This Is The End

If you could go to YouTube and find the 10 minute long version of The End by The Doors, it would definitely be a nice accompaniment to this post as I am somewhat sad to say that this chapter of my life is officially over. Yes, M came today to get her security deposit back from the landlords and washed her hands of this place! People have asked me if I am sad about her departure and I can say, without a doubt, that I am completely ecstatic that I never have to wake up another day with the most pathetic human being I’ve ever encountered, in my fucking house. That aside, her leaving and thus the blog ending, is extremely bittersweet. I’ve decided to take this time to say a few things and answer a few questions that I’ve been asked throughout the life of The Room-Mate Chronicles.


“Holy shit, did this/that/and the other thing really happen???”
Every single thing that you have read in this blog is the complete truth. I know that many of the ridiculous stunts or comments that M has made (eg. Thinking eggs and pasta are one in the same, self-prescribing a neck brace, hot-wiring her own car) seem to be unfathomable but I kid you not, they happened. In fact, I have left out certain ridiculous things because I’ve questioned their validity. Sadly, M really is that dumb. I promise.


What are you going to do now?
Well I am going to enjoy peace and quiet, good smelling food, and clean dishes! I would love to start a new blog in the future but I am undecided at the moment about what to write on. This will be my last official post here at RC but I may or may not post in the future if something incredible happens. Any future posts will be strictly for my own records though, and I don’t expect any of your to check back (I am quite anal, you know.)


Why did you start this blog?
I started this blog for two reasons. The first reason being: release. Living with someone you despise can be extremely taxing on your mental well being. I felt on the verge of implosion! I had to somehow externalize my feelings and outrage and so I decided to write it all down. The second reason is really the most important: this shit NEEDS to be documented. While living with M, even I was startled at some of the events that transpired. I mean, they were like pinch-yourself moments where you feel that what is happening can’t possibly be real. My only regret is that I didn’t start the blog the very day we moved in together. So many wonderful and equally absurd things happened before the blog’s creation, though none nearly as tragic as say, her not going to work for 5 days. For the sake of nostalgia, I will share one with you now:

I was sitting on the couch watching TV one rainy weekday when M walks in the door completely soaked and miserable. Assuming she got fired, I begrudgingly asked her how she was.

“Oh, just great! I got HIT BY A CAR.”

This got my attention, of course, and I asked her what the damage was (this was back when she had her original red golf).

She replied, “No no, I got hit by a car. Me. My body.”

Trying to hold back laughter, I pretended that my chuckle and huge grin was due to my utter disbelief, rather than my glee. She then continues to explain that she was travelling down a hill when the car ahead of her hit a cyclist. The cyclist flew to the side of the road and M ran over his bike, entirely. Yes, I know. It gets even better. A police officer was across the road by chance and so after M backed her car off of the guy’s bike, the officer took everyone’s statements. When M was crossing the road to go back to her car, another car hit her side and she flew to the muddy ground. I then asked what the people said who hit her, and she told me that they just kept driving. So she’s writhing on the ground, just struck by a civic, and they didn’t even stop? I think this is an actual metaphor for her life. She fucks shit up which causes her to be fucked up and in the end, no one fucking cares.


My rant to the haters: I’ve received some flack here and there from people who think I am exploiting M despite her being so mentally downtrodden. “A good person would help her, not just laugh at her!” Fuck. You. You tell me that after you wake up every day seeing her acne-riddled face. You tell me that after you do everything in your power to drag her out of bed and get her to go into work. You tell me that after you clean up her hair off the bathroom floor. You tell me that after she cooks a fucking frozen lasagna in the microwave for 25 minutes. You tell me that after she buys an “electric ice scraper” and suggests you and her share it. You tell me that after you watch her dance like goddess bunny in her round toed Steve fucking Maddens. You tell me that after you watch her drive her own damn car into her grandfather’s garage door. You tell me that after you listen to her talk about how sexy her “bootay” is or how she’s going for a java, or how much she fucking LOVES Starbucks, her gay friends, jell-o, ichiban, puppies, her stupid broken Jetta. I HATE HER. Despite the immense joy I get out of watching a train wreck bigger than Britney, I truly do hate that bitch!


Phewf. Now I feel better. I want to give a huge thanks to my partner in crime, B. She has helped me gather priceless information for this blog when my eyes have not been present, and most importantly, she both understands and somewhat shares my complete thirst for everything M-related. She knows that I thrive off of every tidbit of new information that I can get and now that I don’t have the immense displeasure of seeing M every day, I will be relying on her more and more to give me the news of M’s next tragedy.


I also want to thank you, the reader of this glorious blog. I’m very thankful for the kind words and support that I’ve been given over the course of this. I know many people who have started reading the blog and then finished it one or two sittings. I also know people who witnessed the birth of this blog and still message me daily asking when the new post will be up. I’m grateful to know that I am not alone in my obsession and that I am also not alone in finding these antics to be newsworthy. This is the only blog that I’ve taken part in that has had a clear beginning and end and I am proud of myself for sticking with it. This would have been a tragedy in itself if this blog just petered away, without any of us knowing M’s fate.


Now, I better go before I get all misty-eyed. Again, a thousand times: thank you for sharing this with me!

The Big Move

In true M fashion, she has left everything to the last minute. I read her twitter this morning which was updated at 8am and said she was at work cleaning up puke. This is hilarious for two reasons: 1. This means she is at work, and not moving on her last day possible to move and 2. She is cleaning up someone’s vomit. Why is it hilarious that she isn’t moving? Well, I get to beat her down, obviously.

Update:
Much to my surprise, it is 3pm and she is moving all of her belongings out as I type! She sent me a text saying that she is going to be completely done moving and cleaning at 5pm. I told her to give the landlords the key, which she did! She is coming back tomorrow to talk to them about receiving her half of the damage deposit and then she disappears in a puff of lethal gas to dissipate out of my life for good.

Two Days

She has two days until she must officially be out. She hasn’t been here since her “big move” of last Wednesday when she took a whopping ONE item from her room. I can’t wait to charge her storage when she doesn’t get all her crap out on time. B asked if she could come over near midnight on Thursday and even if M is moving her shit out, she said she’ll grab it out of her hands and throw it outside on the lawn. I second this and I’m almost hoping she doesn’t get out on time now.

One Week and One Day

Since M and I only communicate via text now, I received one saying that she ran into a problem getting someone with a truck to help her move. I bet the problem is that no one fucking likes her or wants to help her move her roomful of garbage. She told me that she “got most of it” and that she would be done on Tuesday or Wednesday next week. Well, I definitely hope so because Thursday is her last day in the SS chateau.

And so that you know, when I came home today I got to have a look at what “got most of it” means: she took her desk. Remaining: 6 bags of garbage, bed, dresser, bookshelf, and some random items like a mirror and art she never hung.

One week and one day, bitches!!!

Crazy.

Earlier today, M sent me a text that said she was going to spend today and tomorrow moving the rest of her belongings out. I came home to see that she had only removed two boxes and taken her bed apart. Of course, this means that tomorrow she will have to move: 6 bags of garbage, a dresser, a desk, a bed, a bookshelf, and countless boxes of complete junk. I have a strange suspicion that she won’t actually get it all done! Call me crazy.

Eleven More.

Today was her last day off. She moved everything out and all is well and happy! Just kidding, of course. She didn’t move a fucking thing and all is HORRIBLE and MISERABLE. Eleven more days and I can throw her shit on the front lawn.

Mobile Moving

Well, M told me that she has today and tomorrow off of work so she should have all of her shit out of her room. Surprise surprise, I came home today and checked to see what exactly she took today and of course, barely anything. She still has 6 garbage bags, a dresser, a bed, a desk, and a bookshelf. In addition to this, there are several boxes and trinkets here and there on the floor. Now, I know what you’re thinking. If all of this remains, what on earth could she have possibly taken today? Her bedside table, of course.

Yes, she took one item today. What was she using as a moving vehicle? Her fucking bicycle? Oh, that’s right, she doesn’t know how to ride one because she is RETARDED.

Loser.

Drama-rama! I have been reading M’s twitter updates, of course. Naturally, she’s been non-stop blabbing about her love for S. They are painful things like, “I didn’t break it so why do I have to be the one to fix it” etc. She’s deleted them all now, but they were pretty damn priceless and desperate. He never liked you, even as a friend, you loser.

Anyway, I have been updating S whenever she writes something about him. This was silly of me because apparently I am the only one who can manage to keep anything from anyone. S tells his sister that M is insane and needs to stop writing crazy shit about him. His sister responds, “I don’t think that’s her on there.” Um, I’m pretty certain, since there is a PHOTO of her. God.

So now M knows that I read her tweets and is most certainly censoring herself now. She also thinks I should get a life. Ok, I probably should, but someone needs to document her existence so that future generations know how not to fuck up their lives.

Celebrity.

