Today we had someone coming to install an alarm system in our suite. I thought it would be a good idea to do my dishes so that the place didn’t look completely unkempt in case the landlord popped in. What good would it be to do my own dishes if M’s were still in the sink fermenting though? So, out of kindness and embarrassment, I also did her dishes.
All I have to say is, I don’t know what you were eating in Tupperware container number 3 but it was FOUL. There was some sort of tissue as well as perhaps partially digested food that I had to scoop out and dispose of.
Revolting.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Breakfast Was Delicious
Rewind to last night. B, S, and I are enjoying each other’s company in S’s abode. S gets a text from M saying something along the lines of, “I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU – btw, want to go for breakfast tomorrow?” Ok, so she didn’t say I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU but she doesn’t have to, it’s practically scrawled across her forehead. The breakfast invite was directed toward S and only S – an only SLIGHTLY awkward breakfast since S can’t stand the sight of the woman and wants nothing to do with her. She, naturally, doesn’t realize this since she is only ever HALF aware that she is even alive.
Now, fast forward to this morning at 10:20am. I am awoken by a text message – B asking me if I would like to join her and S for breakfast at 11am. I agree whole-heartedly and much to my dismay (B forced me), I sent a text message to M informing her that “we are going to breakfast at 11am, if you would like to come.” One must keep in mind that M never wakes before 3pm on weekends and takes approximately 2 hours to get ready to leave the house, so I knew full well that she would not be able to make it to this breakfast date, which is probably the only reason I agreed to text her a wake up message.
10:25am rolls around and I get a text message from S saying that M has invited him for breakfast at noon, not knowing that he has already planned to attend the breakfast that everyone else is attending. WTF? I knocked on her door and said, “Just so you know, we are all going for breakfast at 11, that is including S, so he won’t be able to make it to your private breakfast at noon.” She decided that 11am was too early for her, so she didn’t join us. What a shame. Breakfast was delicious, just fyi.
Also, due to my own laziness and my desire to well, not go get toilet paper, I caved and asked M to buy it. I sent her a text saying “Can you pick up toilet paper, we are out, thank you.” So she brought home toilet paper. The rolls are so small I might get 3 pees in before I have to switch it out. Maybe I am just hard to please. Or maybe she is a fucking retard.
It’s the latter.
Now, fast forward to this morning at 10:20am. I am awoken by a text message – B asking me if I would like to join her and S for breakfast at 11am. I agree whole-heartedly and much to my dismay (B forced me), I sent a text message to M informing her that “we are going to breakfast at 11am, if you would like to come.” One must keep in mind that M never wakes before 3pm on weekends and takes approximately 2 hours to get ready to leave the house, so I knew full well that she would not be able to make it to this breakfast date, which is probably the only reason I agreed to text her a wake up message.
10:25am rolls around and I get a text message from S saying that M has invited him for breakfast at noon, not knowing that he has already planned to attend the breakfast that everyone else is attending. WTF? I knocked on her door and said, “Just so you know, we are all going for breakfast at 11, that is including S, so he won’t be able to make it to your private breakfast at noon.” She decided that 11am was too early for her, so she didn’t join us. What a shame. Breakfast was delicious, just fyi.
Also, due to my own laziness and my desire to well, not go get toilet paper, I caved and asked M to buy it. I sent her a text saying “Can you pick up toilet paper, we are out, thank you.” So she brought home toilet paper. The rolls are so small I might get 3 pees in before I have to switch it out. Maybe I am just hard to please. Or maybe she is a fucking retard.
It’s the latter.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Toilet Paper
9:47am
We are down to two rolls of toilet paper. Should I just go buy more like I always do or should I finally let her know that we need it? We have lived together for 9 months and she has bought toilet paper approximately 2-3 times. Why would I let her get away with that? Why don’t I just tell her, “It’s your turn”? It all boils down to: if you want something done right, do it yourself.
