In Which I, Asshole Learn the Importance of Having an Adult Drawer

I had this roommate, oh JESUS CHRISTO I had this roommate. Me being in the same room with her was a bad idea, but I didn’t realize that at the time. Firstwith, she was trying to steal my boyfriend at the time. That sounds very Betty and Veronica, doesn’t it? It was worse than that because I was clueless, so I couldn’t even have the cartoon wavy-bacon steam lines coming off my head. I should probably tell you that story some other time.

One story about my roommate.

I. I was having a really bad, bad miserable time in my hometown. I was smoking a lot of cigars and dating this guy who worshipped the Beastie Boys and had a fresh-ass afro and a motorcycle. Unfortch, I was also living with my boyfriend. That puts such a pall on your dating life. So my BF was all, “Girl, I am tired of your cigars and you coming home randomly handcuffed,” which happened after my friends dropped me off from the Verve Pipe/Majesty Crush show (I don’t remember anything about the Verve Pipe, but Majesty Crush totally saved my life and I will give you seven dubloons if you have one of their records).

So I called my friend and told her my boyfriend wanted me out, and she said she was looking for a roommate. This sounded good to me. I was working as a landscaper/apartment building maintenance person, and as an evictress on the side, and the crew I worked with decided it was only right and proper to give me a going-away party. We went to the bowling alley and had some pitchers, and when I came home my date dropped me off and I got off the wrong side of his motorcycle, which resulted in me burning my calf. I still have a plum-sized white scar to pay for my folly, which made me limp so bad during my first week in Seattle I had to cancel on a PJ Harvey concert. I will show it to you sometime.

Later my date and I did something (with our pants on, even) that made him write me letters for months after, which I unfeelingly ignored.

Anyway, I moved out with my roommate, who I am too lazy to assign a pseudonym to, and we hunkered down in her little studio together. Of course, this was during the reign of Mr. Buzzy(s), and I was careless enough to leave it under my pillow, tucked inside the case. What did I care? I was seventeen, in the big city, and unemployed at the beginning of my run there. Let us say I had loads of spare time.

I also had Taibas Jones, who was shipped out as part of my swag, which included four boxes (mostly records) and a cat. I tell you, this cat learned how to climb the rungs of my roommate’s bunkbed. Judged to be more nimble and fifty pounds lighter, I was stationed on the top. There Nietzsche would go, hooking her paws around the rungs and climbing to get me. She had a game where she’d actually scootch up the ladder and come after me, when she was in her kittenhood.

WELL, one day Nietzsche was up and down the ladder, freakishly, fucking with me and having a fabulous time. I kept jumping back and my roommate was ensconced in her bed and mockingly cursing me for making so much noise and fucking around. It was kind of like a slumber party gone wrong.

Then, for the last time, I leaned back into my pillow as the cat attacked and BZZZZZZZZ! I leaned right into my vibrator under my pillow, somehow twisting the dial and turning it on. Fucking fantastic. It took me a minute to realize what I had even done before I could (subtly) scramble to turn it off again.

My roommate was in hysterics. She knew what I had done and what had happened, and she was literally rolling around on her bed below. I, for my part, lay very still and wished I could disappear. I laid there until my roommate was able to stop laughing, and then got up and went on with my day.

Part of me was totally embarrassed, and part of me didn’t care. I was three years younger than her, and she sort of treated me like goony entertainment anyway, so I knew it wouldn’t matter. A month later we moved to a bigger place that had separate bedrooms. Weird stuff goes down when you’re in close quarters, doesn’t it?

In Other News

Guess the fuck WHAT? I got a job offer today. So it’s really loose at this point, but sincere, and it looks like I’ll be working this fall. And it’s all kid-friendly and flexible and crap. I win! Just like the terrorists.

AAAND Strudel is giving up naps. Rather than sleeping, she chose to strip her bed and herself. WOW! Does anyone know how to tie a hangman’s noose?

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Seriously, I feel like crying, but I’m TOO TIRED. HAA HAA HAA HAA! (Prays for drugs.)

This morning I put her barrette back in her hair eleventhy times before eight o’clock. So guess what? SNIP, BITCHES! And LO, there was bangeths.

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Also, I think you should know that I dropped so much ice cream into my keyboard last night that it is hard to depress the question key. Poor Tyrone!

9 thoughts on “In Which I, Asshole Learn the Importance of Having an Adult Drawer

  1. Strudel is such cuteness! I totally understand where your coming from with bangs. We’ve been going through the don’t-get-your-friggen-gum-in-your-damn-hair-again-or-I’m-shaving-your-head phase. Girls girls girls! The only story I have about a Mr. Buzzy, is my oldest catching a glimpse of it in a drawer and asked…”Do you have a PENIS in your drawer?” LMAO “Uhh, no, it’s just a toy…now go play!” HAHAHA!!!

  2. WOO HOO!!! Congrats on the job!

    I am so right there with you with the naptime destruction. Every day when I walk into the kid’s room when naptime is over, she brightly greets me with, “I make a mess, Mama!” Also, the hair? In everything. Even with the bangs. I’m thinking buzz cut.

  3. It’s scary, I actually understand those parents who do the half-head of bangs.

    OH WAIT, No I DON’T.

  4. This was one of the greatest stories I ever read. Seriously. You are a giftedly entertaining storyteller. Your stories make my insomnia less painful.

  5. i can just hear erikah (or however the hell she spells her name) badu sangin’ about your tyrone.
    re your comment that started out w/gah!
    one of them is a twin, even. double the cute.

  6. OMG you’re cracking my shit right the hell up. Well not my shit, ’cause that’d be gross, but you know what I mean. Hilarious!

  7. that is y i keep everything in my truck or at work so my gf no find anything cause she always snoopnig around my stuff

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