Tonight I had dinner plans with some friends that involved a few other people joining us that I didn’t know. B and I took this opportunity to tell these new comers all about the catastrophe that is M. I think we talked about her for over an hour and I could have kept going all night because quite frankly, she is a never ending well of ridiculous stories. Every time I blab on and on about M, or I share this blog with anyone, it usually ends in the same result, “I need to meet this girl.” I understand, it’s like meeting Amy Winehouse or Courtney Love. I gave these people the next best thing though, a tour of M’s room. Don’t worry, they kept their shoes on and didn’t touch anything. I don’t need to be sued.

In other news, I took a look at her blog today and it turns out that her account has been suspended due to non-payment. Yes, it actually said non-payment. That’s embarrassing.

Purge.

M claimed she was moving the rest of her shit today, which I was quite excited about because it was raining like a motherfucker and there’s nothing better than moving in the rain! Who are we kidding though, she didn’t take a single thing out of that room today.

Last night was my first roommateless night! Sure, all of her crap is still here and she still has a key, but she won’t be sleeping here anymore. Living alone is INCREDIBLE, even though it has only been one night. The door will never close on the bathroom again! One bad thing is that I will have to refer to her as “my friend” rather than my “roommate.” That is so much worse than people thinking I simply live with her.

We finally talked to the landlords and gave them notice. It was so incredibly awkward. I refused to be the one to inform them, since of course it wasn’t my decision, but that meant that it was up to M to do. We sat on the couch in silence for what seemed like 15 minutes. We would stare at the dog and laugh a little when he started going randomly ballistic at us. It was painful. Finally, M let it out and that was that. It was actually the landlord’s wife though, so her husband is going to come down this evening and I’m going to try and wheel and deal with him. Pray that I stay.

Another funny little tidbit that I found out today was that M is already sick of her grandpa! She sent me a message saying that he is getting on her nerves and that it is “his way or the highway!” I asked her what she meant and she said that he FORCED her to go take out a loan to get her brakes on her car done. She said they charged her $2800 for her brakes, calipers, rotors, brake lines, e-brake and some other brake-related crap. Who the fuck would pay that much money? Is it even possible for it to cost that much? And who keeps giving this girl loans??? Ah, the questions I will ponder until my death.


Update! The landlords are letting me stay!!! My rent has gone up a couple hundred bucks and they said that I could stay for “a few months” and then he would re-evaluate their financial situation. Ok, so maybe it’s not the best news ever but the fact that I don’t have to move in 30 days makes me feel INCREDIBLE!!! I even went and packed up all of M’s food, dishes, and laundry stuff and put it in her room. It is time to purge!

You Have No Funds

Today is the day that M “moved out!” I saw that in quotes because when I got home today and I looked in her room, it actually looked like she ADDED more shit to it. She had sent me a message earlier in the day telling me that she had moved everything but her furniture. It looks like she may have boxed and bagged up all of her belongings but I don’t think she’s actually removed anything from the premises other than her bathroom items.







Speaking of bathroom items, I went today and bought a pack of toilet paper and soap because last night I had to hide our last roll so that she wouldn’t use it. She still hadn’t bought any as of last night and when I woke up this morning, she had left ONE SQUARE for me to wipe my preciousness with. Fuckin’ dickwad. Of course the day that I buy some is the day that I come home to see that she has also purchased it. It’s about time!

So this is going to be one more day without us telling the landlords about M’s departure, despite the fact that she was apparently moving out today. She said that they didn’t see her moving out like a thief in the night, thank god. Apparently, she has a “prior engagement” to attend tonight so she can’t tell them. Um, yeah, you also have a “30 days notice” to give. M has also told me that tomorrow she has a very busy day as she is getting her brakes done. She claims this will cost her $2000 and it will take all day, so she’s hoping to swing by to talk to the landlords after that. When I exclaimed at the cost of her brakes, she went on to say that she was going to see an accountant as well. Um, for what? Who would possibly look at her seriously and what would they say? “Um, I’m sorry, Ma’am, but I have nothing to account. You have no funds.”

I’ve been talking to S over the past few days and he’s told me that M won’t stop e-mailing and messaging him. She keeps lamenting over his “betrayal” of her. He told her that he just doesn’t give a shit. I apologized for letting the cat out of the bag and getting him more involved than he was, to which he replied, “I could kill her whole family and she wouldn’t stay mad at me.” Touche, my friend, touché.
Anyway, I’m starting to get happier each day that I get closer to expelling her from my life like toxic waste. I just pray that the landlords let me stay here!

Wait a second, I just realized that those 6 garbage bags are not filled with her belongings, they are filled with ACTUAL GARBAGE. That is intense!

Great idea, numbnuts.

I came home for lunch today and, as usual, I went into M’s room to check the status on her packing. To my surprise and utter enjoyment, she had placed a bottle behind her door. I’m assuming she placed it there so that she would know if I came in, since the bottle would have been moved or knocked over by the door on my entrance. Oh, sweet and naïve girl, you are so fucking dumb. First of all, if you’re going to do that, you need to place something there that I won’t NOTICE. Perhaps something soft? Not a fuckin’ bottle that I feel the moment I put any pressure on the door. Second of all, obviously I’m just going to into your room and then put the bottle back the same way you did!

Please, people, I am way too fuckin’ savvy for this shit.

In other news, we went up to tell the landlords the situation. They weren’t home, unfortunately. It was only slightly awkward between M and I as we managed to have some civil conversation and a few jokes. She told me that she is moving tomorrow and that all but a few things will be gone! Finally the day is upon us.

Kobe Beef

So, it’s Sunday and she was supposed to give me the whole, “I’m fucking you in the ass by moving out” news on Friday. It’s 7pm now and M is still not up yet, so obviously she still hasn’t told me! I think she will probably just keep sleeping until tomorrow so that she can avoid telling me for one more day. How fucking pathetic.

Breaking news! She posted on her Facebook page at 6:30pm! This means that she is actually awake in her room and just hasn’t come out. I’ve been home all day with my bedroom door open, waiting. She hasn’t come out to eat or go to the bathroom or anything. What a fucking PSYCHO! She is that afraid? According to S, she hasn’t told me yet because I am “never around.” This is just getting absurd. I’ve written her a little “letter” that I intend to hand to her when she gives me the news… IF she ever gives me the news. It is as follows:

1. You cannot throw all your garbage out with our pick up. We only get one garbage can and it is not my fault that you haven't cleaned your room in well over a year.

2. You are coming back to clean when I move.

3. You are paying next month's rent.

4. You get your half of the deposit when I move, if they give the entire amount back.

Also, just so that you know, I have known for a week about you moving. I think that is shows a great deal about your character to have known for this long without giving me a heads up. It is also very telling that you expected me to damage your property or yell at you.

I am far too aware of the power of words and know that is unnecessary to use force to get a point across. I hope you are embarrassed about how you expected me to behave, especially considering the fact that I have never raised my voice in anger to you, ever.

I don't blame you for taking this opportunity - it is something that you desperately need, considering your financial situation. The only reason I am angry or upset at you is due to the way you handled the situation. The fact that you hid it from me and also the fact that you expected me to vandalize your car is a huge lack of respect for me and it is a shame you know me so little, even after living with me for a year and a half.


Update:

So I just confronted M because it was 9 o’clock and she still had not come out of her room, despite being awake since 6:30. She just got up moments ago, casually made conversation with me, had her shower and then disappeared back into her room. I knocked on the door and asked, “So you had something to talk to me about?” She replied, “Actually… Yes, I am going to be moving this month. But I am paying for the rent, of course.” She said it in a whisper so quiet I could barely make it out. I then told her that I’ve been waiting for a week for her to buck up and tell me. She asked how I knew and I told her that S told me, but that before she gets angry at him, to realize that he knew that pretending for a week without allowing me that extra time to look for a place of my own was not the right thing to do. I then read out the list of things that I want her to do before she leaves and she meekly nodded that she would do them, then I handed her the letter and told her to get her shit ready to go talk to the land lords. Actually, change of plans – We are going to talk to the landlords tomorrow after she gets off work at 7:30. It’s too late to talk to them now, I don’t want to look like an asshole going up there at 10pm on a Sunday night. Also, I don’t want her to start blubbering like an idiot because she’s so shaken up.

Update #2: Wow. I just went out to grab a drink of water before I head to bed and M has left a letter for me! The contents are as follows:

I just wanted to respond to a few thing. You said not telling you for a week reflects negatively on my character. Well, yeah, I should have told you sooner but it is hard for me to tell people things of an important or “bad news” nature. I really don’t like confrontation and I know that is something I should work on.
But you’re no character angel yourself, oh gossip queen, so let’s not judge each other.

I hope that we can continue to be civil and respectful for the next few weeks. Anyway, I will be home between 7:30 and 8pm tomorrow so we can talk to the landlords then.

P.S. Yes, obviously I’m paying April’s rent and wouldn’t dream of putting garbage out tomorrow in more amounts than we’re allowed. As for your other ‘terms’, I will consider.

See you tomorrow,
M.