Before we moved in together, M and I took a little trip to wal-mart for what exactly, I don’t recall. As we make our way to the check-out, shopping finished, M realizes “Aw shit, I forgot, my mom told me to get toilet paper.” I sigh internally – you are so dumb, why didn’t you think of that when we were still actually looking at items to purchase, not making our way to purchase them. People forget things though, so I start to turn around to go to the TP aisle. She stops me, “I’ll just get this” a GIANT 12 pack of Kleenex boxes. This was something you would find at Costco and only a priest would purchase because no one but people attending funerals could possibly use that much tissue – ever.
And so, for fear of her coming home with enough Kleenex to stuff my bra until I’m 85, I buy the toilet paper when the stock is low.
We are down to two rolls of toilet paper. Should I just go buy more like I always do or should I finally let her know that we need it? We have lived together for 9 months and she has bought toilet paper approximately 2-3 times. Why would I let her get away with that? Why don’t I just tell her, “It’s your turn”? It all boils down to: if you want something done right, do it yourself.
Before we moved in together, M and I took a little trip to wal-mart for what exactly, I don’t recall. As we make our way to the check-out, shopping finished, M realizes “Aw shit, I forgot, my mom told me to get toilet paper.” I sigh internally – you are so dumb, why didn’t you think of that when we were still actually looking at items to purchase, not making our way to purchase them. People forget things though, so I start to turn around to go to the TP aisle. She stops me, “I’ll just get this” a GIANT 12 pack of Kleenex boxes. This was something you would find at Costco and only a priest would purchase because no one but people attending funerals could possibly use that much tissue – ever.
And so, for fear of her coming home with enough Kleenex to stuff my bra until I’m 85, I buy the toilet paper when the stock is low.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Mission Failed
5:06pm
I have been holing myself up in my room from the time I arrived home from work (approx 4:30pm) until the time my room mate leaves the house for a birthday party (at approx 7:30pm). Completely to avoid seeing and hearing her. Or worse, speaking to her. Having to engage in mind numbing conversation. “Are you coming tonight?” “No” “Why not?” “Because I hate you” scratch that – “because I don’t feel like it” “Oh ok”.
I both hate and love that she doesn’t care what my response is. I hate it because she is essentially ALWAYS running on auto-pilot. Every word she speaks is painful to listen to – and especially to reply to – considering that it all means NOTHING to her so why bother even looking in her direction? She is a robot. I love it because I don’t want her to care about anything I do. Her caring may mean I should return the favour, no?
Avoiding her has been easy so far as she is not home. It is only 5:09 at the time of this typing though. I fear that I will go stir crazy in my room before she even arrives home and thus, will end up exiting my private quarters and going into the “common area” where she will most likely be wandering around aimlessly unsure of which one of her eyes to follow (one is lazy).
In all honesty, she will most likely be in such a mad rush to make herself look beautiful (a daunting task) for said birthday party that all I would see and hear would be flailing arms and cursing “fuck fuck fuckity fuck, I’m so late.” She is late? Oh, how unusual.
This all being said, I will most likely strategically exit my room when she enters the bathroom – then run back in and close the door when I hear the bathroom door unlocking. Just to feel free.
Update: 6:00pm
I held out as long as I could but unfortunately my stomach lining has started eating itself out of starvation so I must venture out before flies start collecting around my swollen belly.
I have successfully avoided her thus far. She went into the bathroom to shower and that means opportunity! I have put my dinner in the oven, and so it cooks. I also took this chance to snoop at what she intends to wear tonight to the club. She has an affinity for wearing more than one shirt. Tonight it appears that she will be wearing two shirts and a vest. Nice combo, girl.
6:44
Mission failed. We spoke. Well, I nodded a few times during possibly the most boring story I have ever had to listen to, which I will retell here, much to your dismay:
“So, do you want to hear about what HAPPENED today? Well I will tell you anyway. So, I intended to drive out to Vancouver tonight to go to the club. This will not be happening now. In preparation for the trip, after work, I decided to top up my oil and coolant as my car leaks both regularly. So I put some coolant into the tank and then I go on my merry way. Well, not even 5 minutes into my drive and my car is billowing a smoke/steam! So I pull into wal-mart and I get out of my car and step right into a GREEN LIQUID! My coolant had all leaked out…” I am bored just retyping this. Jesus. “So I popped my hood and I was trying to call my grandpa for help and I was holding up my hood and this guy asked me for change for the bus and I was like “CANT YOU SEE I AM IN A PREDICAMENT?” and he wouldn’t go away so I gave him 3 dollars. And then I bought more coolant and I put it in my car and I drove home. So like, yeah my car is fucked”
Does anyone care? I get it. You fail at living. I’m only writing this down right now so that I know I’m not suffering alone. You’re reading it too.
