These are the days of our lives.

Have I mentioned before how wrecktastically (yes I made up that word, the post needed it) disastrous my roommates are? First, the youngest one dumps her boyfriend who proceeds to break back into the house, argue with her, and then threaten her with a dull (albeit very large) kitchen knife. Then the same roommate invites her ex-con bestie to live with us, after which countless unsavory "gang-bangers" start showing up at our house at all hours, often when roomie and bestie are not even home.

Then my other roommate, who thinks she is the most responsible human being on the planet (they only allow a CERTAIN CALIBER OF PEOPLE to sign leases, you know), allows her two ex-con siblings to move in and share a room. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I'm all for fresh starts... until one of them gets his girlfriend pregnant. The same girlfriend who asks me for a cigarette after her third ultrasound. I had to hold the vomit in, people.

And this whole time I've kept my pretty little mouth shut because the arguments with these people are quick to devolve and insanely hard put a stop to. But then my food. Good lord, my food. It disappears daily, HOURLY, and there are only so many people in the house right now. But four (five, counting the pregnant girlfriend who is "visiting" while they "figure things out") are on team trashtastic, so of course it must be me who is eating copious amounts of.... my own food. Even though I'm asleep for 99% of the time I am in the house.

I need a solution but I'm unwilling to give up a room this size for this little rent, and they are unwilling to give up their idiocy. What to do.

Stop. Talking.

"Is there TP in there?"
"Jon, is there TP in there?"
"what?"
"Jon, is there TP IN THERE?"
"Hey, is there Toilet paper in there?"
"Do you need toilet paper?"
"what?"
"Toilet paper"
"oh, no"
"There's none in there?"
"no"
"Do you need some?"
"yeah"

The preceding conversation took about 2 minutes, which was probably two minutes too long. I have come to the MIND BLOWING conclusion that my roommate shelters her brother a little too much. Like, damn girl, he's almost 20, he can probably figure out the toilet paper situation by himself. Plus he was in prison, and I'm pretty sure they use crusty pages from a decade old sports illustrated as TP in prison.

Sometimes I'm too lazy to boil water...

I've been sick recently, and have chalked it up to allergies, but have a persistent cough that I've been trying to eradicate before IT'S TOO LATE, OH DEAR GOD.

Anyways, I've found brief respite in what I like to call a tea "habit", since I'm going through like 20 bags a day. And I am waaaaay too lazy to sit there and wait for the water to boil, so I usually just stick a mug of water in the microwave.

So today I'm in front of the microwave when one of my roommates stops, looks through the window, and then whips her head around to ask me "Are you boiling water? In the MICROWAVE?!!". Yes, I am boiling water in the microwave, I tell her. "Did you know that it could blow up?" she asks. I had a hard time holding THAT laugh in, let me tell you. So I say well, you're going to have to go ask someone who knows about science, but I'm pretty sure the worst thing that can happen is I burn my hand. Since it's my hand, I think we're all O.K. here.

She still watches out of the corner of her eye for the next minute and a half, and lets out a little sigh while making an exaggerated "THAT was close!" face at me when I finally pull the mug out and stick the tea bag in.

I'm pretty sure she has a future at NASA.

Landmark!

We here (by which I mean...me...) at Accidental Love have gained one official follower! Wowza! Don't crack open the franzia just yet, however... I thought we (again, me) would celebrate in a different way. That's right, it's time to Make Fun of Other People!!! Let's take this conversation my roommates had during an episode of House, for example.

#1: So, what's going on?
#2: She was just diagnosed with African Sleeping Sickness!!!
#1: Didn't she come in with like, mood swings or something?
#2: Yeah! And she never went to Africa, but she got it by sleeping with some guy!
#1: So it's like... (long pause. C'mon roomie... work.... it....out...) AN STD?!?!??
#2: YEAH! (No?)
#1: Wow, you can get some crazy shit from sleeping with people!

Yes, you CAN get some crazy shit from sleeping with people. I'd better start asking my potential lovers to go ahead and get tested for African Sleeping Sickness so that they can submit it along with their STD test results and application. I am so glad we have shows like "House" to teach us about the dangers of sleeping with people who have traveled outside of the country.

Recipe for disaster

I woke up half an hour ago. Itchy. Like, really itchy.

What could it possibly be, making my face itch so hard that I'm tempted to scratch it off, or at least spend the next hour or so in a hot shower?

I didn't eat anything out of the ordinary. I had the same wine I always drink with dinner.

Then it hits me. The fire. That damn bonfire my roommates built outside. With wood. And green stuff. You know, stuff I'm allergic to. It's slowly killing me.

Seriously. Is it me, or is it extremely creepy that this stuff has some sort of half life? In twenty years--when I'm living in a sanitary padded cell because of, you know, THESE DAMN ALLERGIES--I'm going to start swelling like a puffer fish out of the blue and everybody is going to be like how the hell is she allergic to this?

Then I'll laugh. Because the allergies drove me crazy.

Accidental frustration

A conversation about Recycling. (wherein my snarky commentary was very effectively withheld and is now being released in italic form)

Roommate: "Hey" (holds up cardboard microwave dinner box). "Things like this need to go in the recycling."

Me: (wondering exactly what "like this" means to her. Like... rectangular? Like... Marie Callender brand?). "O.K. well, I'm pretty hardcore about recycling, I don't usually throw much in the trash."

Roommate: "Well our garbage was overflowing and our recycling was empty this past week."

Me: "Noted. I think you need to talk to blank, and blank. I'm pretty sure that belongs to them" (They seem to have grown up in a remote village not familiar with recycling. Probably somewhere in California).

Roommate: "Ok, well, I'm just telling everyone."

Me: "Did you tell blank and blank?" (you know, the Aliens not familiar with the concept of recycle, reduce, reuse? And save the earth? Captain Planet would be so ashamed...)

Roommate: "I'm not blaming you. I'm just telling everyone."

Me: "Right. I got that. But did you tell blank and blank yet?" (because I don't trust for one second that this way anything more than a ploy to disturb my slumber)

Roommate: "I'm telling everyone."

Me: (WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER??? Oh, it's you. Again.) "Ohhhhkeeeee..... thanks...."

This is about where I gave up. I still want to know what "like this" means. Because, you know, if we're only allowed to recycle rectangular objects from this point on, I'm going to have to get creative.