Hey Girl who happens to share the same livin quaters,
Let’s learn to live to together shall we?
For starters*, how about taking those keys have to be shared by everybody off your power-hungry key chain. (Please note the period. This is not a request as much as it is a demand in the structure of a request.) If one needs to go to the laundry room or if one has to check the mail, one shouldn’t have to call up your ass and ask for the key. The key is to the goddamn mail box, not your precious, rag-tag Daewoo. I am not going to take the laundry out for a good time and wreck the washer. “Is this your roommate ma’am? She was caught joyriding a dryer with Deli Kates. I hope you know that this is a serious offense. Some one could have gotten hurt. There could have been another bleach accident. Do you know how many colored garments’ lives are ruined by bleach alone?”
Stop misplacing things. Just stop. I am not a neat freak, but it really bothers me that I keep finding my scissors, tape, and stapler in the kitchen. Considering you only use the kitchen for microwave burritos and 3-pound salads made of wilted garden greens, why the hell do I keep finding my scissors in the knife drawer? I reach in for a butcher knife and I pull out a dinky pair of paper clippers. This really matters to me. Do you have any idea how hard it is clean blood out of scissors?
Just because your taste buds have committed suicide, doesn’t mean the rest of world must have lost their sense of taste too. In other words, stop claiming that “they all taste the same, sweetie.” Some of us were blessed and cursed with a sense of taste that makes it difficult to drink the pop with the lowest price. Sam’s Choice tastes inferior to Pepsi, and Pepsi tastes inferior to Coca-Cola (if the Coke is from a soda fountain, otherwise Pepsi wins). I’m sorry, those are the rules. (Oh, and those mini pizzas that come in the plastic bag tastes like flavored cardboard, Kroger’s Apple Cinnamon Toasted Oats leave me feeling like I just cheated on Buzz the Honeybee, and I only buy 2% so keep your soy to yourself.)
And to wrap this up, just a few simple things concerning dishes.
1. Keep your ashtray out of the dishwasher.
2. Stop putting your ashtray in the dishwasher.
3. I’ll stop bitching about the ashtray in the dishwasher if you eat a bowl of soup out of a bowl that you have used as ashtray for at least a week. Can you taste the carcinogens my dear? Don’t forget to savor the flavor of ash from your cigarettes and her “cigarettes.” Now it puts the lotion on its skin before I invest in a hose.
*Yes that would be a two word introduction because I’m just too damn pissy today. (As in “I’m so pissy I wouldn’t even notice if you accused my poor temper on PMS.”)
Labels: crfh, Deli Kates and other made up names, feelings