Tag Archives: roommates

4 strangers, picked to live in a house, and hate each other

Did anyone watch the season premiere of The Real World St. Thomas last night? When I finished watching last season I decided that I was too old to watch anymore and wouldn’t be partaking in the next season, but when I started to see the previews I couldn’t resist, and so far it hasn’t disappointed. 

I won’t ruin it for anyone who is hoping to catch a repeat, but I’ll just say I am rooting for Trey and Laura to get together and make babies.  That’s the same thing I said about Dustin and Heather last season, and he ended up being a gay porn star..so it should be interesting.

Anyway, my apartment has started to turn into a Real World house of it’s own.  I’ll spare you on all the gritty details, but a few weeks back I caught the hot roommate red-handed cheating on his girlfriend.  I didn’t say anything, but the story has started to unfold.  Saturday night all the roommates played beer pong and went to dinner and hot roommate was visibly upset because his girlfriend didn’t invite him to dinner with her family.  And rumors are flying that he’s ’bout to get dumped. If you ask me he totes deserves it.

The real drama lies within the weird barbarian roommate though.  Anth and I have daily bitch sessions about him and finally last night the hot roommate joined in. 

The things we are complaining about aren’t your typical roommate annoying habits.  Well, some of them are.

First off, this guy refuses to use the dishwasher at the off chance that he may put someone else’s plate in there/he doesn’t ever want to unload it.  The thing of it is, unless you are hoarding your dirty dishes in your room – how do you know which ones are yours when you’re only hand washing them once a month? Here’s a clue bro: I’ve been doing them for you because the dishwasher gets ran every other day.  Eat a dick. Anyway, I came home from work one day a few weeks ago and Anth was standing in the kitchen staring at a pile of dishes lying on a bath towel.  I started cracking up because I knew exactly what he was thinking.

He went off about how he couldn’t belive someone would be so inconsiderate as to handwash the dishes and then lay them out to dry on a towel that he had just dried his junk with that morning.  LOLZ. Oh Anth.

Then he was pissed because they were still sitting out the next day and moved them to the kitchen table where they remained for another week.  At this point all I can do is laugh about it, getting pissed off at roommates takes way too much of my energy.

The other big complaint about this guy is how loud he has sex and the fact that it sounds like he’s beating the shit out of his girlfriend.  None of us have gotten the guts yet to bring this up, because how do you say that? Do you ask the girlfriend? I mean honestly, it sounds like he beats her head against the wall. Last Sunday morning I was hungover laying on the couch watching a movie when they started at it.  And it made me so uncomfortable that I went back down to my room and went back to sleep.  Not only is it incredibly loud, they do it like 5 times a day.  Here’s the schedule: wake up, have sex, make breakfast, have sex, watch tv, have sex, eat dinner, have sex, get ready for bed, have sex.

So last night, Anth was in my room doing his laundry and the hot roommate busts in with steam coming out of his nose.  “Barbarian took my bike, WITHOUT ASKING, and I need to go to a volleyball game.  Now I have to drive and pay to park.” So, Anth and I looked at each other and let loose with all our complaints. It ended up being quite the bonding session.

During all of this, me, Anth, and the Hot Roommate were all invited to a Yacht party for the 4th of July.  The Barbarian, however, wasn’t invited and asked us all what we were doing.  Considering the fact that Saturday when we all played beer pong he made the comment about how he loves looking into a dogs eyes when it takes a shit, he won’t be getting an invite any time soon.

I think we’re all in agreement that he gets voted off the island.  Freaking weirdo.

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The reasons behind the misery

Today is a good day.  Let me tell you why.

First, it’s Friday.  Friday’s are ALWAYS good.

Second, Ciggy Breath AND my boss are both out of the office today.  A-ching-ching!

Third, I am going back to hometown for the second 3 day weekend in a row.

The downside is that I have to come back to hell on Tuesday.

I don’t have much planned for the long weekend, Betty and I are going to hit up her pool with some brewskis Saturday afternoon.  And I’m going to hang out with High School Crush this weekend, in our hometown, probably high school style at one of our parent’s houses.  14 year old Gizzy is so envious of 27 year old Gizzy’s dating life right now!

