I Live with the Dead
Horrible work day. At 5:20, I get asked to find stuff that doesn't exist; not finding it takes me 3 hours. The torrential downpour awaiting my commute home placed me in a rather... raw... mod. Arriving in my apartment, I find my two languid roommates (well my roommate and his live-in girlfriend) splayed across my couch visiting beaches vicariously through others on the travel channel, with two pizza boxes in front of them. I clean up after them, afterwards saying "Thanks for getting pizza, It's nasty out. What do I owe?" Being a communal food arrangement, this was not an unreasonable assumption to make. However, girlfriend perks up, and slurs
Oh, there's no pizza left. He had one and I had one.
Now, please understand, I'm always one to appreciate a girl who can chow down. Just... not at my expense, unless I'm sleeping with her. And even then it's contentious. So I feel my reaction was quite justified, in pausing for a moment of shock, then exclaiming
You hulking fatasses!!! He, I already call a fatass all the time... but it's officially BOTH of you!Now, girlfriend takes a bit of offense to this, raising lazily up on elbows and extolling herself as being not, in fact, a fatass, because even though it wasn't a small, it was a 'thin-crust pizza.' Roommate is oblivious to the conversation, being too absorbed in a Geiko auto insurance ad. Aware of the opportunity to test my roommates for a pulse, I decide to press hideously on for shock value to see what reactions I can get, partly because it's raining and partly because I'm bored.
Dinner was fucked up last night too. What's up, are you on the rag?
Ewww that's so inappropriate!!! Hit him...! Get up, go hit him!
Roommate glances at girlfriend kicking his arm, says 'oh boy,' and settles back into being entralled by the shapes of the craftsmatic adjustable bed, with a free 25" television if he calls now. And this couple is moving out on July 1st to cohabitate alone? I hope the neighbors don't mind the stink of decomposing flesh.
postscript: When I ask why they are watching such Travel Channel garbage, she replies "Ian is picking out our honeymoon spot." Later, I'll clean up the vomit over where I was standing at the time. Right now I have to blog or I'll end up slapping him in the face until his eyes lose the glassy stupor.
4 Comments:
I just vomited. Honeymoon?
Have you ever wondered whether you have an anger problem? There's a lot of medication out there that wouldn't shrink your penis.
Sounds to me like the pizza got there and you didn't know about it - so how exactly was it "at your expense" if you weren't even there to pay for it.
You are obviously deluded.
Well, if you are familiar with me in the least, you know that when I gripe about being "at my expense," I don't mean monetarily, since that is never an issue I raise with anyone except the occasional freeloader, but rather "at my expense" meaning "they ate it all and I didn't get any." Tradgedy of the Commons economic theory stuff. But you obviously do not know me, or you would not have tried pointing out that I am deluded. Of COURSE I'm deluded, everyone knows that. I mean, who besides the unfit-to-stand-trial would open their home to a fluttering, squawking harpy?
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