Lately, I’ve been a little pissed off at people. I’m not going into details here, but you know you can only get walked all over and made foolish so many times until you snap. But last night at 5 am, when I got home from hanging with my NEW best friends. I walk into the first of what may be many many many reasons for not liking my new roommate.
No matter where I move to and this must be like the 5th time since I got to LA, I always fight with my roommates. Now I don’t know if it’s just me or them. But I tend to really get testy with who I’m living with. Little ass things drive me up the wall. Whether it’s the stupid music they play, them clearing their nostrils every morning at 8 am on the dot, or eating my fancy mustard and peanut butter. I know I know that one time I shouldn’t have drank all my roommates J and B. But when you’re unemployed, you’ll drink anything in the house that’s not watered down.
So, I’ll get back to the point of this blog. I come home, like I said it was 5 am, and I was beat, so beat, only to find my roommate and some guy sitting on the floor playing Jenga. To most of you this is pretty awesome, but I’m a little suspicious, as weird as I am, this is pretty weird. This guy who barely speaks English looks at me like I’m some kind of intruder, quiet and glaring. She points out they taped off the floor to make it like a court and they were playing with a beach ball, volleyball or something. Now, it’s 5 in the morning I had just come from watching “The Burbs” for like the 1,000th time in my life and I really didn’t want to process what this indoor beach ball thing meant. Was it an analogy for some kind of weird sex game? Did they really play volleyball? Or are they just lunatics. Good thing there’s a lock on my door. Can you imagine? Not that I have all this valuable stuff but I don’t want some strange Yugoslavian turning my room into a tennis court.
My roommate asks me about my work and then we talk about how she got cable without asking me, I mean that’s okay sure, I want internet, not sure I want tv again though but alright. Then they mention their favorite shows.
And the strange Yugoslavian says he loves Ellen. ELLEN!!!!! WHAT? How can you tolerate that lame ass show? It’s lame and every time I hear about how cool her dancing is I wanna throw stuff. I mean is that all she does? Dance around like an idiot? Sorry I don’t really find her funny, that’s just me. But they both love American Idol and here we go again with another one of my thought rants. Whatever, so I tell them about this show I’m working on and I don’t know but my roomie gives me the ol’ “dude I’m too drunk to listen to you” thing. Like sorry, you asked, I mean okay I mean well yeah I mean geez. Anyways I don’t remember where I was going with this, but I can see we’re going to have television problems here and……ooooh, I just remembered a crazy part of this story.
So she’s all proud of the indoor court they made and her and this guy are saying we don’t really need furniture, that this court should always be there, and the scary Yugoslavian is actually serious, he doesn’t want any furniture, so he can play beach volleyball. Wow, buddy I mean I don’t want to argue cause you’ll probably stab me, but I mean I kinda live here. I’m not just hanging around playing Jenga at 5 in the morning gushing about Ellen. She agrees with him, she thinks it’s a good idea, I try to argue with her, cause I can and she doesn’t scare me as much as the dude. But it’s no use, she sounds pretty serious about this court thing. Then she says, she’ll feel differently in the morning cause she’s drunk. Okay wow, at this point, I’m heading in my room, blasting Fawlty Towers, finishing my grape soda and hopefully won’t hear them having sex. GOOD NIGHT!!
Author: Abes Mcplenty