Ok, real talk here, I need your help.  How can I politely tell Anth to stop being an annoying mother fucker in the mornings?  I realize that I live in an open room with no door and people have to walk past my area to leave our apartment.  I know I’m going to get woken up.  But, I feel like Anth doesn’t try to be quiet at all in the sense that he will run in and out of the house 10 times in the morning doing god knows what and slams the door when he leaves as hard as he can…. OR he leaves the door wide open for a solid 10 minutes.  Which also keeps me up, because I’m lying there thinking, “Ok, is he coming back? Should I get up and close the door? What if a robber comes in and kills me?”

The second thing he does is he moves the dishes around banging them on the counter as hard as he can without breaking them.  Don’t get me wrong here, he is not DOING the dishes, he’s just moving them from one spot on the counter to another.  A while back when I told a mutual friend of ours that Anth is the loudest person I’ve ever met he said, “Yeah I think he’s the type of person where if he’s up he thinks everyone should be and if you’re not up he wants you to know he is and he’s there.” Perfectly said.

My next complaint is about the fucking barbarian I am now living with, the guy from Alaska.  For whatever reason this guy creeps me out and just rubs me the wrong way.  I don’t like him.  Call me Judge Judy, but I am entitled to my closed minded opinion.

First off the guy does laundry every fucking day.  I just don’t understand how one person produces so many dirty clothes.  This annoys me because my room is in the laundry room so he’s constantly knocking on the wall outside of my room saying, “Gizzy? Can I jump in here and do some laundry?” Seriously, every fucking day.  At some point, maybe when I’m drunk, I’m going to snap back and be like “What the hell is wrong with you bro? Do you poop in your pants or something?” I just don’t get it. 

Second, Anth has met his match when it comes to being a disgusting slob.  This guy is worse. Not only does he produce more dirty dishes than he does clothes, he refuses to unload a dishwasher full of dishes that are 95% from him.  Instead, he fills up one side of the sink with water and piles his dishes in there, with food on them.  So by the time the dishwasher finally gets unloaded (when I do it) the water smells like dead people and there’s chunks of food floating around in it.  On that note, last night (after unloading the dishwasher) I found a dirty cutting board that had been conveniently placed BEHIND the toaster oven, with chunks of raw chicken still stuck to it.  Yep.  This is what I’m dealing with.  I won’t even get into how gross the buttons on the oven and microwave are because he fries everything he eats.

So anyway, now you all know the reasoning behind why I am miserable in my big city life.  I’m on the job hunt for a job near home town, but as I explained to lucky last night there just aren’t jobs out there.  I spend my evenings racking my brain trying to think of companies to apply to and once I get to their website there are no open jobs in finance.  Hrmph.  My plan, once I get a new job, is to go back to school.  Now I’m thinking that going back to school may be my only way out of the big shitty city.

But hey, Happy Memorial Day everyone…. Thank a soldier.



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Weekend To-Do list

Today, Friday, I am spending my whole day not working as I tend to do on Fridays. I typically use Fridays to make lists of the things I need to do over the weekend.  Mostly errands I’ll end up finding ways to tell myself I don’t actually need to do, because doing them would involve wearing pants and sitting in traffic.

So friends, here I am to share my freak show weekend list with you:

*Pack (I’m moving back to the dungeon on Tuesday, remember? Hrmph)


*Take one last bubble bath in my garden tub before I am sent back to sharing a bathroom with dirty boys

*Lay in bed naked while I still have 4 walls

*Do activities in my spacious 4 walled bedroom

                -Activities list-

                *Floor angels

                *Spreading my mail out all over the floor just because I can

                *Cheerleading high kicks

*Sit on my toilet and poop for literally the next 4 days. How am I going to poop when I share a bathroom with boys again? I’m pretty sure the last time I lived in the dungeon I held it in for 5 months.  I’ve really been taking pooping in the comfort of my own bathroom for granted.

*Re-master changing clothes without ever getting naked in case one of these new bros is a peeper.

*Apply for a babillion jobs so I can get the F out of the dungeon and the big city.

