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.

Are you there Google? It's me, Rachel.

Just wanted to point out the first thing google returned to me when I asked for the definition of "Overtly" (god forbid I ever spell/use a word the wrong way): "In an overt manner; 'He did it overtly'"

Why, thank you google (and wordnet.princeton.edu) for that dazzlingly precise and yet totally worthless definition.

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.

I want to marry Wikipedia. Is that possible?

Ever notice that they throw out "Sarcoidosis" as a potential diagnosis in almost every episode of "House" (not that I've seen them all...)? What, exactly, is this mysterious "catch-all" disease? Turns out sarcoidosis is a disease that can either manifest over time, or very suddenly, with severe and chronic symptoms, or no symptoms at all... It can start with a rash, cough, or really anything at all, and occurs in all races, genders, and age groups all across the world. It can also affect almost all of your internal organs, or none of them, and it has no known cause.

I guess they actually did their homework on that one. Oh shit... maybe I have sarcoidosis... RIGHT NOW.

Things I've learned in College thus far

"Beer before liquor" and other such alcohol related rhymes hold no weight when well drinks are $1.