I have been holing myself up in my room from the time I arrived home from work (approx 4:30pm) until the time my room mate leaves the house for a birthday party (at approx 7:30pm). Completely to avoid seeing and hearing her. Or worse, speaking to her. Having to engage in mind numbing conversation. “Are you coming tonight?” “No” “Why not?” “Because I hate you” scratch that – “because I don’t feel like it” “Oh ok”.
I both hate and love that she doesn’t care what my response is. I hate it because she is essentially ALWAYS running on auto-pilot. Every word she speaks is painful to listen to – and especially to reply to – considering that it all means NOTHING to her so why bother even looking in her direction? She is a robot. I love it because I don’t want her to care about anything I do. Her caring may mean I should return the favour, no?
Avoiding her has been easy so far as she is not home. It is only 5:09 at the time of this typing though. I fear that I will go stir crazy in my room before she even arrives home and thus, will end up exiting my private quarters and going into the “common area” where she will most likely be wandering around aimlessly unsure of which one of her eyes to follow (one is lazy).
In all honesty, she will most likely be in such a mad rush to make herself look beautiful (a daunting task) for said birthday party that all I would see and hear would be flailing arms and cursing “fuck fuck fuckity fuck, I’m so late.” She is late? Oh, how unusual.
This all being said, I will most likely strategically exit my room when she enters the bathroom – then run back in and close the door when I hear the bathroom door unlocking. Just to feel free.
Update: 6:00pm
I held out as long as I could but unfortunately my stomach lining has started eating itself out of starvation so I must venture out before flies start collecting around my swollen belly.
I have successfully avoided her thus far. She went into the bathroom to shower and that means opportunity! I have put my dinner in the oven, and so it cooks. I also took this chance to snoop at what she intends to wear tonight to the club. She has an affinity for wearing more than one shirt. Tonight it appears that she will be wearing two shirts and a vest. Nice combo, girl.
6:44
Mission failed. We spoke. Well, I nodded a few times during possibly the most boring story I have ever had to listen to, which I will retell here, much to your dismay:
“So, do you want to hear about what HAPPENED today? Well I will tell you anyway. So, I intended to drive out to Vancouver tonight to go to the club. This will not be happening now. In preparation for the trip, after work, I decided to top up my oil and coolant as my car leaks both regularly. So I put some coolant into the tank and then I go on my merry way. Well, not even 5 minutes into my drive and my car is billowing a smoke/steam! So I pull into wal-mart and I get out of my car and step right into a GREEN LIQUID! My coolant had all leaked out…” I am bored just retyping this. Jesus. “So I popped my hood and I was trying to call my grandpa for help and I was holding up my hood and this guy asked me for change for the bus and I was like “CANT YOU SEE I AM IN A PREDICAMENT?” and he wouldn’t go away so I gave him 3 dollars. And then I bought more coolant and I put it in my car and I drove home. So like, yeah my car is fucked”
Does anyone care? I get it. You fail at living. I’m only writing this down right now so that I know I’m not suffering alone. You’re reading it too.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Prologue
I was sitting on the toilet, staring at the hair elastic my roommate had dropped and left on the floor when I realized that if I didn’t start some sort of journal to use as a mental release – I will go crazy.
The elastic band was causing anger to well up in me. This isn’t normal, by any means. But, when you pick up elastic bands on a near daily basis and place them on the counter for someone who can’t be bothered to do it themselves, it starts to pick, pick, pick away at you. And here we are…
The elastic band was causing anger to well up in me. This isn’t normal, by any means. But, when you pick up elastic bands on a near daily basis and place them on the counter for someone who can’t be bothered to do it themselves, it starts to pick, pick, pick away at you. And here we are…
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