That’s all I can think about for now.  I am like really hung up on this pooping thing.

P.S. Happy Birthday to our main squeeze SHY GUY!!!!

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I’m the new girl, again.

Let me start off with my standard, sorry I sucked last week apology.  Big changes are coming my way and I can’t always put my feelings into words.  Also, I’m lazy.

You may recall a post from a few weeks ago when I mentioned I was going to try and spice things up round here by moving back into the dungeon. 

Well, the time has come.  Next weekend is moving day and I’m quite excited.  Not just because I’ll be saving $600 a month in rent and as the lone girl in the house I’ll have virtually no privacy, but because 2 new boys are moving it.

That’s right. Fresh meat. Literally. Gross.

Yesterday I had the pleasure of meeting one of the new roomies, we’ll call him “I’m hot Henry”.  So there I was sitting in my bed sewing sequins on my Vegas clothes, when Anth is at my door asking if I want to meet the new roomie.  I looked at myself in the mirror, realized I looked like asshole but didn’t care because what were the odds that I’d actually be attracted to the guy? Mistake #1.

He is HOT. Hence the name, I’m hot Henry.

So me, Anth, and IHH sat on the couch for a while and chatted.  Anth has told me that IHH and the other new roomie both have girlfriends.  However, in the 20 minutes I talked to the guy he did not mention her. 

Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not going to shit where I sleep (is that the saying?).  I’m just excited to have something nice to look at while I’m making dinner. Plus, I’ve got that whole High School Crush thing going.

And it’ll be extra fun having a hot roommate if Anth can take his head out of his girlfriend’s ass long enough for us to start having roomie night again.  Something we would do when JM still lived with us.

Anyway, IHH left and I immediately went to facebook creep mode trying to figure out his deal.  In the process I found the other new roomie, Hillbilly Hank.  Hillbilly Hank comes to the big city from the backwoods of Alaska.  I know we’ve tried to keep our locale on the DL up in here, but let me just say the big city is pretty much the complete opposite of Alaska. Honestly, Hillbilly Hank reminds me a lot of that hilljack cousin my aunt and uncle tried to set me up with last year. All his profile pictures are of him in camoflauge, holding a gun, and a dead animal.

I don’t know if you’ve gotten any kind of mental image of the type of guy Anth is all these years of me talking about him, but he is not like Hillbilly Hank. At all.  Anth is the epitome of a frat guy.  He wears polos, he gels his hair, he plays beer pong, he watches sports because he thinks it’s cool not because he likes them, and pre-girlfriend he would go to bars for one reason: ass.  I’m hot Henry seems, from what I can gauge, to be exactly the same as Anth.  I just would love to be around this fall when Hillbilly Hank goes hunting and hangs a dead animal in the garage to drain it’s blood.  Shits going to be good!

Anyway, I just cannot wait to watch all the drama unfold when these two guys, who are said to be very neat and tidy find out what a trash bag Anth is.  And when Anth starts with his bitching emails.  You see, since Doogie has been MIA the past 6 months and it has just been Anth and I, there have been no emails. Anth and I have come to an understanding and it is that he can be as dirty as he wants and I’ll stay in my room. Guys, it’s just going to be so good, you don’t know what you’re in for.

In other news, Lucky and I leave for Vegas in T-minus 20 days! AHHHHHHHHH!

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Clean up or ship out

I am fuming. I am so sick of these boys that I live with taking advantage of me.  Anth continues to think we all are getting paid an engineer’s salary like him and that it’s totally ok to make decisions about how Doogie and I will spend our money without consulting us first.

