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Thursday, June 28, 2007

Housemates...Ahhh, the memories!

So... I've been keeping up to date with the misadventures of the mysterious P on and just between you and me, I am strangely fascinated by him. It is comically tragic and has made me pause to remember some of my own shared-house experiences... memories I'd thought buried far beneath carefully manufactured layers of psychosis.

I lived with a gent we'll call G... G, who liked to roam the house in his girlfriends bra and a pair of shorts, liked to smoke pot (I know, it's a shock, right?). He liked it a lot. I once made the mistake of telling him he could eat a can of soup I had bought because he had no food. And that is how it began. Apparently my 'sure, you can have that soup' actually translated to 'take whatever you want when you want, and don't worry about replacing anything, it's my pleasure'. This went on for weeks, even after a number of conversations and intense negotiations where he swore every time would be the last time, it will never happen again he swears. Remember I said he liked to smoke pot, therefore he often got the muchies. One day I come home to discover EVERY bit of food I owned had mysteriously been devoured. No dinner for me!
Now, in my defence, this had been going on for quite some time and my frustration was at boiling point, we had a massive argument and just at the moment where my rage reached fever pitch my cat appeared. I grabbed her and when G turned his back on me, I sprung, dragging my poor poor pussy cat down his naked back. Obviously the fright had made her claws extend because there were 7 freaking awesome scratch marks on his back.
He stopped eating my food, and although my cat avoided me for a few days, it was worth it.

What I've learned when share-housing (not all of which are related to this story alone):
1. A cat is not a weapon and they do not appreciate being used as such.

2. Your housemates' bong does not go in the dishwasher. It takes approximately 5 rinses to get the smell out, and you need to hand clean it twice to remove the residue.

3. Have ONE designated drinks fridge. Drunk people can only count what they see, obviously if you started with 11 bottles of vodka and there are 9 left, no matter how drunk you feel, you must only have had two. And except for the fact that your housemate has been grabbing bottles from the 2nd drinks fridge all night you are probably right. One drinks fridge means you can all keep track and will avoid alcohol poisoning and wishing you were dead the next day.

4. A room-mates guest who prefers to sleep under the kitchen table instead of the spare bed or couch is not normal. BEWARE you will probably get up to see him standing naked at the window waving to your neighbours the next morning and wearing your socks.

5. Do not buy a cheap metal-framed fold out futon couch. It will seem like a good idea at the time as an inexpensive way to put up visitors. You will find over a very short period of time that the support poles fall out the bottom due to excessive wear in the areas where peoples' groins commonly meet and you will only be able to sit right in the middle or to the sides with a lean.

6. Do not freak out if you come home one day to see your new housemate scrubbing the carpet dressed in a pink tutu, white tights and your favorite pink camisole. One day you might marry him.

There are many more lessons I have learned, and a million stories to tell, but I think I will leave it there for now... I must get back and see if P has let loose with more of the crazy!

1 comment:

urbaer said...

The couch was like that when I got there.

The cash register is the best of G methinks... tell that one... and nothing involving red wine...