somyroommate

I blog. About life.

Tag: cartoon

Gotta Nom!

So I was routing around for some snaffels in the store today and I noticed that there were a lot of “party sized” snack foods sitting around. You know, the super-grando-walrus-endorsed-butter-approved sized portions. Like 2 1/2 pounds bags of candy. The problem at hand?

We all know the vast majority of these “party sized” portions aren’t serving a party…

A little sketch from my tumblr.walrusgrande.com blog

But, I’ll be real with you, ‘Murica. We have a problem.

Now, don’t get me wrong I did get me some of those delectable…delicious…bits of joy and happiness wrapped in colorful unicorn paper. Not necessarily the jumbo sized, but noms enough to make me happeh… until they were gone.

My desire for the “party sized” bag of candy, all for myself. AWL MYNE!!11!!one!!    Left me wondering…  what am I becoming?

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Failboat

You know, you’d think that when it matters the most, I’d be able to be the most awesome-unicorn-approved hero, ever. You’d think.

Well, that’s not the case. The moments that most need a unicorn hero are when I bust out the very best dumassitry

I’m reasonably sure this inability to shoot magical stars and rainbows out my ass on demand is probably why I’m still single.

Not getting what I’m saying?

Let me clarify. You know when you have a crush on somebody, and that somebody is holding up their portion of the conversation in a very clever, witty,  and charming manner… Yet, despite the precedence, when it’s my turn to respond. I just vomit up some vaguely english based response (usually not relevant to the conversation.)

My sub-conscience generally decides that moments like this are best to follow up with an epic action. You know: food in the teeth, spilling something, falling into a bear trap, sharting yourself, eating your napkin, … skillz that would attract a mate.

But, it’s not just these in-person encounters that make having a crush easy. It’s also the utter and  total lack of knowledge about timing.

Being an aspiring comedian, I’m aware of how critical a well placed line can be, or how powerful …. silence…. can be.

Those rules and ideologies melt like soft shit in the rain when I start texting.

I generally continue in a spastic and incompetent manner until the battery on my phone dies… or I delete their number to keep myself from becoming a desperate texter…

But, I have great hopes for the future.

So, here’s to all the people out there like me. Here’s to you, future cat ladies… here’s to us!

Be real with yourself.

Okay, seriously?

Why is the New Year when people decide to post their list of 235978521 things they are going to change about themselves? When in fourteen seconds they’ll end up breaking their commitment… you’re setting yourself for a good hard fail.

I’ll be real with you all.

I’d love to say that I’m going to lose weight. But as soon as I see cake, it disappears:

And sure, I should probably be nicer to people…. but as soon as I go in public some annoying customer service wench is just waiting to death smog me with the newest version of liquid skank butthole perfume. So, to avoid enduring smelling like trollop ass for the rest of the day, I’ll just bonqui my way to a good hard win…

And we all know that everybody’s planning on cutting back on alcohol and the lot… But, seriously, the world is a much more beautiful place when I’m too drunk to think of all the assholes that live in it.

I’d like to make New Years resolutions….but, no! Not me! I’m going to stay the same drunk fatass with a shitty attitude. But, you know what? I love myself for who I am, not who I could be, chins and all.<3

So, to all the people who post one million things you’re going to change this year, when you’re done flirting with Jenny Craig and smelling like Eau de Slut then grab a slice of cheesecake, pick up a beer, and we’ll snarfle at the skinny bitches running from their personalities.

I give you until Valentine’s Day.

Where have I gone? Well, I moved. Yes, I moved out of hell’s butthole and into a wonderful, empty apartment. Roommate free. (gasp)
I’d like to say that my move was painless. Everybody likes moving, right? But, to be honest, I’d rather try to ass handle a porcupine with a pineapple than deal with roommate while moving. It wasn’t easy.
 

And, I’m sure that you remember from high-school vocabulary class that the word “move” is also a synonym for “fucking expensive.”  Sooooo, to pay for my move escape from hell, and newfound expenses therein, I’ve picked up an assload of hours at work. IE, I’ve worked the last thirteen days in a row and this weekend will be my first full weekend off in 6 weeks. Translation: no time to blog life is pointless.
That is not to mention, that you have to deal with all those billing companies during/after you move. Electric, gas, rent, and internet added to the student loans and phone bill. fml. I just graduated college. I don’t understand what these fabled “bills” are. I always figured it was just a way to scare adults into being good.
You know the “better be good or the bills are going to come and steal your money!” kinda thing… I mean, when I was younger, getting mail was the most bomb ass shit. Ever. Who could ever despise getting mail?! No, bills do not exist. College proved this idea: you get free money to make friends and have fun. Just go to class and do your homework… else the bills will come and get you post-graduate.
Clearly I fail at life because I’m getting it handed to me. And, they’re voracious too… sorta reminds me of a fucking seagull. You go to the beach (new apartment) expecting everything to be awesome, sunny, and prettyful. But, as soon as you arrive “they” greet you with ass clenching, ear bleeding scrawking, yell back and you get shit on, and after you’re quivering, shit covered mess, they steals your noms. -> Yes, bills are the inanimate form of a seagull. I have decided.
 