Oh, I see the claws have come out! Wait, isn’t it my ass being fucked here? I kind of took my asshole behavior down a notch in my reply because unfortunately I have to share a living space and a lot of friends with this girl. My reply, via Blackberry Messenger was:

Hey, I don’t want this to be a big thing. I wanted to get how I felt off my chest and I hope you understand that. Like I said, I’m not mad about you moving. I totally understand. The whole situation is upsetting though, for both of us. So obviously we can be civil and I don’t think has to be the end of our friendship or anything ridiculous like that. I’m just obviously stressed that I need to move and you didn’t give me the heads up when you knew for a week. So now that I got it off my chest, I hope we’re cool. As far as my “terms” they’re just shit from the rental agreement. Of course you have to clean, we both lived here! And I don’t get my damage deposit back until we both leave either. The tp and soap, well let’s be realistic, I’ve bought 90% of it so its only fair. And that’s all I have to say about it, lol. I feel better now that it’s out in the open so I hope you do too.

M: Ya, for sure. It’s not so much about finances for me though, although ya, that’s an important part. Just stuff… that doesn’t matter but has made me see its for the best that this happen. So ya, I’ll pick up some soap and tp and see you tomorrow evening.

Ohhh, this is getting juicier than a plate of kobe beef!

TP and Soap

I woke up bright and early this morning as always! I went to see a place at 1pm and unfortunately it was so small that I could only fit about half of my belongings in it and it’s significantly more than I’m paying now. Woe is me. I guess it is an alright last resort but I still have a month so I’m going to keep on looking.
When I left to go view the place, M was still sleeping of course. When I got back, the light in her room was on but the door was closed, so I sat in the living room and watched TV for at least an hour. I waited for her to come out and finally I went into my room but left the door wide open so that she would see that I’m available so come and talk to me!

No such luck, she literally tiptoed out of the house. I wasn’t listening to music and my door was wide open, yet I didn’t hear her door open, her put her shoes on, or her open the main door. WTF! She is sneaking out in order to avoid talking to me. This is just beyond weird and so fucking inconsiderate.

Anyway, because I was so annoyed, I immediately sent her a text message that said “Bring TP and soap.” She got paid yesterday so that means she can’t use the, “I’m broke” excuse anymore. She responded with, “Ok, I will be home at 5:30 and I have something to talk to you about then.” I said, “Sure, just bring TP and soap.” I’m cold like ice, baby!

Naturally, at 5:45, I get a text saying that she is running late and won’t be able to talk to me today. An hour later she came to the house with her co-worker and they got dressed up in space-themed outfits for some charity bowling event. I wonder if the proceeds go to M’s failure at life?

She didn’t mention a single thing about moving, of course (and no, she didn't bring TP or soap). She also didn’t show her co-worker her room. Um, yeah, good idea.

Get out!

Things that have me excited about M’s departure:

1. No more dirty dishes in the sink! She runs water over her dishes when they are stilled filled with food matter and that creates a disgusting looking soupy mess. It sits there for days on end and I have to look at it while I do my own dishes. I also try ever so carefully not to accidentally touch it!

2. No more food in the fridge for countless months. She leaves it there and then forgets that it is hers! Expired yogurt, milk, buns, cheese, etc!

3. The tooth brush holder won’t fill up with water anymore! She puts her toothbrush back in and it’s so soaking wet still that it gradually starts filling the cup with water. I clean it out all the time, and it is something that I don’t think she has ever even noticed! It is so gross!!!

4. Her ugly shoes will finally be off my shoe rack. Your feet are fucking gigantic and your shoes don’t fit on the rack properly, so fuck off!!!

5. We won’t go through a pack of toilet paper a week! No more mystery wads of TP filling up the garbage can in the bathroom. That also means that I won’t have to change the garbage can in there every week. A full size garbage can and it would be full EVERY single week!

6. I hate vacuuming up her stray hairs. All the hairs will be mine, and it is much less disgusting and infuriating to clean up your own!

7. Her face, her work stories, her car stories!

8. I can stop walking around with this notebook that I keep all my Roomie Chron notes in!!!


Update:

I’m so infuriated. I cam home at 8:30 tonight expecting her to be there to tell me the big news, it is Friday after all! Through S, I found out that M is at a friend’s house and plans on going to see a movie tonight just to avoid me. Fuckin’ ridiculous. Man up! Apparently, she tried telling the landlords but they weren’t home. So, everyone and me will be asleep by the time her movie ends, does this mean we are all going to just wake up to see her moving out tomorrow?

I took a little look-see in her room and noticed about 4 moving boxes. I have to say, I’d be depressed if my life fit into four boxes. Then again, I’d be depressed if I was M, in general.

I’m supposed to be seeing two places tomorrow, wish me luck!

Anticipation

I've gotta be honest here, I have huge doubts that M is going to pull off a big move on Saturday. She hasn’t packed a single thing, she hasn’t thrown anything away, and her room looks exactly like it did before she ever decided to move. There isn’t even any inclination that she is moving, like I dunno... boxes! Nothing at all, and I’m even starting to wonder if this is even happening at all. Maybe S got the info wrong, or maybe M changed her mind?

The anticipation is building but at least it will all come to an end tomorrow when she finally lets the cat out of the bag. I’ve been dreading this awkward conversation all week now. She has barely been here because I’m sure she’s avoiding me and I’m thankful because smiling at her while she lies to my face is a little more than I can stomach! I also have to go to my Mom's birthday dinner tomorrow night so I won't even be home right after work... ahhh, I want to get this over with.

Good luck to me tomorrow. Let's do this shit!

AGHHHH!

The dishes have been piling up in M’s sink and of course she won’t wash them until the tower is higher than the one in fucking Piza. She has used every glass in the house except for one. She’s left one in the cupboard because I had a shit fit last time she used all of them and didn’t wash any. The funny thing is, she’s been reusing her travel coffee mug rather than just WASHING THE DISHES. My question, why can’t she reuse a regular glass instead of her coffee mug? Her thought process is more baffling than the chicken and the egg.

Thankfully, I haven’t seen her since I found out the big news about her moving. I decided to ask her to buy more toilet paper and liquid hand soap before she finds out that I know! I’m so devious. Of course, when I asked her to pick up the necessities, she responded with , “Can it wait until Friday, I’m broke!” Well, I’m not fucking buying the shit for the millionth time in a row, so I guess we’re not washing our hands till the end of the week. This is the second time that she has told me she doesn’t have enough money to afford toilet paper. The second time out of a total of THREE times that I’ve ever asked her. What the fuck would she do if I wasn’t here to provide my dollar bills to cleanse her fucking asshole? AGHHHH!!!

Good Riddance

I’ve spent all day searching online for places to live. It’s such a hassle because the only things I can reasonably afford are either total shit holes or the size of my asshole. I am so angry and frustrated with everything that I just want to be childish and petty. Like hide the toilet paper, hand soap, dish soap, dishes, EVERYTHING because she hasn’t paid for a single item in that house. She just uses and uses like it is all a never ending supply.

Turns out that her grandpa has offered for her to come live with him rent free because his wife has just passed away and he knows that M is in dire financial trouble. Ok. I know that this is a very good opportunity for M to cut a big monthly cost out of her budget and put it towards paying back her mountain of debt. I can’t blame her for taking this opportunity but it fucks me over somethin’ fierce!

I still can’t believe that she is going to pretend she doesn’t know all week. How can she look me in the eye knowing that she’s going to be dropping a bomb on Friday? I would give her as much notice as possible so that she could start looking! She is such an idiot.

She also told S that she “better get the security deposit back!” She makes it sound like it is my responsibility to give that back to her. Give me a break. There is no way I am handing her that money back, it was given to the landlords. She is also coming back in one month’s time and helping me clean the place. Then, after the inspection, if they decide the place hasn’t been trashed, they will hand her the money. No reason to get all indignant about it.
Good riddance, cow.

Ahem.

Forgive my caps-filled Kanye-esque rant. I have had a chance to cool down now but I am still extremely angry because M has decided that she is moving out. Of course, I am more than pleased that I will never have to see her stupid fucking face in my home ever again but I am not pleased that I have to either pay double the rent or move the fuck out of dodge.

Despite the fact that M has been wiping her ass with my money for the past year and a half, she doesn't think she owes me the courtesy of telling me she's moving until Friday. Why? Because she is scared that I will damage her car so she wants to wait until the day before she moves out. S was the one who let me know this info, since I suppose she confided in him, which was her mistake. He thought it would nice to let me know ahead of time so that I have, oh I don't know, a chance to look for a NEW HOME.

According to S, she plans to pay for next month's rent and tell the landlords, then tell me on Friday, and then finally move out on Saturday. What a sneaky little bitch.

Fuck You.

FUCK YOU

YOU STUPID FUCKING CUNT, I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON ALL THE GODDAMN PILES OF HAIR THAT HAVE CLUMPED AND MATTED INTO THEIR OWN BEINGS ON YOUR FLOOR. YOU USE ME TO CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR LAZY ASS AND BUY YOUR FUCKING TOILET PAPER AND YOU USE MY KETCHUP TO MAKE SHIT FUCKING SOUP. ALL YOU DO IS SLEEP, SHOWER, AND FUCKING WORK. I HATE YOU. I HAVE HATED YOU SINCE HIGH SCHOOL. WE WOULD DITCH YOU AT LUNCH TIME BECAUSE IT IS AGONIZING TO WATCH YOU EAT, ALL YOU DO IS STARE AT YOUR FOOD FOR 30 SECONDS BEFORE YOU EVEN TAKE A BITE. AND THE WAY YOU MOVE YOUR MOUTH IS NOT FUCKING CUTE, ITS FUCKING DISGUSTING AND IT MAKES YOU LOOK LIKE YOU’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A STROKE.

