Dear girl with 12 absenses in my shakespeare class,
I feel kinda bad, seeing as how semester you've been utterly unable to rustle up an entire pair of pants or an adequately-sized t-shirt. So I got together with the rest of the class, and we sponsored a trip for you to the good will, where certainly you should be able to find a reasonably priced shirt that is larger than a 4 year old child, and pants without a hole in the ass. I'm confused, however, how you manage to afford all those holes in your face?
yours, sincerely concerned,
the girl who is tired of seeing the back of your thong and your midriff.
ah, my fucking roommate... we've eliminated the phone issues, but now that thats gone, we're back to the whole Christian/Non-Christian thing.
I'm not a Christian. I haven't been a Christian for 10 years now. And it's not because I don't know about Christ, as she is oh so fond of assuming, it's because I have my own very good reasons for not being Christian, like the fact that I don't believe a word of it. But my roommate, my fucking roommate, last night spent an hour talking about her pathetic fucking life and weaving in constant talk of Christ and Christianity, and how it's the only real Truth, and blah di fucking blah blah blah. I was ready to start hurling shit at her from across the room. WTF? I mean, first of all, I know that not all Christians are like this... there are normal, personable Christian people who aren't like her, and then there are people like her, the ones that say "I'm a Christian" within 10 minutes of meeting you, the ones who make it the very ultimate center of their life and can't talk for more than 10 minutes without spouting off some kind of dogmatic drivel. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my roommate.
This is when I pull out the witch's bible and leave it laying on my bed.
she was raised by a beatnick, in the heyday of the beatnick movement, hanging out with people like Ginsberg and drinking pretentious drinks at pretentious venues before they were pretentious. and so she's very new age, very liberal, very airy and all the stuff you would expect her to be. she's a walking stereotype. she's just as much fluff as you always expect people like that to be.
she imparts these wonderfully revolutionary ideas to us, like that *ghasp* gender is a social construction! and we write these papers for her, and she grades them and comes in a then raves about how we're all wonderful writers. and she admitted that she's intimidated by us because we're all so smart, and it makes me feel bad, because I want really badly to like this woman, and I feel really really really bad, because I just can't. because I've wasted 3 hours a week in this class to not learn anything. and because she has no authority in the class, and every time the conversation lulls, she looks straight at me as if I am the deus ex machina that will somehow save the withering class discussion. there are about three of us that she does this too, but she always starts at me. and some days I just can't do it, and I won't even look at her expectant expression.
so today she flounces in merrily humming as I'm trying desperately to cram many many chapters of The Last Chronicle of Barset into my weary brain and tells me that my friend called this afternoon at 3. That's interesting, seeing as my phone has been locked in a drawer since around 9am. Then she tells me that she plugged in her phone, and I just glare at her for a long few seconds. She goes out and does something trivial, I'm sure, and when she came back I just told her that I don't want her to use my phone line anymore. She said "okay", but she said it too easily, like in that "sure bob, whatever you say, but while you're at class I'll be here dialing 900-numbers" kinda way, so I'm really fucking glad right now that I don't have long distance service at all and she can't really do more than irritate me, and at least if she fucking goes against me telling her not to use it I am fully justified in coming down on her with all my pent up wrath, which sounds really really satisfying right about now.
Whoever told you that wearing tourquise granny underwear under white pants was a good idea, lied. Lied right to your face, and is now probably laughing behind your back as they watch your blue ass walks away.
Now, I realize I'm not the most fashion conscious person in the world, and I have never claimed to be, but I do know that what you are doing is wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong.
I suggest killing that person so you don't make the mistake of listening to them ever again.
I swear I am going to inflict bodily harm upon my roommate. last night at 3am she actually asked me from across the room if I could cough into my pillow because it's keeping her awake. lets examine the circumstances, shall we?
- this is the same girl who answered my fucking phone at 4:30 am, and of course it was for her, and she sat there and fucking talked on the phone in a normal conversational voice for 30 fucking minutes.
- this is also the same girl who has gotten up at 5am on occasion to make phone calls, again while I was trying to sleep, again in a normal daytime conversational voice.
- of course, I am the one who has class at 9am. when does she have class? oh, right, on tuesdays and thursdays only, and even then not until 2fuckingpm in the afterfucking noon.
- this is the same fucking girl who I stayed in the living room to avoid when I was trying to get some reading and other work done last night, and the same fucking girl who nevertheless came out and started fucking cooking and whipping eggs really loudly, and stayed in the fucking cooking and fucking humming to herself for 3 fucking hours while I was trying to read, only to go eat at the cafeteria with her stupid fucking boyfriend, leaving her food on the counter.
- this is the same fucking girl who types like a jackhammer when I'm trying to read, sleep, or talk on the phone.
- this is also the same fucking girl who humms to herself CONSTANTLY. it's fucking like chinese water torture, or like having a razor blade drug ever-so-slowly over the surface of my eyeball.
- this is also the same fucking girl who manages to work fucking bible verses into almost every conversation I have with her, knowing full well that I am pagan and that I don't fucking want to hear it.
I rest my case, and I wager that it is only a matter of days before I completely blow up at her and rip her a new asshole. oh well, dude, I have fucking 20 units and I've been driven to the edge by her ridiculous habits, and I really don't care anymore if I hurt her feelings or offend her.
perhaps it has escaped your attention, but I fucking hate you.
and I especially fucking hate you when you sit there and ask me five million questions about your fucking computer and how to reinstall every fucking thing on it.