As I’ve previously mentioned, I love living alone. For all kinds of reasons, but one of the biggest ones is that I get to do whatever I want without judgement. Did I really just watch four episodes of Law & Order SVU wearing nothing but a headband and bathing suit bottoms while eating freeze pops and microwavable corn for the third time this week? No one will ever know.
Though eating frozen food naked while watching trash television is the bees knees, I sometimes seriously miss having roommates.
My Southie years were unreal. I lived with two roommates; one of whom married my cousin and the other who is my third sister. We literally hyphenated her name at a young age and I’m fairly confident she may have changed her birth certificate to reflect that. My cousin’s wifey is super fun, but also way more mature than Little Sis and I. Example: she would come home after work, go to the gym, make herself dinner and maybe read a new book or catch up on a show.
Little Sis and I? We’d have wine for dinner and then scrape the bottom of our purses for change and walk to Stop & Shop to buy giant deli pickles. One time, I woke up with her in my bed dressed as a bumble bee and I was cuddling our toilet seat cover. I wish I was kidding.
Malden Roommates? Oh man they had me at my prime. I refused to eat anything other than Popsicles and brussel sprouts every night for two years and demanded to cook while listening to nothing but Christmas music. I was pretty much always drunk because I was going through this weird phase..I think the phase was that I was always drunk..but whatever, that’s not important.
Send me to the store to buy dinner? I’d come home with toilet paper, US Weekly and three bottles of wine. I also drove through the garage. Like literally through the door. I just left my car there, walked in like nothing happened and totally forgot about it until the next morning when my roommate came in and asked why my car was inside the building. I don’t know, Al, why is the sky blue?
I came home with two bunnies once and tried to convince one of the girls it was her idea. She didn’t buy it.
I even created a game, that went on for weeks, where I would hide this giant plastic great white shark I got in a drink on Bourbon St in New Orleans all over the house for them to find. I’d hang it from their bedroom doors so it would fall down when they woke up, put it in their underwear drawers and even in their food sometimes. I live for games that only I can play.
Living alone can be tough because I don’t have anyone to play tricks on but myself. And that’s just not the same. Also, pick-a-flick Friday’s on Lifetime are lonelier (if that’s possible) and I don’t find people on my bathroom floor anymore (Ali).
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Okay, so, no word of a lie I was just sitting in my apartment writing this when the fire alarm went off in my building. It’s fucking freezing out so I contemplated going down with Weymouth Commons but decided against it since I haven’t yet met Zac Efron or gone great white cage diving, and holy shit now I REALLY wish I had roommates.
The people that live in this building are straight up out the “people of Walmart” website. One woman came out wearing nothing but a tank top and spandex, holding an electric drill. Like, of all things to save from a burning building, you fucking chose a drill? How about your purse, or pictures of your family, or I don’t know, some fucking pants?
I just..I don’t even know. But if I don’t wake up tomorrow – Hippie; publish this so my audience knows how I went. And find the woman with the drill, because it was most likely her who took me out. And she’s probs single so let Ham know.
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