I still stand by my contention that February sucks balls. I'm not stepping down here, because I've had a miserable month. And you know what? Everyone I talk to will say in response, "February is the WORST!" See? It's true! It's cold and miserable (and Chicago has, of course, had the third-worst winter in its history) and everything seems to go to shit right on top of each other. A brief list of the awesome, bitchin' things that happened in the past twenty eight days include dealing with my father's cancer, realizing that insurance companies are SHIT even when you have insurance, figuring out my life after coming out to my parents through email (which, thank GOD, we still have not talked about, which is fine with me because, ew, I don't want to talk about my personal life with them like I do with strangers via my blog), having a reality-TV style blow up with an ex in a bar (said Erin: "At least you got to call someone 'a fucking cunt' and it wasn't just a joke. I've never done that!"), trying to manage my work-related stress, getting over rejection, and overloading on Christina's hilarity, which she's been unloading on me in efforts to cheer me up.
Also, I've been incredibly unproductive, despite having an extrememly prolific month of blogging here. But really, that's not something to write home about. I'm supposed to write a post for This Recording about how I didn't hate Juno and don't hate Diablo Cody, so expect a link to that missive of sheer brilliance soon. And because we have a rush of out-of-town visitors coming in March (Carissa next weekend, and Erin, Martha, and Christina's sister Carolyn the weekend after that), I'm going to clean the shit out of our apartment this weekend, which will include finally unpacking from my trip home at Christmas. Yes, I have had a suitcase sitting on my floor for the past two months.
I'm am very much looking forward to this weekend, during which I will be most likely taking it easy. I have nine DVDs to watch (the result of my spree last weekend), four movies on Netflix (one that I've had for a month), and three episodes of The Wire. The only social event I have planned for this weekend is a baptism, which is a nice change, actually. We shall have to see how low-key it actually turns out.
Anyway, February will be over in a matter of hours (thanks, you stupid fucking Leap Year, for giving me an extra day of Hell), and I'm sure March is going to be a whole lot smoother.
One nice thing: another published photo!
Showing posts with label find out what happens when i stop being polite. Show all posts
Showing posts with label find out what happens when i stop being polite. Show all posts
Friday, February 29, 2008
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Great Moments, all around.
I've had a lot of roommates. Let's take a trip down memory lane, shall we?
August 2001 - January 2002. I lived in Dingledine Hall (yes, that's right) with James, also known as Fuckhead. James was a ridiculous human being who smoked so much pot. I've never known anyone who smoked as much pot as James. On top of that, he was an idiot. He took the basic freshman public speaking course three times. You know how hard it is, persuasively speaking to a class of your peers. He was a business major. Surprise!
January - May 2002. Lived in Converse Hall, the upper-class "substance free" dorm (full of Christians and people who were afraid of alcohol, like I was) with David, a music major who watched a lot of Golden Girls and whose only wall decoration was a Ralph Lauren beach towel with a teddy bear on it.
August 2002 - May 2003. Ohhhh, Jason. What a year that was. I lived in Converse again even though I was not as afraid of alcohol. Unfortunately, Jason clearly was, and a few days after move-in, he showed me pictures of his freshman year roommate's liquor stash. Why'd he take the pictures? "You know, in case I ever had to blackmail him." What an incredibly creepy / incredibly inane and pointless thing to do. Jason also had an affinity for Celine Dion, buying eighty-dollar human sexuality textbooks (because buying a sex book at Barnes and Noble for twenty bucks "would be weird"), and skipping to the last scenes in movies to find out how they end ("Wasn't Sophie's Choice devastating?!").
May 2003 - July 2003. Martha and I shared an apartment in the Straw House in downtown Harrisonburg with Lindsey, Lesley, and some girl whose name I can't remember. Katie? We didn't talk to her much (in fact, I don't think Martha ever recognized her). It was when I realized that my roommates didn't necessarily need to be batshit crazy.
August 2003 - May 2004. After a year with Jason, I decided to live alone. In an old Howard Johnson. Off Interstate 81. I had a heat lamp in the bathroom and a padded headboard.
May 2004 - June 2004. I had a sublet in an apartment with my friend Becca and her batshit crazy roommate. We had an awkward moment when I walked out into the living room and she was brushing her teeth. Topless.
June 2004 - June 2005. Martha and I lived in the JMs next door to Kristin and Janna and a dumpster that had "Puberty Sandwich" spray-painted on it. Living with Martha was great because she could cook, and I'd wake up occasionally to find blueberry muffins and coffee cake sitting in the kitchen. Martha also understood that if the steam from the shower sets off the smoke alarm, the only rational move is to dismantle the smoke alarm.