I’ve made it quite clear to him that I get paid shit and am always strapped for cash. He is a smart guy but doesn’t ever put the pieces together to conclude that I am poor and a lot of times that’s why I don’t do fun things on the weekend. I just think if I heard my roommate getting excited about the fact that she only had to spend $12 on her entire weeks groceries because she shopped at Aldi where the primary method of payment is food stamps I would maybe reconsider making her feel obligated to attend one of the following events that I had planned this month:

Football game weekend away: $200
My Birthday Night: $200
Concert: $100

That’s right, this month alone, Anth has planned these 3 expensive endeavors and made me feel obligated to attend them all. I agreed to do the football game weekend away quite some time ago so I should’ve known better. But for his birthday he wants to go to a sporting event which will cost $85 for the ticket and probably at least $100 in food and drinks per person if not more. Then he says for our roommate Christmas celebration he wants to go to a concert and the tickets for that are like $60 a piece plus food and drinks. That I already declined.  If he wants to do a roommate Christmas we can make cookies, drink egg nog, and put up my Christmas tree all for under $10, all while listening to the Biebs new Christmas album.  Today is the day people!

So Sunday night when I got home he tells me he hired a cleaning lady for his birthday, and I can just pitch in on that if I want. I don’t want. I don’t want! I just kind of brushed it off thinking he’d never get a dime out of me for that.

So Monday I’m at work, slaving away, when I see a chase quickpay email come through. Anth is requesting Doogie and I to pay him our monthly bills. Then I see an added note: “Oct Bills – added in the apartment cleaning …just return my bday present” WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I don’t know if you recall, but Anth and I have had several arguments about hiring a cleaning lady. My main argument for not wanting to hire one:

Because I clean. I clean all the fucking time. I cleaned that fucking house from top to bottom and spent countless hours scrubbing the stove and vacuuming the stairs with a hand held vacuum so that it would be clean when Lucky came to visit and his friend’s bachelor party trashed it again. I did the same thing when my mom and sister came to visit, and when my dad came to visit, and when Gigi came to visit, and when Deena came to visit, and when Betty came to visit, and when Jess came to visit, and a few other times just because I was sick of looking at the mess. So that’s probably at least 10 (10 x $99 a pop, looks like someone owes me some fucking money) times I have cleaned that place really well in the 9 months that I’ve lived there. I’ve argued that if they would clean too we wouldn’t need a cleaning lady, but I personally can’t keep up with a mess 3+ people make on my own, nor do I want to, so yeah the place still looks trashed all the time.

Lucky can vouch for the fact that one weekend just before she came to visit Anth had told me that we were having a cleaning session. Which I wasn’t going to be around for and told them to have at it because I’ve done my fair share already. I was driving back from home talking on the phone with Lucky telling her how excited I was that they were going to clean. And how pissed I was going to be if they didn’t. They didn’t. And it was the first thing I said when I walked in the door, “Looks real clean in here guys.” I wouldn’t have expected it if Anth hadn’t made such a big deal about us all getting anything we had laying around (which was nothing for me, again because I’m clean) in the living room and kitchen picked up before they started in on mission clean house. Lucky even said something to him about how they didn’t clean for me, and his response wasn’t like yeah we should have helped her out, it was about how now he knows all the stuff I say to Lucky behind their backs. Granted it was in jest, but still.

Anth’s argument was that if he OWNED the place he would clean it. Which is a crock of shit, whether you own it or not you still shouldn’t be ok with living in filth. His mommy probably cleaned up after him his whole life, then he lived in a frat house and had pledges to clean up after him, and now he lives on his own and has no one to clean up after him every day and his place is trashed – because of him, and he’s just waiting around to get married so that girl can clean up after him. And he has the audacity to expect his roommates to not only fork out $200+ for a night out for his birthday but another $35 to get the apartment cleaned without asking us before he bought it? Oh well sure, I mean we’re all just shitting out dollar bills so what’s the big deal?

I am really fucking pissed off about this. So I texted him:

Me: Exactly how much is this “apartment cleaning”?
Anth: $33
Me: Each?
Anth: Yes
Me: Alright, well if we’re doing that then I can’t come to your birthday or the weekend away. I don’t have money this month for unplanned stuff. (I already told him I wasn’t coming to his birthday after he called me fat last week. Yep, that happened.)
Anth: Just subtract it out of the bills.

That’s right, asshole. At first I felt bad for being a cheapskate over $33. But it’s the truth, I really won’t have the extra money this month to spend on a maid, nor do I want to spend $33 on a maid – that’s like almost a full tank of gas for me. I’m going to have to dip into my savings this month anyway because not only am I doing all of this stuff at Anth’s request but I’m also trying to get all of my Christmas shopping done so I’m not running around like a mad woman a week before I leave for Hawaii.

