I have to add one more thing about my old roommate, Dave, who I mentioned the other day. I would have written this with the other entry but I was too schnockered to remember the most important part.

Dave was quite the stud. Everywhere he went, girls looked at him longingly and looked at me menacingly, though I tried to give off the “hey, I’m just a friend” vibe when ever those girls shot eye daggers at me.

He was very tall, and had the requisite post-grunge 1995-era goatee/leather jacket thing working mightily. Despite all of this, he was not my type because typically blondes are invisible to me. Plus, our third roommate was his best friend AND my boyfriend, but that’s another story in itself.

Sometimes Dave would take a break in his busy schedule of rock show-going, drinking, and crotch-rocket riding to seek out some female companionship.

He would bring home the newest fling, and they and my boyfriend and I would proceed to get frighteningly drunk, since we were all very newly free of parental tyranny. My boyfriend and I would go to bed and about an hour later I would get up to go pee. Oftentimes there would be a low hum or buzz coming from behind Dave’s closed bedroom door.

“Oh, that’s nice,” I would think to myself, having been a longtime vibrator fan. I thought, “Well, everyone’s happy in there. I’ll bet she’ll be back again.” But these girls always ended up being one-night stands.

One night after my bathroom break I mentioned to my boyfriend what I had just heard from Dave’s room. He laughed and told me, “Oh, yes. Dave’s a big fan of things that vibrate.”

My curiosity was piqued; I asked him if he knew what kind of set up Dave had going in there.

“Yeah, he told me once one night when we were really drunk. What you’re hearing is a carrot mounted on a Craftsman cordless screwdriver.”

Well, the girls didn’t usually come back twice, but I was even more in awe of Dave after that.