23rd
A Proper Farewell to The Roommate
The Roommate moved out last weekend. I doubt this is his “Best of,” but let’s blame Twitter search’s crippled memory for that. We’ll call it his abridged guest appearance tweet-reel.
[New Roommate next week. Proper (noun) name TBD. Suggestions welcome.]
Awoke this morning to discover that The Roommate and I are *both* working from home today. Evidently, the cat feels the same way I do. (via brightkite)
The Roommate: “I’ve refined my work-from-home routine. I log in at 8 o’clock, turn up my IM volume, then lie in bed until I hear ‘OO-loo.’”
The Roommate saunters by, audibly emitting a long, drawn-out fart.
Me: “…..”
Him: “Cropdusting.”
Me: “Did you -steal- this JUMBO roll of TP?”
The Roommate: “Yep. From my old job; Years I’ve had it. That’s vintage TP.” #recessionroll
The Roommate: “Mmmm, chicken tikka masala must be the best thing to ever come from India.”
Me: “Yeah. Or the Buddha.”
“So, is that pizza for breakfast, Arby’s for lunch, pizza for dinner?”
The Roommate: “My body is a theme park.”
Excess rages. The Roommate, consecuting 5 Heroes episodes, laughs over stacked speaker cabs at my ice cream.
Yes, this is The House of Girth.
[Life note: The Roommate practices in excess of a month, auditions, and secures the role of Randy Rhoads in an Ozzy Tribute band. Yay.]
The Roommate is taking a bubble bath while belting out “Mama I’m Comin’ Home!” at the top of his lungs. Excuse me while I eat this pie.
These 400 Ozzy Tribute fans have no idea The Roommate serenades the cat with Extreme’s “Hole-Hearted” in just boxer-briefs at home.
The Roommate double-booked dates tonight. I matched socks.
Accidentally dropped The Roommate’s hairbrush in the toilet. We’ll see if he actually reads my tweets.
