwest. But apparently the area is still up and coming, so it's shady to be walking around after dark.
The stop sign in front of the place is tagged with graffiti, front and back.
But I've got pepper spray and a seriously dangerous tongue. So that doesn't bother me much. Really, the problem is that it's a house with four men.
Having lived in a house with four adults for a couple of years, I figured it would be a cinch. But I forgot that either the man/woman ratio has been even, or there has been an abundance of vaginas in every case.
Did ya'll know that men are weird?
There’s Mr. Hispanic, the retired guy. He’s going to school to get re-certified in automotive smog testing and state certification. That’s something new to me – Either Minnesota doesn’t give a fuck about having clean air, or California’s air is just *that* much worse. Or the broke government in CA just wants additional revenue from drivers getting smog certification testing. Mr. Hispanic walks around shirtless all day long, but is never without a blue tooth in his ear. He just took in two teacup chihuahuas, and he spends most of his time trying to get them to poop outside.
Then there’s the nameless black guy. I say that because no one in the house knows his name. Literally no one. I introduced myself once when we met in the hallway, and he turned around, went into his bedroom and shut the door. He has tall hair and makes frequent, righteously indignant phone calls while pacing the property.
There’s also John, the uber religious guy who works two jobs and goes to school and also, at some point, was an aspiring model. Or is one, I'm not sure. I just know I saw his head shots and he could totally be a model. Tall with eyelashes nearly as tall as he is. He’s the one who contacted me about the room being available. The landlady was going to try to find a disabled tenant, and John felt this would make the living situation awkward. Or something, I wasn't really listening after I saw his pictures.
The fourth guy was originally thin white kid (also didn't catch his name), but he moved out (and - we think - in with a maybe pregnant girlfriend), so then Mr. Hispanic's also-Hispanic brother moved in. The brother is very nice, but is painfully shy – the other day, I was walking into the garage and he was walking towards the bathroom. Startled to see me, he apologized (for existing?) and practically ran back the way he’d come.
Then there’s Filipino the landlady. She lives in the home. Kind of. I’ve never met her. I guess she does in-home health care and is rarely at her own house, so Mr. Hispanic is kind of in charge in her absence.
Actually, I guess The Rules are in charge.
There are pieces of paper posted to the walls in nearly every room of the house. Coming from my house in Minnesota – that I own – this has been quite a shock to the system. Also made me wonder why I never thought to post house rules in my own home, seeing as I have two tenants at any given time.
Then again - aside from last year's Zebra Cakes tenant, I’ve never run into problems.
But the landlady is very serious about her rules, some of which are such basic courtesy that it makes me scared to live here. My favorite is that you must spray air freshener after using the bathroom. She says there are 4 scents to choose from, but you'll notice that the note was dated May 2012, so now we're down to only 1.
Actually, I bought one scent myself but it mysteriously disappeared around the time when think white kid moved out. I'm guessing he needed it to mask the smell of his pregnant girlfriend.
Between the penis and the rules, after owning my own place for so long, I'm really not feeling at home here, so after a little less than a month, I've decided I'm moving the fuck out.
I found another room nearby in a house with a young couple, their two daughters, and another female tenant. It feels more like home than this place, and it's a little cheaper. Scary hates it there because they have three other EXTREMELY hyper dogs, however Scary is old and does nothing but lay around in my bedroom. I'm sure I can run interference if necessary.
Well, I can always move again.