August 2005 - November 2005. I lived in a Coach House near Southport and Addison with Kristin, Janna, and Laurie. We were mostly unemployed and drank a lot. Hilarity ensued.
November 2005 - February 2006: Laurie moved home to Virginia, so then it was Kristin, Janna, and Joe. Hilarity paused, then ensued again.
February 2006 - July 2006. Kristin moved out to live with Dan, and Nicole moved in. Then Joe started cooking a lot of bacon and fish. Things were kind of weird.
July 2006 - Present. Nicole and I found the apartment on Pine Grove, which was fish- and bacon-free. Christina moved in with us, and things were just nutty (the good kind). We watched a lot of SVU, spooned (or, as Nicole affectionately called it, "cuddle raped"), listened to James Blunt, and spoke with Boston accents.
Nicole is moving home today and I'm sad because she's one of my best friends and, perhaps more importantly, one of my more normal roommates. In honor of her leaving, I shall now post some pictures to remember her by. Love ya, Troll!
August 2001 - January 2002. I lived in Dingledine Hall (yes, that's right) with James, also known as Fuckhead. James was a ridiculous human being who smoked so much pot. I've never known anyone who smoked as much pot as James. On top of that, he was an idiot. He took the basic freshman public speaking course three times. You know how hard it is, persuasively speaking to a class of your peers. He was a business major. Surprise!
January - May 2002. Lived in Converse Hall, the upper-class "substance free" dorm (full of Christians and people who were afraid of alcohol, like I was) with David, a music major who watched a lot of Golden Girls and whose only wall decoration was a Ralph Lauren beach towel with a teddy bear on it.
August 2002 - May 2003. Ohhhh, Jason. What a year that was. I lived in Converse again even though I was not as afraid of alcohol. Unfortunately, Jason clearly was, and a few days after move-in, he showed me pictures of his freshman year roommate's liquor stash. Why'd he take the pictures? "You know, in case I ever had to blackmail him." What an incredibly creepy / incredibly inane and pointless thing to do. Jason also had an affinity for Celine Dion, buying eighty-dollar human sexuality textbooks (because buying a sex book at Barnes and Noble for twenty bucks "would be weird"), and skipping to the last scenes in movies to find out how they end ("Wasn't Sophie's Choice devastating?!").
May 2003 - July 2003. Martha and I shared an apartment in the Straw House in downtown Harrisonburg with Lindsey, Lesley, and some girl whose name I can't remember. Katie? We didn't talk to her much (in fact, I don't think Martha ever recognized her). It was when I realized that my roommates didn't necessarily need to be batshit crazy.
August 2003 - May 2004. After a year with Jason, I decided to live alone. In an old Howard Johnson. Off Interstate 81. I had a heat lamp in the bathroom and a padded headboard.
May 2004 - June 2004. I had a sublet in an apartment with my friend Becca and her batshit crazy roommate. We had an awkward moment when I walked out into the living room and she was brushing her teeth. Topless.
June 2004 - June 2005. Martha and I lived in the JMs next door to Kristin and Janna and a dumpster that had "Puberty Sandwich" spray-painted on it. Living with Martha was great because she could cook, and I'd wake up occasionally to find blueberry muffins and coffee cake sitting in the kitchen. Martha also understood that if the steam from the shower sets off the smoke alarm, the only rational move is to dismantle the smoke alarm.
August 2005 - November 2005. I lived in a Coach House near Southport and Addison with Kristin, Janna, and Laurie. We were mostly unemployed and drank a lot. Hilarity ensued.
November 2005 - February 2006: Laurie moved home to Virginia, so then it was Kristin, Janna, and Joe. Hilarity paused, then ensued again.
February 2006 - July 2006. Kristin moved out to live with Dan, and Nicole moved in. Then Joe started cooking a lot of bacon and fish. Things were kind of weird.
July 2006 - Present. Nicole and I found the apartment on Pine Grove, which was fish- and bacon-free. Christina moved in with us, and things were just nutty (the good kind). We watched a lot of SVU, spooned (or, as Nicole affectionately called it, "cuddle raped"), listened to James Blunt, and spoke with Boston accents.
Nicole is moving home today and I'm sad because she's one of my best friends and, perhaps more importantly, one of my more normal roommates. In honor of her leaving, I shall now post some pictures to remember her by. Love ya, Troll!
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