YOU ARE MOVING IN ORDER TO GET OUT OF DEBT? GIVE ME A BREAK – THAT WILL NEVER, EVER HAPPEN. YOU SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO HAVE A CREDIT CARD OR EVEN A LIBRARY CARD FOR THAT FUCKING MATTER. THE FACT THAT YOU AREN’T TELLING ME UNTIL FRIDAY IS A FUCKING JOKE – YOU THINK I’M GOING TO DAMAGE YOUR CAR BECAUSE YOU’RE MOVING OUT? GIVE ME A BREAK, YOU OBVIOUSLY DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT ME. I WOULD NEVER FUCK UP YOUR CAR, BECAUSE WHEN I HAND YOU THE ROOM-MATE CHRONICLES, YOU WILL REALIZE THAT I’VE DONE WAY MORE DAMAGE TO YOU THEN A BASEBALL BAT TO A CAR WOULD EVER DO. THIS IS WHAT I THINK OF YOU. YOU ARE A FUCKING WASTE OF SPACE.

Metal on Metal

You’ve gotta love Facebook when it comes to learning ridiculous shit about people’s lives. M is no holds barred on FB and likes to tell everyone all of her problems in the most public of forums.

Her status today: “So who wants to install new rotors, pads, and bearings on my brakes? Will pay in cash and/or beer! I’m looking for it to be done in 2 weeks or so. I’m down to metal on metal and one rotor already seized, lol!”

That’s right. After she told everyone that her brakes are on the verge of failing, she laughed out fucking loud. That isn’t something to laugh about, you complete waste of a human being.


Update:

Oh god. She just sent me a text saying that her car has been keyed, scratched and dented while it was at the dealer today getting some sort of engine flush. I explained to her that it is rather unlikely that that much obviously intentional damage would be done at the dealership but she claims that it definitely happened there. Newsflash, they just happened to wash your car for the first time since you’ve had it and all of a sudden you notice all the nicks that the dirt used to cover up.

They also weren’t going to give her car back to her at the dealer because her brakes are so worn down that they claim it isn’t road safe. Wow, and M is NOTORIOUS for not leaving enough distance when she brakes ( I know, I thought she was notorious for flirting too, guess we were wrong!)

Anyway, she just got home and I asked her about the damage. She said that there are scratches all over it and that the key scratch goes all the way from the headlight to the tail light. Wow. No one noticed the onslaught of physical damage being done to her car? No one saw the 15 year old with the baseball bat in broad fuckin’ day light?

She has told me that she is going to do the brakes herself because she saw a video on Youtube that explained the procedure step by step. My god. I am going to set up a lawn chair and watch this shit happen. I think I could probably sell admission to this gong show.

Ok, I’m tired already but I gotta get this out there: This Friday there is going to be a fundraiser for S’s lacrosse team and M is in charge of organizing it. I know what you’re thinking, this girl couldn’t organize apples and oranges, how the fuck is she going to organize an entire fundraiser? Well, who gives a shit, I like watching her fail.

Anyway, awhile ago she told me that there was going to be an espresso machine for the silent auction and when I asked about that tonight she told me that she won’t be able to afford the machine now. Confused, I asked her, “What do you mean you can’t afford the machine? Isn’t Starbucks donating it?” Turns out that M was actually going to buy the thing herself and donate it. I couldn’t help it, I burst into laughter. To which she whipped out the snob, “Well if you don’t want to know the answer, why did you ask?” Oh I did want to know the answer! I just had no idea that the answer would be the belly laugh of the century. M, YOU ARE POOR. YOU CAN’T AFFORD TO DONATE ANYTHING BUT GARBAGE.

*Sorry for my slight hiatus, I was deathly ill but thankfully, I’ve pulled through.

Notorious

Awhile ago, when I inquired with M about designing the logo for "Thanks, Sherock", I asked if she had any examples of her work online. This is how, my friends, I got access to her new blog. Unfortunately she doesn’t talk about her personal life much, it is mostly just random musings about shit like fossil fuels and all in all, is very boring. I also don’t expect any juicy info about myself or her life because now she is aware that I know the link. Don’t worry though, you know that if anything worthy came up, you’d be the second to know!

Well, it was all totally boring until this new post where M claims she is a notorious flirt. Um, since when? I have never been privy to any of her flirting! She is insanely awkward and I guess her flirting must be what us normal folks call “polite conversation.” When you are notorious for something, that usually means people associate that with you or at the least, that you do it! What a retard.

She also wants everyone to know that she hates meeting guys and hates getting to know them. Why? Because all they want to do is bang her, duh! Jesus, is she serious? This may be true for the drunk and desperate guy who was already turned down eight times at the bar but definitely not true for anyone in a sober state!

I love reading her blogs and it is extremely unfortunate that I no longer have access to her personal one. It is so incredible to read what she thinks of her life because she lives in such a delusional state about herself.

Audit

Oh. My. God. M has been audited. How did I find this out? Oh, the way anyone would find out about someone’s monstrous financial woes – their Facebook status! Why on God’s green earth would you want to broadcast your shit storm of a life to everyone you know.

Here it is in all it’s glory:

“M has been audited in a bad way… and relatedly should really open mail sooner.”

Then, in response to someone’s “I hope it works out” words of encouragement, she says, “Uh no, it will not. They already assessed me. They say that I owe an additional $2000 for last year payable 2 months ago (I just opened it now) and I haven’t filed this year’s yet. And I owe medical money I think, I don’t know. It’s stupid, I can’t pay anyone so fuck it. Eff my life. No really, eff it.”

What does this mean for me, people? I don’t know anything about audits but I do know that when you owe the government money, they want it yesterday, now whenever you get around to it. I feel a word of pain coming on. Oh, Lordy.

Logo Lament

My friend and I are working on a new blog project! Yes, I know, it is very exciting and you should obviously visit us – Yep, that’s me plugging my new blog (and this shit is dead now, sorry for the broken pics.) Don’t worry, this isn’t just shameless self-promotion, it actually involves our beloved little ball of trash, M.

About two weeks ago, I asked M for help designing a logo – believe it or not, she is actually very talented with graphics and website design. She was extremely excited and happy about the idea and she said that she would love to do it. I asked for an estimated time frame and she said by this weekend (meaning last weekend). Now, does anyone think this has actually been done? Yeah, you can all say I told you so because this shit is stagnant. I asked her about three times for an updated time frame and she told me each time that she hasn’t been “inspired” yet. Um, I gave you clear fucking instructions. I didn’t know we asked you to paint the fuckin’ Sistine chapel, you slag.

Countless people were shocked and surprised that I even asked her. I held strong though and defended the fact that she was talented and that she would pull through. Well, I hereby declare that I was wrong.

Light Bulb

How many M’s does it take to change a light bulb?

Just one.

And me.

Sherlock

The other night, M came home and asked me if I had company earlier because the landlords saw a man in the backyard looking into their windows. Well, no, I did not have company, and if I did, I certainly hope he wouldn’t be peering into any windows. So, obviously there is someone casing the place and all my shit is going to be carted out by some ethnic minority in the next few days. This all relates, because M sent me a text message after she went up to pay our rent for the month and it said:

“The landlords said that the guy in the backyard was looking in the windows. Probably casing the place, so we should be setting the alarm all the time now.”

Um, no fucking shit, Sherlock. I have been setting the alarm on a regular basis and even more so now that I know there is a dude frolicking in the backyard fancy-free. It took someone else telling her in order for her to realize that a man in the backyard means amp up security? Fucking idiot. When my tv is stolen, I am personally punching her in the mouth because we all know they aren’t taking any of her worthless trash.

In other news, M came home with a new $70 belt as well as eye liner and lip gloss from Mac Cosmetics. It sure sounds like the bitch is rolling in it. Lucky girl! She did say that the belt was “a million percent off” and she used a gift card for it. Where the fuck is she getting all of these gift cards from? Is she like Meredith from The Office who does tricks for Steakhouse gift cards? Fuck for those mashed taters!

Death in the Family

M’s grandma passed away last night. It’s pretty sad, considering the fact that I actually particularly liked her. She made great chocolate cake.

That’s it. No jokes. Mourn her, bitches!

Her Room

M’s room is a complete disaster, not unlike herself. Every once in awhile when she’s not home, I will walk in there and just stand in one spot and let my eyes gaze upon the vast array of utter shit. I’ve seen messy rooms in my life time, and whenever I tell someone how much of a pigsty M’s room is, they always say, “Well, I don’t know, my room has been pretty messy!” No, friends, your room pales in comparison to this:





The pile of crap you see here does not just consist of clothes. Real garbage lies here. There are multiple shopping bags filled with actual garbage. As well as juice bottles, food wrappers, huge hair balls with tinfoil matted in them, many unopened credit card statements, four empty costco sized boxes of tampons, used make-up sponges, the list is never ending. The sponges used to be thrown in the garbage but because the two garbage cans she has are full, she just throws them onto the ground now.






