So I've got this roommate. Although technically, we're more like flatmates. We both have single rooms, connected by a kitchenette. For the first time in college, I have my own room. But this isn't to say that
His name is Suffain. Or Suffein. Or possibly Snuffleupagus. Whatever his name is, I just call him "Buddy." This may be why he's constantly rolling his eyes and saying "It's pronounced ---" But I just stop listening at this point and start humming the new Keith Urban single to myself (Can't get enough of "I Told You So." Classic Urban). He's a 5'7" Malaysian with a receding hairline and is currently studying English. Not the literature. More like "how to speak it." He's also a Muslim, which scared me at first. Not because I thought he was going to poison me with Anthrax or something like that. I know that not all Muslims are terrorists (just most of them). I was just worried that we'd get into some kind of philosophical debate which would hurt our living arrangement.
Well, since he can't speak English very well, we've avoided that one. The only way in which his religion gets in the way is that he has to was his hands and feet before each prayer. This means that around 1am, I'll be awakened by the sound of the shower head.
This isn't to say that we have an unhealthy thing going. Not at all. It doesn't make me want to go back to the wonderful days of Matt Harmon. We don't have any problems, nor do we have any great times. No running gags, no practical jokes. We've never winged each other at the bars, nor will we ever.
But we're currently engaged in a series of passive agressive battles that neither of us has acknowledged yet (which is another battle in itself).
First off, we've been out of toilet paper for the past two weeks. Normally, I'd man up and buy new rolls, but this is different. When I left for my caving/skiing weekend, there were 4 rolls left. When I came back, there were three sheets left. That loses you about a dozen man points. If you lose control, you replace the roll. That ain't new!
So that's why I refuse to buy anymore until he does. And I promise you that I can hold out longer. How? I'm resourceful. I'm like MacGuyver in the bathroom. Give me a tube of toothpaste, a shower curtain and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and I can survive for weeks.
Secondly, the trash can in the kitchenette hasn't been emptied since I arrived. I've taken my room trash out a couple times, but I'm not touching the gigantic garbage heap. This one isn't an act of protest. This has nothing to do with anything that old Snuffy has done. I'm just lazy. This one is a little bit easier to live with than no toilet paper. But when the sun hits diaper mountain, I get the hell out of the kitchen. I've been in this dorm for going on six weeks. We'll see who cracks first.
Overall, I've got no real serious qualms with Buddy. But the semester is young...
-MGD
That's what she said of the day:
(While fishing a friend's hat out of a puddle)
Everytime I do someone a favor I end up soaked!
His name is Suffain. Or Suffein. Or possibly Snuffleupagus. Whatever his name is, I just call him "Buddy." This may be why he's constantly rolling his eyes and saying "It's pronounced ---" But I just stop listening at this point and start humming the new Keith Urban single to myself (Can't get enough of "I Told You So." Classic Urban). He's a 5'7" Malaysian with a receding hairline and is currently studying English. Not the literature. More like "how to speak it." He's also a Muslim, which scared me at first. Not because I thought he was going to poison me with Anthrax or something like that. I know that not all Muslims are terrorists (just most of them). I was just worried that we'd get into some kind of philosophical debate which would hurt our living arrangement.
Well, since he can't speak English very well, we've avoided that one. The only way in which his religion gets in the way is that he has to was his hands and feet before each prayer. This means that around 1am, I'll be awakened by the sound of the shower head.
This isn't to say that we have an unhealthy thing going. Not at all. It doesn't make me want to go back to the wonderful days of Matt Harmon. We don't have any problems, nor do we have any great times. No running gags, no practical jokes. We've never winged each other at the bars, nor will we ever.
But we're currently engaged in a series of passive agressive battles that neither of us has acknowledged yet (which is another battle in itself).
First off, we've been out of toilet paper for the past two weeks. Normally, I'd man up and buy new rolls, but this is different. When I left for my caving/skiing weekend, there were 4 rolls left. When I came back, there were three sheets left. That loses you about a dozen man points. If you lose control, you replace the roll. That ain't new!
So that's why I refuse to buy anymore until he does. And I promise you that I can hold out longer. How? I'm resourceful. I'm like MacGuyver in the bathroom. Give me a tube of toothpaste, a shower curtain and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and I can survive for weeks.
Secondly, the trash can in the kitchenette hasn't been emptied since I arrived. I've taken my room trash out a couple times, but I'm not touching the gigantic garbage heap. This one isn't an act of protest. This has nothing to do with anything that old Snuffy has done. I'm just lazy. This one is a little bit easier to live with than no toilet paper. But when the sun hits diaper mountain, I get the hell out of the kitchen. I've been in this dorm for going on six weeks. We'll see who cracks first.
Overall, I've got no real serious qualms with Buddy. But the semester is young...
-MGD
That's what she said of the day:
(While fishing a friend's hat out of a puddle)
Everytime I do someone a favor I end up soaked!
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