 I don’t expect (or want) the maid clean my room or bathroom when she does come, mostly because they will already be clean. The first time we had the argument he said, “But the maid like comes into your room and washes all your stuff. Like the pictures and the top of the dresser.” Oh you mean like dusting?! I do that on my own and it takes 5 minutes. Get your head out of your ass and stop being so lazy. It also kind of pisses me off that he thinks it’s totally fair to ask me to pay for a maid knowing how often I clean that place. If you ask me, they should get it FOR ME as a gift. And be like, “Here Gizzy, we got a maid so you can take some time off from cleaning up after us, we know we’re slobs and we’re sorry.” But no, Anth expects it to be a gift to him.  Selfish asshole.

The thing is, Doogie really isn’t a slob. He’s hardly ever there and maybe doesn’t wipe off the counter if he gets crumbs on it, but that’s only because there’s already a layer cake of crumbs that Anth has left behind. Anth is the one that’s truly messy and always blames it on whoever isn’t around.

Doogie and I were both gone all weekend leaving Anth to sit in his own filth and it still didn’t occur to him that he’s the one creating the mess, even after there were no dishes in the sink and now it’s full. Like you really think we sent along the dirty dish fairy to come dirty up all the dishes while you were asleep? God help him if he tries to argue with me about paying for a fucking maid. It will not be pretty.


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Attack of DishZilla

Happy Monday Everyone! Mark this day, that’s the only time you’ll ever hear me say those awful words. I cannot express how happy I am that last week is over, not only was work stressful (and it will be for about the next 3 weeks, I’ll be forcing myself not to suddenly come down with mono), but I also had to prepare for my parent’s visit over the weekend.  Which only entailed cleaning the house and buying my dad a birthday present, easier said than done when you live with 2 frat guys.  No big deal, right?

I waited to clean until it was around bedtime on Thursday night.  I figured that way, everyone would get up in the morning, run off to work, and not leave much of a mess for me to clean up.  When I came downstairs Friday morning everyone was already gone, but I could smell that someone had cooked a sausage and egg biscuit  (Anth, so predictable) and sure enough there were dishes in the sink with egg remnants all over them.

Like watching me run around the night before stressed out making sure the dishes that had been sitting in the sink for a week that were actually Doogie’s responsibility:

were all in the dishwasher so the house looked like a semi-clean frat house wasn’t enough of an incentive to be like, “Oh hmm… MAYBE Gizzy did all those dishes, cleaned our disgusting pube-infested bathroom, swept and mopped all the floors, washed the sticky beer residue off all of the surfaces in the place, AND made sure the couch pillows hid the spots on the couch where the leather came off because she wants it to appear to be clean and not look like we’re poor hobos, and maybe I could take 5 minutes out of my morning facebook whore creeping session to unload the dishwasher and put these dishes in there so she doesn’t have to worry about it since it’s my mess. But no, I won’t because I’m an inconsiderate ass.” So, he put it in the sink and didn’t even rinse it.  

I swear to you, a switch is going to flip and they are going to come home one day to broken dishes all over the floor because I can’t take it anymore, and they can all eat off toilet paper  and magazine scraps for all I care.  Housewives are so underpaid.  

But anyway, you can see in the right hand corner of the photo a list hanging on the dishwasher.  That’s a list of whose turn it is to unload it, when it’s unloaded we cross our name off and write weather the dishes are dirty or clean.  My name is crossed off about 6 times, Anth’s once, and Doogie’s bringing up the tail with a whopping ZERO.  I was skeptical of the list to begin with because of course no one would enforce it, it’s just there to blatantly point out who does the dishes and who doesn’t, which we all knew anyway.