The only way that you can get the full M’s room experience is by using one of those 360 things that realty sites use. Simple pictures just can’t make you feel the awe that I feel when I walk into that room. Oh, and she also keeps mementos from work. I guess a reassurance to herself that she has friends. It’s actually extremely bizarre – there was a coffee sleeve with a drawing on it resting on her bedside table as well as a note saying something like, “I won’t be in tomorrow, so have a great day!” from a co-worker on her bulletin board.

I actually sent the first photo to a friend of mine and told them that someone broke in and completely trashed the place. She believed me.

Before I go, here is a bonus shot. This is called a "money tree" and M bought it from Ikea to give her good luck. As you can see, the money tree has dried the fuck up:

Ketchup Situation

“How’s the ketchup situation? Do we need any?” M innocently asks via Blackberry Messenger. Well, if you read this blog, then you will surely know that the ketchup situation is absolutely dire and she has been using the contents of a family size ketchup bottle entirely as pasta sauce. Of course, I reply, “Yes, we do.”

When she got home, she put the new ketchup bottle in the fridge and notices the old ketchup bottle, which is empty and turned upside down (something she has done, you’d think that if you turned the ketchup bottle upside down yourself, you would have a mental note telling you that the ketchup is empty and you should purchase more.) She then exclaims, “Oh! We did need more ketchup!” Like I was fucking lying.

She also went to the doctor today to get back on her anemia drugs. She was off of them because she couldn’t afford to get them without medical coverage. Now that her health plan has kicked in at the ol’ Starbucks, she decided it was time to get health on again. Wrong. The doctors at the clinic closed early due to some sort of shortage of staff. Poor M, sick another day.

So Sad

Aww, it’s my birthday! We all went for dinner tonight, M included and I was hoping and expecting that it would be a gong show with tons of material for you to read but she barely did anything dumb!

This morning though, when I looked in the fridge, I noticed that there were two blocks of cheese that were both half used. I looked at them, thinking that perhaps they were different kinds but nope, they were both exactly the same. So, she went and bought the exact same cheese, then saw that other cheese in the fridge and didn’t realize that she was the one that bought it? So she used the new cheese. I asked her about this and she confirmed exactly what I thought – she had no recollection of buying the fucking cheese. Seriously, how can you be so goddamn vacant? Right after that she goes, “and is that your bottle of coke in the fridge?” No, no it isn’t.

She also admitted to me that her car costs her half of her net income every single month. So sad.

Soup Kitchen

This morning, I decided to wash the few dishes that were in M’s sink. I did this for a few reasons. Reason 1 being that I was totally bored and waiting for my ride to work because my car is still totally kaput until later this afternoon. Reason 2 being that she was nice enough to give me a lift when I was in need yesterday so I suppose I could do something nice in return. Finally, Reason 3 being that the dishes have been in the sink since last Friday, maybe earlier but I can be certain that they were there on Friday at the latest and it is nearly a week later now.

You see, M only does dishes when her sink has reached its full capacity. This was only a bowl, two cups, and a fork so there certainly isn’t any need to wash them within the next four years. I immediately regretted my decision when I pulled the fork out of the bowl to wash it and there was a long, sticky, wet substance with the consistency of egg whites just stringing from the bowl to the fork no matter how far I pulled it away. Fuckin nasty fermentation. Then I went to dry my hands and what was on the dish towel? Oh, just a dried up fucking Cheerio stuck to it. God, woman, we bought those when we moved in, over a year ago. They are fucking STALE. Stop eating them!

Later on, I asked her if she wanted to have lunch while I waited for my car but she declined because she already had a lunch date. Um, where? You have a dollar fucking forty – where the hell are you going for lunch? The soup kitchen?

I also found out that her and J went driving last night. She decided to go to her favourite destination – the beginning of the freeway. Yes, she drove 58 exits away just because! How she went there and back on half a tank of gas and only 1.40, we will probably never know. I bet she siphons gas while us regular folk are snug in our beds.

Thanks

Ok, thank the good lord above that M got her car back mere days ago because my own car had a lock malfunction and I couldn’t get in! She had to pick me up from work and drive me to the mechanics and then back and forth. I always harp on the negative so when she does do something good, I feel it is my duty to report it!

So good job, M. Thanks for being a pal!

Radio!

Holy shit. Get the fuck back in your house. Hide your children, lock up your pets, hide your potted plants, move your lawn gnome, park your car inside, jump out the damn way because our girl M is back on the roads and she’s comin’ for ya! Yep, you better believe it. I’m as shocked as you are that she came up with the funds and organized herself long enough to go to all the places she needed to be. First, she went to get her driver’s license back, which cost her about 500 bucks and then it was off to get her insurance…

Now, this is where it gets good. Just so that we all have a reference point, I have been driving for a few years now and have been completely accident and ticket free so far. My monthly insurance payment is $150. M went into the insurance place and was told that her insurance rate has risen 77% and that her monthly fee would be $540 – with no coverage. That, my friends, is $6500 a year and just shy of $18 a day. Essentially, she could take a cab to work every day and still be paying significantly less than she is paying to keep her car on the road.

The insurance agent explained to her that because she is a “new driver” on the road, her one accident is equivalent to a long term driver getting 6 accidents. Meaning, it would take the average joe 6 claimed accidents before they dropped down the 9 levels that M did when she decide to launch her shit into that Mercedes. What happens when M gets in another accident? And yes, that is WHEN, not if. Well, one more accident means that she will go from a +77% to +205% surcharge on the base insurance rate. Math is the opposite of my strong suit but with a little help from my friends, I’m pretty sure that means her insurance payment per month would be a nice $930.

Now that she is out on the road, she decided to have a little text conversation with B and she spat out some real gems like when B told her to “drive like a granny” she replied with, “I tried for a bit but then I got bored! Hehe, I am careful though. It took me a minute to feel comfortable driving – it was a weird feeling.”

Even more fun, “My wheels are making helicopter sounds. I think it is the brakes. They make noises when I step on them but they are working perfectly. I tested them. I think he just needs a good drive. It’s all just noise and you know the fix for that? Radio!"

When she got home tonight, she informed me that has $1.40 left in her account and that it has to last her until pay day this Friday. It’s Monday, in case you didn’t know. Oh, and she only has half a tank of gas and Wednesday is her day off so you can guarantee there will be a driving adventure of epic proportions.

Declined.

Earlier this week, M asked B if she would meet her for coffee to “talk about something.” Oh, I know, this sounds juicier than a Costco pack of fuckin’ Juicy Fruit and I’m all over it. As soon as I heard about this, I pushed my way into this coffee date faster than a cockroach when the sun comes up. Unfortunately, and likely due to my presence, nothing of interest was discussed but I am certain that when it happens, I will get all of the torrid details from our girl on the inside, B.

It is important to mention that M bought everyone’s drinks/food at Starbucks because she gets a discount and it is a whole lot easier than us pooling our money together and calculating how much this, that, and the other thing is. Why is this important? Well, after Starbucks, we went to the insurance centre so that M could pay off everything she needs to in order to get her car on Monday. Can you feel it coming? Yes, it certainly is a shame that her debit card got DECLINED due to insufficient funds!

When we got home, she immediately checked her online banking to see her balance. Much to her dismay, and my utter glee, she realized that she was only FOUR DOLLARS short and that if she hadn’t bought those beverages at Starbucks, she’d be sitting pretty.

And that, folks, is why you don’t eat other people’s ketchup. Karma is a mean old bitch.

Gayboy

I got the pleasure of hearing a story from M’s day at Starbucks. Lucky me, and lucky you!

Apparently, a homeless man came in and stole a chocolate bar, then told her to give him all the money in the register in a semi-joking way, and finally, he went out and punched a customer directly in the face. If things had gone slightly differently, M could have been the one punched in the face. Ah, but that’s the way life goes.

Anyway, this story prompted a discussion between us about the amount of people who use the Starbucks washroom in order to do drugs. She said that they have the phone number of a company that will come and pick up the needles if the employees don’t feel comfortable doing so. I say, “Well, obviously you don’t want to pick them up with your bare hands.”

M remarks, “Yeah! Gayboy did that once and I got so mad at him!” (Ok, she called him his real name.)

Of course, I heartlessly respond, “Yeah but he’s probably already got AIDS so he’s fearless!”

To which she scolds me, “You shouldn’t talk about my future husband that way!”

“Um, M. He’s gay.”

“Yeah, but I can turn him straight!”

Wow. I think she is actually in love with him and now she is just tortured by the fact that the dude likes dudes. The girl can’t even turn straight guys straight, I don’t know how she thinks she is going to manage this one.

Oh, and yes, I know my comment was offensive. That’s how I roll. If I can’t see the line from here, I’m pretty sure that means there isn’t one.

Dishes Misses

I came home for lunch only to find that the cupboard that houses our glasses was completely empty. I look at the sink and see that it is, you guessed it, full of glasses. Now, the way that we organize the dishes is as such: there are two sinks, so each of us places our dirty dishes in “our own” sink and then we wash them at our leisure (multiple times a day for me, and once a week for M). So whose sink was full of cups? You guessed it! M’s!

