I miss having a roommate sometimes. I mean, I haven't actually had a roommate in four years, but I was one of the lucky ones when it came to roommates. In college, I had three of the best roommates a man could have. And after college, all my roommates were pretty kick ass.
Now, if you can afford not to have a roommate, I highly recommend you uh, don't get one (note to self: study grammar), if only because it's peaceful to know that whenever you arrive home you will not have someone else's life intruding on yours. But well, some days, like yesterday, I just kind of missed the whole roommate experience.
Yesterday, after work, I umpired a baseball game and completely freaked out. Some fifteen year old kids were whining and bitching and just generally being snotty assholes who weren't taking credit for their own actions. And I lost it. I dropped my mask, walked over to their bench and started screaming at them until I realized I was gonna cuss and just stopped mid-sentence and went back to work.
I called those kids whiny pansies.
I told them to take responsibility for their actions or they'd never grow up to be men.
I told them that they disgusted me.
I said all this really loudly and with the kind of force that shuts up entire crowds and makes people think, “Holy shit, that umpire's lost it. Is he on coke?”
I'm that kind of umpire.
And then after the game, my girl?we'll call her Rochelle for the purpose of this blog because I really like that name?who had been watching the whole time, decided to suck me off in her truck.
So there I sat, covered in sweat, enjoying the warm caress of a blowjob well done, listening to the sounds of an emptying little league park, and I thought to myself, “Wow. Who the hell has a life like this? Is it everybody? It can't be just me. I need to discuss my night with someone.”
So I went home and I called my friend Kevin to let him know the details. Kev's a hilarious guy and a great listener and all that. But it wasn't quite the same as having a roommate look up from the TV as I walked through the door and ask, “Bro, how was the game?”
“Dude,” I would have replied. “I think I have a weird life.”
And then I would have proceeded to tell the story I just told you. And then I would have known (much later) if the story was truly strange or not if my roommate bothered to tell it to other people.
But I don't have a roommate.
Luckily for me, though. I have you people.
Thanks for listening.