My Milkshake

So, I had a doctors appointment today… I haven’t been in for a physical in about four years. And I mean, honestly, what college student has the money to blow on

1. insurance
2. a doctors visit
3. the dentist

Our refund checks are spent on important study tools like books alcohol.

Anyway, so after I wade my way through a shit load of paper, a bunch of face masked grannies paranoid that they have the Y2K virus,  an army of screaming, flailing children, and, of course, the people that are so visibly nervous that it makes you uncomfortable to be around them…. I finally get to the point where I can see the doctor and what happens?

After telling the nurse exactly what I wrote on said shitload of paper, I strip down and put an extra-extra large  paper towel in order to properly present myself to the doctor. (The label on said paper towel said it was “size normal” let’s be real ‘Murica… I could use that hospital gown as a Queen sized bed sheet.) Regardless, I have never (not even when I pissed my pants in fourth grade) have felt so sexy as I did in that moment.

You know, I didn’t get a sucker,  a sticker, one of those flaily sticky hands, or even a lame ass gold star.I was told “you should try to exercise more.” Godammit.

I guess my love of food wasn’t well received. Needless to say, I’m sitting on my floor eating cold pizza and M&M’s. Exercise my ass.

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.

Dear Puss,

So, this is not a post about my roommate but it made me lol so hard I just have to share with y’all.

I got a text from my sister today that said “Look at what mom’s cat did to her croc’s” with this attached photo:

How? just how?

My mom just threw her croc’s out… and the cat is going to the vet.

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?