I was so furious about all ten of our glasses being used by one human being and then never washed that I took a picture of the empty cupboard and then I took a picture of her full sink. I sent both of them to her phone without an explanation. I felt that the two photos definitely spoke for themselves.

She responded with, “Ya, I’ve been getting home late from work and I didn’t want to wake you by doing the dishes. I am home tonight around 8:30 though, so I was gonna do them then.”

Ahh, my point was made and very effectively, if I do say so myself. Fear my wrath, bitches!

Note: Yes, it sounds like she was being considerate, but keep in mind that she could have gotten up 10 minutes earlier in order to wash the dishes on ANY of the days this week but she is too lazy to do that. Also, the sink and my room are on literally opposite sides of the house.

My Hair is Retarded

I get an e-mail from M:

“Maybe you would know. Ok, I tried to touch up my roots a dark brown colour last night but it did nothing. If anything, my hair is lighter than before. Like, it took off the previous dye or something. Why would that happen? And what kind of dye should I buy?
My hair is retarded. It went back to normal colour. It is really soft though! Lol, so I have to fix it asap. I will try it again tonight and it on double time or something.”

Oh, that sounds fun! I can’t wait for this disaster in the making.

Homeless Hit

M got hit on by a homeless man today. He asked for her phone number. I find this particularly odd because I’m wondering how he would call her. From a payphone?

B told me that M confided in her about having, “a lot of guys on the go”. Perhaps she is including the homeless population of our dear city.

Shit Storm

I stayed home from work today and B came over. M got up at 4pm and went straight in for a shower. I asked her if she worked today and she said no but there is a work party today. An ice skating party! Oh man, I wish I could watch that shit storm happen.

Drown

Before I get into the point of this post, I should mention that from time to time, M brings me a pound of coffee beans home. She does this because, a. I ask and b. she gets a pound free every week. Now, she could be getting the coffee for herself, and she does from time to time, but let’s be realistic: when you work at Starbucks 5 days a week, the amount of coffee you need at home is pretty minimal. In fact, she has only made coffee at home twice since she started working there, and before she started, she never once made it. Despite this, she always makes a huge deal about her getting me the free coffee. She’s always making me wait weeks even though she isn’t taking anything for herself and always commenting that I can do this-and-that as a fee for the goods.

Now, yesterday, I gave her an Ipod. Ok, why the hell did I do that? Well, I have three, and this was a first generation 1 gig Ipod Nano, so it wasn’t much of a loss for me and she does take the bus on a daily basis. Now, the real point of the post today is…

Tickets for a band that we all like go on sale on . I sent her a text message and asked her if she could bring me a certain type of coffee whenever she gets the chance. She responds with something like, “Sure! And as a payment for the coffee, you can buy me the ticket for the show and I will pay you back on payday.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa! As payment? The shit is fucking free, asshole. AND, on top of that, I gave you an IPOD. Kiss my ass, you parasitic bitch, and drown in your free goddamn coffee.

Oh, and on top of that – she told me that she would drive to the concert because she will have her car back by then. She said she can “take herself plus four people.” The concert is in 3 months, buddy. I don’t think we need to arrange our rides tonight!

Spazz.

Well, M didn’t come home last night! I guess her birthday party ended up being quite the gong show, since even if she has to drive drunk, she usually stops at nothing to get home!

She was home later this afternoon though, when I came home with my super sweet gigantic LCD TV! Oh yeah, I’m awesome. Anyway, I asked her to help me move it back slightly on the stand and when we moved it, the picture went to static. She immediately threw her arms in the air and kept repeating, “Oh my god! I didn’t touch anything! Oh my god!” Fucking relax. She wouldn’t stop for like 2 solid minutes. Of course, I fixed it and all was well but seriously… what a spazz.

Craigslist!

The day has come for me to NOT attend M’s big birthday bash! Me and a whole lot of other people, actually. Turns out that only 4 people that M actually knows are going. The people attending that she knows are: S, the love of her life. J, S’s sister and M’s BFF. Jenni (actually, she is B’s friend and she is only going because B was going to go, but B is deathly ill and canceled. Jenni doesn’t want to go but doesn’t want to look like an asshole.) And then lastly is the bitch that used my shower that one time and her slut cousin.

As she was getting ready, she casually mentioned that her and Tyler were having an argument and that he wasn’t going to be going. Who is Tyler, you ask? Oh, Tyler is her semi-boyfriend. I haven’t mentioned him because I didn’t even know she was still talking to him until she mentioned him tonight. M has a bf? How is that possible? Craigslist!

Yes, friends. M met her bf on the Craigslist personals. Awhile ago, B was over and we were chatting/watching tv/whatever when M was standing there texting and giggling on her phone. Annoyed, we ask who the fuck she is talking to and why she is laughing. This is a huge pet peeve of mine with her (ok what doesn’t annoy me?). She will often be giggling while going back and forth on her phone but whenever you ask her about it, she immediately goes, “Nothing! Nevermind!” Dude. If you didn’t want me to ask, you wouldn’t be rolling on the ground like a fucking mental patient every time you receive a goddamn text message.

Ok, back to the point of all this: finally, M tells us that she is talking to a guy she met. B, always extremely nosey inquisitive, pries some information from her. According to her, his name is Tyler, he is in his 20s, and she met him at Starbucks. She said that they talked for half an hour while she cleaned and they ended up exchanging phone numbers. B continued to ask things like, does he have a job/car/house/std and she failed to have the answers to any of these VERY important questions.

Now, through my own digging – and I won’t explain how, because I sound like even more of an asshole than I already do – I ended up finding out that they actually met in the personals section of Craigslist. He is 24, Spanish, and 5’6”. Hawt.

Oh, and I saw M before she headed out and I just can’t help but mention that her ass cheeks were hanging out the bottom of her way-too-short dress.

Razzle-Dazzle

Today, B and I decided to head to the mall after work and do a little shopping. Lucky for us, M just happened to be there tossing more of our rent money into the wind. When we saw her, she had a something in a make-shift garment bag. Naturally, we asked what the hell she bought. It turns out that she bought her birthday dress (for the club-outing on Saturday) and it is quite the number! It is an extremely short black dress with a lot of razzle-dazzle to it. My first question, being the Debbie downer that I am, was of course, “How much was it?” And, true to form, M responds with, ‘I don’t know, it was like a million percent on sale!” Oh, well it must have been a bargain then!

Unfortunately, because we happened to find her at the mall, we were stuck with her the rest of our trip. We passed Le Chateau and M mentions that she’s totally going to return this shirt she bought last week and use the money to buy some more shoes. I know, you’re wondering, as I was, “didn’t M buy two new pairs of shoes just DAYS ago? Why, yes, she did! I certainly can’t let that go, so I ask her just that. “Well, yes, I did buy new shoes but I can’t walk or dance in the purple ones.” B pipes in, “You can’t walk in the green ones you wore last week either.” Great. At least 100 bucks, or 1/5 of her half of the rent, shat away on shoes she will never fucking wear.

We grabbed something to eat in the food court and sat down for some lovely dinner convo – M constantly and relentlessly attacking us with stories from Starbucks that, and I know I’ve said this before, I DON’T FUCKING CARE ABOUT. M has a new best friend that works with her at Starbucks! For the sake of the blog, we will call him Gayboy, because he is, in fact, uber gay. Now, I don’t have a problem with people being gay, but I am also not a fag hag, or someone who simply MUST and intentionally surround themselves with gay people. That shit is an epidemic and I don’t understand it.

M is so clearly in love with Gayboy that she goes into these various stories about their at-work escapades. She tirelessly tells us about all the absolutely hilarious things that Gayboy has done this week. The only problem is, the shit isn’t funny. And she wouldn’t find it funny either, if it wasn’t for the fact that buddy is gay. For example: A good looking male customer comes in and, through idle chit chat, they discover that he is a photographer. After he leaves, Gayboy turns around to M and says, “He can take my picture any time!” This would only be barely funny if it was in a 1992 Hugh Fucking Grant movie.

Note: being gay/black/old/young/white/brown/pink/handicapped/etc does not make you funny. You’re either blessed with the shit (ie. Me) or you aren’t. Just because you’re saying it with a lisp… god. You get the point.

Ok, I deleted everything in my inbox so it has room for you all to e-mail me and tell me how much of a racist, sexist, homophobic, asshole I am.

Happy Barfday

Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear M! Happy Birthday to you! Ah, another lovely, fun-filled year of existence for our dear pal. I actually forgot to say Happy Birthday to her this morning when I saw her, oops! I shot her a text message later in the day. Believe it or not, I even bought her a present! Ok, so I bought her a Christmas present, but when she was too poor to buy me one in return, I decided to save it for her birthday. Yeah, ok, I’m a bitch. Whatever.

I wasn’t planning on going to any sort of birthday dinner but there was one organized very last minute with J, M, B and I as the attendees. J forbid anyone else from going because she wanted it to be a “girl’s dinner” and then she ended up calling about 10 minutes before we were leaving and told us she was puking and couldn’t make it. Actually, she was puUuUUuuUking. You know what that means, Me, B, and M together for dinner. Wow. Awkward convo to ensue!

