I blog. About life.

Month: October, 2011

Where does vomit come from?

So my roommate never ceases to surprise me with our correspondence, and today did not fail me. As I was leaving to go to work this morning my roommate tells not to walk on the sidewalk. (This instruction was even before I even got a ‘good morning’. Clearly, indicating the importance.) But, alrighty, no problem. I drive to work anyway. #crisesavoided! He explains: “There’s vomit on the sidewalk… I don’t know if you know but the number one cause of vomit but it’s usually drunkenness. I asked the neighbors if they’ve seen vomit on the sidewalks as well, and they have. They also think it’s probably somebody who has been drinking too much and vomiting on their way home.”

Hold the phone. Number one cause of vomit? Okay, sure. I suppose I can buy that. But, I think we might really be jumping to conclusions when we assume that the vomit is caused by some drunkard on their way home from a Halloween party. We should probably first consider those second, third, and fourth possible causes of vomit. Things could get really messy if we’re only looking out for the neighborhood partier… Perhaps a passing alien got sick from space travel and had to relieve him/her/itself on our sidewalk, or maybe the neighborhood kid slipped some ipecac into the bird feeder and the aerial bio-hazards have been spewing liquid bile upon the earth . Who knows? Who knows…. I think I”ll be asking the neighbors some questions about the vomit appearances as well, but I have my own suspicions.

In the mean time, dear friends, I suggest carrying an umbrella…

Continued Door Saga

Evening Friends!

If you thought at this point in our intrawebz correspondence (as I have often thought)  that my doorway intellect was nearing at least a novice level: you’re wrong. (Are you getting tired of being wrong? Me too.) Yet, even after my epic door opening, my roommate still believes that my doorway skillz are substandard, medial, barely functional, in fact. But, worry not dear friends, worry not. I have my roommate to teach me. And, he is slowly training me, as one might train a young child to use the potty, to use this nebulous, this ever confusing device: the door.

So, yesterday, while playing on the intrawebz in my room, I received a phone call. It was roommate. He asked if I was home. After contemplating lying, I said yes (Mistake # 1) to which he asked me to come downstairs to talk. I figured that it might be about heating, utilities, or something along those lines so I agreed to scuttle down. (Mistake #2)

When I get downstairs my roommate asks me:  “Have you ever used doors like these?” *points to the door between the kitchen and dining room* (We have the old school, skeleton-key, type of doors in our apartment.) Of which, I replied: ‘Yes, I grew up in an old farm house.’

I guess my affirmation registered to him as “No, I r haz teh stoopid. Ken not haz opin teh doorz. How u do eht?” Because my roommate then launches straight into a schpeal on how to (I shit you not) close the door. I was instructed on how to turn the handle, pull the door open, and then push/pull the door until it clicks shut.

I would have never figured out how to close a door. My entire life I’ve tried so many different way to close a door:


But now, with great confidence, I can now shut a door. Fuck yeah! No more anxiety for me! No more hitching hiking into buildings, and no moar scouting for automatic doors. I am a door master! Truly.

I have learned to open and close a door…. one can only wonder at the possibilities. “Will I get a lesson on how to lock/unlock a door?” Only roommate will dictate when that arcane knowledge shall be bestowed upon me. Oh, but when it does, dear friends… when it does.

Fix Mai Adykshin!

Worry not, dear friends! I have returned.

I have been planning on updating you on this epic little saga that is my living situation but, for the past few days, I have not had internet access. If you can guess what caused this void in my life, I shall donate one of my kidneys to you… or at least smile and awkwardly change the subject when you ask. 🙂

So my roommate (you guessed it: he is the cause of no intrawebz!!!) has this fear that somebody is going to steal our wireless internet. I know what you’re thinking: “easy solution: why not just put a password on it?” Um, no. #failboat. His response would be: “Just putting a password on it is not safe enough. Your wireless is out in the open for everybody to see and try to hack into.”

You know I might put forth the effort of hacking into a locked network if there was only one person in my neighborhood who had internet… but we live in Boston. There are a shit load* of open networks in our area.