But, I’m finally caught up with all my bills and I have this weekend off. Thus, my grand return… to alcohol. Dear beer, I missed you. 😀

Dear friends,

Worry not, I have not passed into the realm of the underworld. Worse. I was without internet. Life without internet is a like a cookie without sugar. Pointless, bland, and sad for all parties involved. I don’t want to hear any shit about splenda, or sweet-n-crappy cookies being the same thing. It’s not, they’re not. Stop lying to yourself. Grab a stick of butter, watch some paula deen and enjoy life. ❤ Walrus

Anyway, fatassitry aside, have I told you that my roommate is a little on the strange side fucking weird? So, I went to a restaurant the other day, got a to-go box, and put in the fridge… Well, I caught him going through my box of food. Now, I know that you’re thinking: I walked in on him scrummaging through my box. Nope, friend, that is a negative. That seems like it would be the likely case, huh? Walk in, he’s digging through my food. No, that would be too average for my epic housing life. He asked me what was in my togo box. Why yes, my roommate could not figure out what was I had eaten last night so he came up to me (box in hand) and asked me what I ordered.

Okay, first of all, we are not friendly. Do not ask me about my diet. Second of all, stay the fuck out of my food. 99% of the fridge is occupied by his hoard so leave my 1% alone. Kay? Good.

Nope, none of that food is mine. I put my take-out boxes in the upper left corner…. that’s the only reason there’s an empty space there.

It doesn’t just stop there, it can’t just stop there. After I tell him that it’s a guac burger he starts to critique the restaurant that I went to (my burger still in his hand). “Their food is disgusting and you payed way too much for what you got.”

Put my food the down and gtfo.

I will cut you.

So deep.

You know it’s true.

Why, dear friends, are commercials so damn unrealistic? Portions look huge, frozen food looks scrumptious, plastic bags are easy to close, your hamburger doesn’t look like somebody sat on it…. and millions of other examples of lies.

In my exasperation towards awl those lieees I made a little cartoon. This one is about mascara. You know, that tube of black unicorn shit that’ll make anybody’s eyelashes one billion times fuller, sexier, and awesomer…

First of all you see a great commercial that makes you think wonderful things will happen to your eyelashes and all that surround them.

 

I.E. this mascara will make you beautiful, sexy, hott. Fulll lashes. Lose weight. PURE AWSUM!!!11!1one! Epic w1n. Something like that, right?

 

So naturally your (and my) dumb ass is drawn to it in the store. Price no matter. Must buy. NO SUBSTITUTES.

 

... and reality

 

Will the people making commercials just be real with me? Honestly , everybody already knows that fast food looks like something you’d find under a dumpster… but guess what? We still eat it.. And, you  wanna know why? Cause it’s delicious.  Just be real with me about the way it looks. I’m not going to try to convince you that my granny was just voted miss universe. Try not to tell me your shit looks awesome or works miracles. kthnxbai

Plz Aim.

So, most of us learned potty etiquette at a fairly young age. Everybody poops. Wipe front to back. Lid up, Lid down. Flush. Keep it clean. Right?

My roommate missed that memo.

He made one of the most epic bathroom faux pas of all time.

He left some #2 on the toilet seat.

  1. spuckin’ sick
  2. Butt, (pun intended) I can’t help it if this simple equation comes to mind:

I mean, WTF?! How do you miss? How? Does he have multiple openings that make it difficult to guess which one will bestows the gift of organic degradation?
Or, perhaps his post consumer material doorway is slightly deformed… thusly making it difficult to aim…

But, honestly, I don’t give a fuck if he has One Bashillgazillionbatillionmilliontrillion unicorn shaped buhholes. He pooped on my toilet seat.

You know, perhaps, that mundo-super-ultra-grande-ultimate-flaming-hott-nacho-burrito-bean-pizza caused an apocalyptic level shart that ripped your buhhole from your body, suspending every part of your bowel into the toilet. Fine. Understandable. We all have those days. But, wipe it up!

MINE. NO TOUCH-Y

So, I like to think of myself a fairly generous person; I’ve even been known to share noms on occasion… Food, fine, but I’m draw the line at toiletries. I found a pubic hair on my soap today.

Sick. Dear pubic hair, I don’t know how you got on my bar of soap, but never again. You might be thinking “well, couldn’t it be yours?” No, dear friends. I am a well groomed man. That shit be trimmed. No sprawling manscape for me. That leaves one other person in the household. Unless, of course, there is a burglar who breaks into apartments, uses peoples showers, and leaves pubic hair on their soap. Maybe the burglar is in cahoots with the vomit birds. Who knows?

But, I’m just thinking it’s safe to assume that my roommate is pubic’ing up my soap. I mean, dear roommate, I already know that you’re using my toothpaste because I am nearly obsessive about squeezing my toothpaste from the end. No squishing in the middle and separating the paste. You, on the other hand are a toothpaste smoosher. I always find my poor tube of toothpaste like an amorphous lumpy mangled piece of playdoh. Sad day.

How I leave my toothpaste:

Happeh Toothpaste! ^-^

How I find my toothpaste:

Saddey Toothpaste D:

I mean, feel free to use my stuff, but please be sneaky about it.  Let me play the ignorant card. Nobody likes finding a big ole pube in the morning…. especially on your bar of soap. I mean, I suppose some people might like that little gem to greet them in the morning… but, unfortunately, it just made me feel nauseous and unclean. Soap is supposed to make me feel cleaner, right? Perhaps I’ll have to start protecting my defiled soap, and smooshied toothpaste… Cause I can’t have roommate (or the fabled pubic-soap burglar) skeevin’ up my bathroom stuffs.

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?