Before we leave, M put on a very nice pashmina scarf. Making small talk, I asked her where she got it. “Oh, S picked it out.” Ahem – does that in any fucking way answer my question? She is so in love with him that she must, at any moment and without reason, throw his name into the conversation. I responded, “Um, I said, WHERE did you get it.” “Oh, when S and I went shopping, he picked it out at Le Chateau – of course it was the most expensive one!” She had to get it though, since S commented that he liked it. I’m rolling my eyes so hard right now, my brain thinks I’m doing a fucking handstand.

On the drive there, B reminds M and informs me that last week, M made this statement: “My car is good in the snow.” Um, wait… she has never driven in the snow. She had her car for ONE snow-less month and she claims it’s great in the snow. Well, yes, I guess it is – since it is completely fucking stationary. Allow her to explain, “Well, I was thinking of my car like it was S’s car because his car is very good in the snow.” I made sure she knew that S’s car is a VR6, Automatic, and that the driver definitely plays a large part in how well a car drives in the snow.

At dinner, B and I made sure to sit next to each other so as to chat candidly on our Blackberrys about the night’s events as they go down. It was time to open the present I got her - a super awesome Guess wallet (I actually have the same one in a different colour, so be sure I didn’t get her like, a shit one because I hate her.) She spent a good chunk of the dinner putting all of her cards and lack of dollars into the new wallet, which was a good way to alleviate the staring at each other while not saying anything moments.

She pulled out Eric’s card, he is the guy who does all of the work on her car and sees pure dollar signs when she rolls up. Yeah, the one that sold her a car that can’t be registered, the one that charged her $1700 to fix the motor for her power window, the one who… you get it. The guy is a dick and he is so clearly using her because she is clueless. Anyway, she goes, “I’m definitely keeping this card.” To which I said, “Don’t you just have his number in your phone, why do you need to keep it?” She says, “To give it to other people, of course!” …

I said, “Excuse me? Why would do that? The guy is a con-artist, leaching you dry of every cent you own.”

“Well, S talked to him and now everything is fine.”

“What? S ‘talked’ to him? What did he say?”

“I don’t know. He talked to him and now everything is fine between us. Everything got sorted out.”

“So… S bitched him out?”

“I don’t know but he was very upset with Eric, so probably.”

Let me make sure that I’m clear about something: this is not in S’s character AT ALL so this story just seemed extremely bizarre to me. Of course, I asked S and he confirmed my suspicion that no, he did not call and get mad at the mechanic. He said that he got mad at M, if anything.

I understand that some people love their job more than anything in the world and that is just fine and dandy but this is a message to them: WE DON’T FUCKING CARE. M loves working at Starbucks. How do I know this?? Oh, only because this is the sole topic of the entire goddamn night. Starbucks this, my gay co-worker that, the new tea-latte this, the we-ran-out-of-soy epidemic of last week. I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD THAT STARTS WITH STAR OR ENDS IN BUCKS. It’s to the point where you’re starting to think that you may have found hell just by listening to her ramble on and on. It’s like Chinese water torture but with M’s voice replacing the drip-drip-drip.

We ended off the dinner by taking pictures of her and going back and forth between them pretending she was moving in some sort of twisted geriatric rain-dance. Oh, and she paid for her own dinner. Happy Birthday!

Muahaha

I am giggling maniacally!! Earlier today, I was looking in the fridge and I noticed that I had this container of cheddar cheese. It’s like, in the form of parmesan cheese but it is cheddar. Anyway, I hadn’t used it in literally over a year but it was one of those things that is just so small and harmless in the door of the fridge that you pretty much never throw it away. Today though, I decided to chuck it. I looked at the expiry date before I threw it away – you know, just in case it was still good – and it had expired last January. Safe to say that that should be disposed of immediately! So in the garbage it went.

Now, I just went into the fridge again and noticed that M must have made her pasta last night, using my ketchup as sauce of course. She usually puts MY parmesan cheese on top but since she used the entire container and has not replenished the stock, she looked for another type of cheese to put on top! Yep, M used the one year old expired cheddar on her pasta. That’s what you get for using my shit, mofo! And may your stomach churn all night.

Purple Pumps

She came home with new shoes last night. She always tries to avoid telling people what everything costs because she knows that we are all secretly going, “Oh my god, don’t you have rent to pay?” Whenever I casually ask, “Ohhh, how much were they?” she always replies with, “like 3 dollars!” Right-o. Anyway, these things were sky-freakin-high and HIDEOUS. She bought two pairs because it was buy one, get one half off – who can resist?

One was a pair of big purple pumps and the other, shiny green fish-scale looking pumps. They are about 5 inch heels and she walked around in them in the house to try and break them in. I guess it didn’t work because she went out tonight and B sent me a message telling me that she was walking like she was in severe pain. She described M’s movements as similar to her first time on a trampoline – limbs stiff and flailing.

Sigh

So, Starbucks shorted M a week of her pay again. I’m pretty sure this means that we’re going to be homeless. Wish me luck, people.

Citibank

Oh, M went to Citibank to pay her loan today because it bounced when they tried to take it from her account – big surprise there. This place is literally a 5 minute bus ride from our house, it’s about 4 major streets away, yet M managed to get lost. For over an hour. She said she was walking around but that, “when you’re not driving, you are looking at things from such a different perspective!” Seriously, those words were spoken.

Anyway, she called Citibank and the nice lady actually directed her to their door step via telephone. When she got there, she realized that the lady was actually the same lady that gave her the loan in the first place (yes, she has been to this location before, and still got lost!) and the lady asks, “You were walking?” To which, of course, M says, “Yes.” Then, puzzled, she asks M, “But… didn’t we give you this money to buy a car?”

Yeeeeaahhhh, about that… awkward!

Nope.

Poor little M walked home in all that snow outside. She walked in all dripping with sweat and condensation and told me that she fell countless times and people almost ran her over, etc etc. I have to be honest, I stopped listening to her when she talks to me a LONG time ago so any story that she tells me is the first five words followed by blah blah blah.

I did notice that she brought home groceries though! Hmm, what do we have here in these bags? Pasta? Check! Salad Dressing? Check! Ketchup to replace the giant bottle that she has used of mine? Nope! You fuckin bitch. She’s used pretty much all of my ketchup and my parmesan cheese has about 3 specs left in it. AGHHHHHH!!!!!

I will say something… sometime. But right now I feel she may be on the verge of suicide, so I want to tread lightly.

I caved

What is wrong with this picture? M wakes up at 1:30pm and has to be at work for 2:45pm. She has 1 hour and 15 minutes to eat, shower, do her hair, do her make up, get dressed, and walk to work. This is not possible for M because she is a very slow and lethargic human being, not to mention that the walk to work itself is nearly an hour long.

So, if this time frame is impossible, how does she plan to get to work on time? Oh, that’s right, it is Sunday and I’m not working so obviously I will end up being her fucking chauffeur. She asks me at 2pm if I would like, “a free coffee at 2:30 in exchange for a ride.” Do I have a choice? Ok, sort of – but then what would she do? Be late and get fired? Take a cab there for 15 dollars? I mean, it is hardly a choice, I would just be an asshole if I said no.

What pisses me off the most about the situation is that she simply assumed I would be able and willing to drive her. If she had gotten up in time to do everything and walk there, I probably would have offered to give her a lift since I wasn’t doing much. Instead, she gets up late and simply assumes my ass will drive her there.

Well, she was right, I caved and I drove her. And I didn’t even take a free fucking coffee.

Mishaps

M has decided to get a payday loan so that her car payment doesn’t bounce! Now, I’m not 100% familiar with how these work but I’m pretty sure that you take your pay stub into the loan place and they give you a percentage of what you earn in a pay period. So, M’s cheque was only half of what she should have earned, and this means that M will come out of there with a whopping, oh I don’t know, hundred dollars? She’s ballin’!

So I took her down to her old Starbucks to get her pay stub but I mostly just wanted to buy some practically free mugs as presents and I needed her there to get that fat discount. B told me that M had actually already taken the bus to that Starbucks twice that day to get her pay stub but she forgot each time after she got gabbing to her old co-workers. Really? Twice? Don’t you walk out thinking, “There was something I was supposed to do…?”

We also went to cancel her car insurance because there is no way that her eight dollar payday loan will cover her car payment and her car insurance. She figured she could just cancel and be done with it but of course, there are fees that go along with canceling one’s insurance and so now she owes another two hundred to ICBC. Ch-ching! Now that she has canceled, and because her insurance has bounced before, M is no longer eligible to make monthly payments. She has to pay one lump sum (her insurance is now over 3 grand for a year due to her mishaps) for the entire year up front.

Another tid-bit of information before I bid you farewell: M used to have a blog. She actually had it all through high school and up until about last year. Now, my big mouth told someone who has a big mouth (B) and somehow the word spread to EVERYONE and so she took the blog down. I gotta say, it is a big, big shame that we don’t have M’s point of view on her life anymore, because it was priceless and much less accurate than my depiction.