(*a shit load is any number that is greater than or equal to four)

  • I.E. there’s a starbucks 4 houses down. My first instinct, iffin I were in the business of pilfering intrawebz, would to be snaffle Starbuck’s wifi (and maybe a few of their muffins too). Screw guessing somebody’s password. Too much work for my lazy ass. I could be eating cheetos and watch reruns of Maury by the time you guessed the right password…And, while we’re on the subject of it, half the time I can’t even log into my own facebook/twitter/wordpress/tumblr/yahoo/gmail/pandora/stumbleupon/youtube (internet 4eva!1!!one1) because I can’t figure out what password I used. So, if somebody can divine a way to decide whether I used Octopuscomb43 or L8nitenoms4me, then you deserve some free internet. Hell, I’ll sweeten the deal, you can come kick back at my place, watch some Maury, and share my bowl of cheeto’s with you. You’re awesome. (warning: you may be asked what technique you use for hair hygiene.)

Alas, my roommate does not think like I do. So, he set up an invisible network that is also IP specific. Long story short, basically everytime I try to get on the internet this is what the router does to my computer: Click Here

But, three days and several post-it’s later, I have my intrawebz back again. Now, if only I could remember my tumblr password…

You know, I’ve been accustomed to doors for quite some time. I’ve opened them, closed them, painted them, unhinged them, broke them…  and, why, I’ve even ran straight in to them. So, I’ve always thought I had a pretty good handle on the operation of a door. Wrong. Fail again. Jeremy, you really need to just stop functioning altogether. Sincerely, life. ❤

So, my roommate, in his infinitely superior door knowledge left me, the entrance neophyte, a little hint (an operators manual so to say) on how to operate one of the most confusing of all doors: a screen door.

And to think for the past, oh say, 18 years of my door opening career I’ve been pawing aimlessly at the door screaming until it opened. What luck!!! All I have to do is lift the hook thingy out of that loop on the wall?!?

For my entire life I’ve only been able to use doors that:

  1. Are already open
  2. Somebody opened for me or
  3. Open automatically

This is generally how I have to handle a door that is not one of the above three:

I now have great hopes to conquer those doors that have turny handles on them. Wish me luck, dear friends. Wish me luck.

Mustard 4 meh

Hello friends of the intrawebz!

So, I know that most of us have had, at least at some point, a roommate in their live. And, not all of said household compatriots have been, how should we put this in the most delicate way possible… normal?

Said roommate seems great at first, maybe a little quirky but quirky is good, right? After all, nobody likes  bland world… Perhaps the roommate was your best friend at some point. Frendz 4eva, right? Wrong. No. Greatest err in your thinking. U fail. Normal is pure win, but you are now stuck with strangest person. Ever. <– (please note the definite use of a period)

Welp, I worked as an RA (resident assistant) for the university for three years. I figured with my experience with roommate mediation, building community, and constructive criticism that I could conquer any roommate… and yet another err in my thinking. Thanks genetics that I’m bald… with my rate, thus far, of successful thought processes I’m not even sure I could comb my own hair.

Anyway, the purpose of this little blog is two fold.

  1. Allow me (and hopefully you) a venue to in which release our frustrations of said roommate.
  2. Approach the whole situation with a little bit of humor. I mean, we’re stuck with this character for the next few months… (Pretty sure the word “lease” is a synonym for “temporary death to sanity”)

The current roommate that I posses isn’t terribly weird, creepy, or even aggressive. He’s awkward. How do I handle somebody being awkward without it being awkward? (Arrrrg, insert infinite loop.) So, instead of addressing the situation like I should. I’ve decided to exploit this whole awkward turtle instead of waking the dramallama.

My roommate’s annoying behavior: he asks me the most bizarre questions. Which is what I will be posting, his strange questions. With a little drawing in paint of my thought process.

Question I received half an hour ago: (Preface: I am 23, he is in his late 20′s)

“Hey, how do you wash your hair? Do you use your fingers or, like, how do you wash your head?”

….um, what?

“Lather, rinse, repeat” has been the technique that I have grown accustom to. Most people use their hands but I suppose you could use a fork and dish-soap, or a spoon and detergent, or a crumpled piece of paper and some Windex, OR a pineapple and syrup,  OR, OR, OOR a small furry critter of sorts and motor oil, ZOMG the endless possibilities!!!11!one! What have I been doing only using my hand or the occasional brush and shampoo?!!3lD

Needless to say, I await tomorrows cleaning with great anticipation!

What sort of fantastical combination are you planning on tryin’ out?