But, Anth made the list because Doogie is notorious for inviting his girlfriend over to make these huge feasts for the two of them and the dishwasher is conveniently almost always full, and she can usually fit about 1 fork in there, then runs it. And, like a whore, leaves the rest of the dishes in the sink, and her and Doogie disappear for the next 5 days so that Anth or myself (ME, it’s always me) has to clean their mess up after it has sat there so long that it starts to come to life.  But, I believe now Anth is seeing how little he does the dishes and how I pretty much do everything that keeps our apartment from being roach and rat infested.   That’s a lie, he hasn’t noticed at all.  If anyone has noticed it’s me, realizing how much I actually clean up after these stupid slobs.

So anyway, back to the story… I came downstairs found dishes in the sink, cussed him under my breath, decided I wasn’t fucking unloading the dishwasher again, and I wasn’t about to leave dishes in the sink after I busted my ass the night before to get them all done.  After frantically looking around for a place to hide the dirty dishes I decided on the oven.  I threw the dishes in there and ran off to work.  When I got home from work, a mere 3 minutes before my parent’s showed up, Anth was already home and had locked himself in his room to “work”.  On my way home I had sent him a text telling him that he better not have trashed the place after all my hard work cleaning it, of course he didn’t reply, which told me there were more dishes in the sink.

And when I got home?  

MORE FUCKING DISHES! I wanted to run upstairs, karate kick his door open and ask where he thought his dishes from this morning magically disappeared to, since the dishwasher was still full and why did that provoke him to leave more in the sink!? BASTARD!!  But I refrained, and shoved the rest of the dishes in the oven, did a walk through to make sure there wasn’t anything else I had missed, and relaxed for 5 seconds before the doorbell rang.

Although they noted that the place needed a paint job, a carpet cleaning, and the hard wood floors needed to be treated, the apartment got my parent’s seal of approval and we left.  SHEW!

About 9:30 Friday night I got the following series of texts from Anth:

“Gizzy, WTF!!!!!!”

“Dishes in the oven, really?”

“I just cooked the shit out of them.”

At 3:15 am I decided to reply…

“Yeah, and you can take those dishes and SHOVE THEM UP YOUR BUTT!!!”

Thank you Stanley from the office for that magnificent one liner, you are a good man.

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Leave me aloooone!!!!

Can I just start out by saying I am getting pretty good at the whole blogging at work thing? It’s pretty nice to take some time to myself and sit with a bag of chips on my desk pretending to eat lunch for 2 hours a day.

My weekend wasn’t nearly as exciting as Lucky’s, as per usual. Friday night Anth and I stayed in to do some work on the 3 cases of beer we had purchased the weekend prior for JM’s going away party, we played drinking games, gossiped, and watched AFV and played drunken Jeopardy. The perfect night if you ask me. I was pretty hungover the following day after drinking literally half a case of bud light and summoned myself to bed for the next 2 days with flu like symptoms. I don’t know if it’s because I was feeling under the weather or if I’m just starting to come to my senses a little bit, but anything any of the guys did just got under my skin the whole weekend. Then I started to get annoyed with the men on tv, and even my dad. Like seriously? Why are guys so annoying?

I whined most of Saturday morning to Anth about how I didn’t feel good and how he needed to shut up so I could take a nap. Finally at 3pm he said he was going out to a party. Then, just as I was about to drift off to sleep I hear him knocking on my door, asking if I will take him to the party. “NO! Drive yourself. Go away!” I think I should probably back up a little so everyone can see just HOW nice I am to these guys. Wednesday evening I’m sitting in my new room, putting my new dresser together, enjoying some solitude because the boys went to a concert. My phone rings, and it’s Anth. “Um, they won’t let us into the concert because I’m wearing shorts and Doogie has on flip flops. Can you bring me some jeans and Doogie his Chucks?” “Are you effing kidding me? Where is it, I’m not driving more than 10 minutes each way.” “It’s at the House of Blues.” Ooooof course it is. I gathered up their crap and dropped it off to them. An hour and some odd minutes later I was back to my dresser. So that’s 1 nice thing I did. Not to mention I bought a bunch of bananas to try and force myself to eat breakfast and only got 1 of them because Anth hoovered the rest of them. Now he’s asking me to take him to a party on a Saturday afternoon when traffic is at its ultimate worst, I have no gas, AND I don’t feel good. He can eat one. I stuck to my grounds and told him to leave me alone. Then the BBM’s started.