Drama-rama!

The drama never ends, folks! Apparently, Starbucks has short-paid M by about half of her pay cheque and that means that she can’t afford to pay her car loan that comes out in a few days! They said that it was just a mix up and that they would add the balance that she is owed to her next cheque. Oh good, that’s the rent money!

I suggested that she just call CitiBank and try explaining the situation to them and that they might have a sympathetic ear and give her a few more days. She said that she read reviews about them online and apparently if you are a day late, they come repo your shit faster than you can say, “M’s a disaster.”

Hmm, I wonder what will happen when they come and collect everything only to realize that her shit does not equal even close to the amount she claimed it equals? Oh my god, do they repo my shit? How would they know? I will go postal on that bitch if my stuff is touched.

There's a problem.

Even when she’s not home, she still manages to drive me up the wall.

It never fails. When M cooks, the pots boil over – every time. I know this, because there is always a mess around the heating elements of the stove. I also know this because I am the person who always cleans them. As if you needed another reason, I also know this because when I turn the stove on, it always smells like the burning pasta she has dropped into the element.

Well, tonight, I decided to make myself a lovely dinner. Oddly enough, I started to smell burning. I lift up the pot I was using and notice pieces of spaghetti in the element slowly turning black. Isn’t that just grand! Then I see SMOKE billowing out of every other element on the stove. I frantically start pulling the elements that I wasn’t using out and peer inside to see if there is a fire. Nothing that I could tell, but the smoke was still coming. So with oven mitts on, I took out the element I was using and underneath was what I imagine hell looks like. Charred and black. What the hell IS it?

Guess who cleaned the shit up? You got it, ding ding! Me. I scrubbed for ages and it is still completely black. She’ll come home and not even realize anything has happened. That is until I bitch her out.

Oh, and if you are going to use ketchup as pasta sauce… BUY YOUR OWN FUCKING HEINZ, BITCH!

Damn

My old landlords e-mailed me to let me know that they have rented the suite to someone else. I actually e-mailed them last night and told them I was very interested but I just wanted to come by and look at it. Too late. I should have jumped on that shit while I could.

This is a dark day.

No More!

I picked M up from work today. She got off at the same time as me and it is only slightly out of my way, so I figured I should probably be nice to her if I’m going to bail on her and move to a new place. I know what you’re thinking! Well, two things: 1 - I have the ability to be nice? And 2 – No more roommate chronicles? Yeah, well, is my pain really worth your amusement? There comes a time when you just have to say, “no more!”

She really is so tiring to talk to. The drive home from her work is less than ten minutes, yet we still managed to have multiple awkward silences.

No Plan

B and I went to breakfast this morning but this time, J tagged along. She came into the restaurant fuming angry and sat down, “Did M go to work today?” To which I replied, “Um, well, I’m pretty sure she is still sleeping, so, no.”

“Well, She didn’t go yesterday either. She didn’t even call in. They called her and woke her up! She said she was sick and now she didn’t go today either!”

Uh ohs! I both love and hate it when shit like this happens. Wait a second, can you hear that? An adventure is just around the corner! J demands that we go to Starbucks and check if M is there. I’m always up for rubbing M’s mistakes in her face, so hell yes I’m up for it! We went, and of course, M is not there. We asked if M was in today and the lady told us that she wasn’t. B, always one to tip-toe around an awkward situation goes, “Yeah but she was supposed to show up, right?” Yes, friends, she was.

Well, that wasn’t enough for J. Nope, she wanted to go to my house and bitch M out. My pleasure! Off we go, J barges into M’s room and sits on her bed to give her a nice long lecture. J asked her why she didn’t go to work today and she said that she “didn’t have a plan” that would excuse her from missing work yesterday. Um, so she just didn’t go two days in a row? Now her “plan” has to be a little grander, dontcha think? JESUS.

So the hunt is on! For another place to live, I mean. I asked J nonchalantly if her and M were planning on moving in together – acting like it was common knowledge that they were. She told me that there was no way it was happening until June at the earliest – if ever.

You see, the landlords that used to own the house that I live in have contacted me and invited me to move into their new suite. I told them that I would prefer to live alone and they offered to knock a few hundred dollars off of the rent so that I could afford to do it. This is a pretty huge step and I definitely need to do some serious thinking about it! I mean, as bad as I would feel for leaving her high and dry, let us be frank, she brought this shit storm down on herself.

Oh yeah, and M got her hair done this weekend. She got it done at a spa and it cost over $200 for a cut and colour job. Why did she go there when it is so expensive? Oh, they’re the only people that can cut her bangs right.

Yep.

Woe is Me

I woke up at 4am this morning feeling a little parched so I ventured into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Much to my surprise, M’s door was open and she wasn’t home! Now, she was off at 11:30pm and according to my calculations, would have been home about 45 minutes to an hour later. I felt a glimmer of hope flash inside of me when I realized that she may have been kidnapped on her long walk home but that was all dashed when I woke up at 7am and saw her door closed.

I guess she made it home. Woe is me.

A Single Tear

Today, M starts at her new Starbucks location. She worked at the first one for a month, and now she has to go to this location for a month because there are no places she can go permanently yet. This is one of the locations that we visited yesterday in our world tour of Starbucks. Yes, she awkwardly introduced herself and told everyone she would be starting tomorrow. They all probably shed a single tear in anticipation.

She is dreading working there because the place has a bad rep for stealing. Oh, and there is no bus that goes there so she has to walk. The walk is about 45 minutes and you bet your buns there will be snow and rain! Hehehe, I love it!

Update: M told me that she cried for a long time at work today. In front of everyone. She said that “everything is just so different, they want me to do everything differently!” Who does that!? Great first impression.

Eight Shot Americano

Today, M served a purpose! I wanted to get an espresso machine, and with her 40% discount and the machines being on sale, there wasn’t going to be a better time. We got up nice and early and the three of us (B, M and I) went to the Starbucks she has worked at for the last month. She insisted that we go there, and not to the one just down the street, because she had made bonds there and wants to help them improve their merchandise sales.

Well, two things. One, they acted like they barely knew her. Two, we waited for over a fucking HOUR to get the shit I wanted and then they didn’t even have the grinder! It was ridiculous. They kept forgetting about us. Clearly she has no pull when it comes to getting service - perhaps this stems from the fact that they probably find her annoying and wonder why the hell she keeps coming back to that store even though she lives 20 minutes away.

So, did you ever get that grinder you wanted, SS? Ah, yes I did! After going to FOUR different Starbucks stores, we finally found one that had it. That is ABSURD, Starbucks. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Anyway, naturally, M got a drink at 3 of the 4 stores that we went to. She got a latte, a 4 shot Americano and then an 8 shot Americano. And she is still supposed to go out with her bff J later! Oh, and at one of the Starbucks stores we went to, a Chapters was attached, so she had to go buy a $15 VW magazine. YOU ARE POOR! STOP BUYING THINGS!

At some point during the day, she asked me if I would go to her mom’s place so that she can pick up some money that her mom owes her. I asked where she lives and she gave me a landmark in the area, “just park by that building.” She refused to tell us where her mom lives. I asked her who the fuck she thinks we are going to tell, the feds? No one gives a shit where your mom is and she is doing a shitty fuckin’ job hiding from the government when she is getting her mail delivered to the house she’s renting. M said that she is supposed to tell everyone that her mom is in Toronto. Right. I guess she figures that when the FBI comes to interrogate and torture us for that valuable information about her slag of a mom, we won’t have anything to give up. Anyway, when she got back in the car, she tried to tell us a story about her stupid fucking cat, to which I yelled “BORING” and so she stopped. Then I asked her to continue with the story, but I yelled “BORING” again and so she refused. Thank fuckin’ god.

Oh, and on the drive to one of the stores, B told M that she should really start her car up, since it has been sitting for a month. M told her that she isn’t going to bother because it is going to be all “broken and shitty” anyway and she is just going to sell it. B asked her why and she said that selling it will be easier than starting it. This is a real human being, folks. She really exists. I can’t believe it myself sometimes.

Dipstick

So, since there has really been no news to report as of late, I was trying to think of something to write when it dawned on me that I didn’t even explain how she broke the dipstick like a month ago! If you don’t recall this event, M texted S and asked him if it is ok to drive without a dipstick because she broke hers. I couldn’t figure out how she snapped the dipstick because it seems pretty damn difficult unless you are doing it intentionally, but awhile ago, she explained the whole thing to me.

It turns out that she was going to go for a trip to the big city and she thought that she ought to check her oil first. So she tries to pull the dipstick out but it doesn’t budge. She pulled as hard as she could. Then she anchored her foot against the car and pulled even harder. Eventually, the entire thing that the top of the dipstick screws into, broke off. I asked her, “Did you try turning it first?” No, she didn’t. So the entire casing just snapped off with the dipstick still screwed into it.

She took the car to her “mechanic” and to the VW dealership and both of them basically told her, “Um, those don’t break.” And “Yeeeaaah, we don’t sell those.” So, she just drives with the dipstick sort of resting in place. Oil gets all over the engine and the hood of the car but oh well, it is stationary for the next 4 months!