A: Pleeeeaaaaase
G: NO! Sleep.
A: I’ll buy you dinner
G: You still owe me for bringing you pants, lets not bite off more than we can chew here.
A: Gizzy, please. I have to take chips, salsa, and beer. WTF.
G: You don’t even have any chips and salsa.
A: I know…. All the more reason not to take a cab. Gizzy, come on I would do it for you.

Here’s where I got really pissed. NO, you would not do it for me, because I would never ask. I would either drive myself, take the subway, or take a cab. But I would NEVER ask you to take me to the grocery store, wait in the car, and then take me to a party. I would not. Because I have manners, and consideration for others and their time. I wouldn’t mind doing it for someone every now and then, but it’s seriously starting to get ridiculous. I would say on average I drive him somewhere to get drunk at least once a week. It also wouldn’t be so bad if traffic in this city didn’t make you want to kill yourself. So I stuck my grounds and ignored him.

Then I hear the banging on my door again. What now? “Doogie said he would drive me if he can take your car.” His is dead and Anth’s is a stick. Of course he can’t drive a stick, because what man can? So I throw my keys at them and tell them they better put gas in it because it’s empty.

Sunday rolls around and I decide to eat my left over pizza from Friday night. I go to the fridge and it’s gone. I know what happened to it, but I want to make a big deal about it. “SO WHERE’S MY GD PIZZA?!” Doogie: “Oh yeah, sorry I smashed that last night.” Gizzy: Are you serious? Did you pay for it? Did you order it? Did you only get 1 piece of it? Doogie: Sorry, I owe you big. Gizzy: Seriously, leave me alone. Both of you. So I go out to my car to go to get food and what do I find? No gas and 2 apple cores sitting in my console left by them to rot. My new sunglasses tossed in the backseat with everything else that was in the passenger’s seat on top of them.

So while I’m at the store I get this BBM from Anth:

We’re grilling out Brats do you want one?

I replied that I had 2 hot dogs left in the refrigerator so if he could throw ONE of those on for me it would be stellar and would not even begin to make up for what they had done to me. Then a few minutes later he replies asking if I am going to eat both of the hot dogs because if not he’ll eat the other one. I reply, “YES. Yes, I am going to eat both hot dogs at some point. I don’t buy food for you to eat, and for me to not eat.” He replies, “Oh, well you might want to buy some more while you’re at the store then.” I reply “I said to make 1 of them. IDIOT.” So, I come back, call him a dbag, “accidentally” break his favorite glass and retreat to my room for the rest of the night without saying a word to either of them.

Like I’m sorry, but can someone please explain to me what makes them think it’s ok to eat food that someone else purchased for themselves? Like I would just never do that. Okay, like a cheese slice here and there or something like that is no big deal. But we’re talking they will eat full on meals that I have in the fridge or if I bring home leftovers I don’t even get the opportunity to eat them. Like saying that you owe me one does not make this ok. I don’t make a ton of money and I certainly don’t like having to go to the grocery store every 2 days to replace food of mine that they ate.

I am planning on bringing my mini-fridge from home this weekend to house any leftovers and things I don’t want them eating. But these guys are 26 years old, they have money and ways to get to the store to buy themselves food so why do they insist on eating mine? Well, I’m not going to stand for it. I’m going to continue to go off and break dishes every time they do it. That will show them. The next time they go to eat MY food, they won’t have anything to eat it off of. HA! This is not my first rodeo.

Just to add fuel to the fire, after work yesterday while I’m sitting in rush over traffic I get this email on my phone:

Subject: Cleaning Sesh
To: Doogie, Gizzy

Sometime this week? Landlord is coming to fix the ice maker this week sometime he said.

Reply from: Doogie

Yeah I got the upstairs and downstairs bathrooms, ours is gnarly. We need to organize the freezer, I have no idea where my stuff is.

Ok, boys. HAVE AT IT! I am sitting this one out, because I’ve had about 10 “cleaning sesh’s” by myself. UGH! And I would like to throw out a special thank you to all of you for listening to me rant for the past 10 minutes. A good Tuesday to you!

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