Psychotic cat has some sort of bowel condition

Dear blog,

There is something horribly wrong with my roommate's cat's digestive tract. I don't know what kind of sewer this cat has been eating out of, but there is no way this odor is normal.

Our house has what I believe is called an open floor plan. This means that the kitchen, dining room, and 2 living rooms are all different parts of a single open space. It is no exaggeration when I tell you that one nasty little cat log is enough to cause involuntary retching to any occupants of all 4 of these rooms.

To make matters worse, what do you suppose this disturbed feline does after delivering the goods? Does he obsessively bury his droppings like a normal cat? Hell no! He does his sinful business and then scrambles away from the payload like it's going to try and stuff itself back in!



One day, I will bury him.

Thank you.

Renege: To fail to carry out a promise or commitment.

Dear blog,

My roommate got angry about a recent grocery bill and decided to "succeed from the union" so to speak. Meaning that he's no longer involved when it comes to sharing groceries. Not a problem... he doesn't pay for them, he doesn't eat them. Fine.

I like to think I'm a pretty decent cook. Sometimes I actually amaze myself. This was the case when I made some stew out of leftover Thanksgiving turkey. Initially I was liberal about sharing my delicious stew. As my reserves dwindled, I grew a bit more stingy about it.

Yesterday, this particular roommate asked me if he could have some more of my stew. (I already offered him some on the day I made it, so he knew how delicious it was.) I told him that I was running low, but would let him have some of he washed the dishes. He agreed and began fumbling around with the mountain of dishes in the sink.

A few moments later, as I was heading out to run some errands, I noticed that he was no longer tending to the dishes and was sitting in the living room enjoying my stew.

When I returned later that evening, this was the scene in the kitchen...

Now, I wouldn't go so far as to say that my roommate is a liar and a thief... but hmmm...
He claimed that he was going to wash the dishes in exchange for the food that he neither paid for, nor helped prepare.
He then enjoyed the food and left the sink full of nasty dirty dishes.
So what's that make him? Oh... that would be A LIAR AND A THIEF!!!

Thank you.

[UPDATE]
The roommate in question claimed that he had to go to work, which was the reason why he couldn't do the dishes as promised. OK, that's understandable. I interpreted this claim as a promise to fulfill his obligation the next day. However, I grossly underestimated just how dastardly this thieving liar actually is. He has once again left for work and the disgusting pile of dirty dishes remains untouched.

The leaning tower of rotting pizza

Dear blog,

Upon returning home from a weekend of travel, I made a rather interesting discovery. Apparently my roommates did a little redecorating during my hiatus. I feel like a bit of a hypocrite now, because I can recall a few times in recent history when I suggested that they might not be contributing quite enough effort for the better good of the household.

I can't say that I would have done things exactly the same way... what do you think?


Yes I admit, the soda and beer boxes provide a sort of homey charm. Sure, I can imagine that making a Jenga-like game of adding a can to the overflowing recycling bin would provide a unique challenge.

The thing I can't get on board with is the leaning, plastic, drawstring tower of garbage.

Who knows what kind of rancid, biological in nature, and most likely very stinky liquids that bag must contain!? This bag appears that it could topple and expel its contents all over the floor at any given moment!

It truly amazes me that my roommates don't just shit in the corner like ferrets.

Thank you.

The Cat from The Exorcist

Dear Blog,

There's a serious problem in this household. This problem is caused by a certain overweight feline. The cat in question's given name is "puddin'." However, due to his physique, I feel that the trailing g simply cannot be left out. Take a look for yourself...

The cat that ate the cat that ate the cat that I like to call Pudding.

Apparently this cat's insatiable hunger can never be satisfied. My guess is that when the cat's already basketball-sized stomach fills up, he doesn't take this as a cue to stop eating. The result, as you may have guessed, is an epidemic of regular regurgitation.


At any given moment, while minding your own business in our house, you may be treated to the violent retching sounds emitted by this abomination.

Pudding doesn't discriminate when it comes to where he does his grazing. He mosies from the dog's food bowl, to the other cat's food bowl, to the kitchen floor and then repeats throughout the day. Pudding is rather open-minded when it comes to his vomit receptacles too. He's been known to lay his burden down on the couch, on my roommate's bed, on the carpet, on the tile, on the rug - you name it!

Since there's no stifling the intermittent bile storms that Pudding unleashes, the best thing you can do is try and get him to the tile before he hurls. When you hear the first rising signs of Pudding's pre-rumination ritual, there is absolutely no time to waste! You have literally 3-7 seconds before the payload is delivered.

I try and try to coax him from the carpet and on to the tile before it's too late. I am seldom successful. I can't tell you how many times I've witnessed this manner of horror while in the middle of eating my breakfast. There is nothing more wretched, disgusting, and unappetizing than a the violent throes of an overweight feline purging his engorged abdomen.

Thank you.

Out for a midnight swim

Dear Blog,
I know that you're probably sick and tired of hearing about the front porch. I wouldn't be reporting on the sad state of affairs unless they had indeed grown sadder. Let's have a look!

Oh my! It appears that a rather dirty, shirtless and
shoeless individual has spontaneously combusted!

What manner of scum are these mysterious pants covered in?

Before I show you the final piece of evidence I have gathered, let me tell you what transpired.

I was awoken by somebody mulling about in the middle of the night. Being blind as a bat, I didn't see what the hour was. I got up to get a glass of water and saw that the noise was indeed caused by my roommate, who was brushing their teeth or something with the bathroom door open.

The next morning, my other roommate was leaving for work and said "you should take a look at the front porch." When I peered out the door, I first noticed the mysterious trousers. Upon closer inspection, I was horrified to find this...

Your eyes do not deceive you.
Next to the carefully draped and completely swamp-covered jeans,
there are men's boxer briefs and a pair of socks.

I'm no lawyer, but I don't think that just because it's 4 in the morning, the neighborhood becomes a clothing optional type situation.

When confronted about the events leading up to the alleged streaking, the roommate was paraphrased saying this:

"I was hanging out with this girl I met at Eclipse and she wanted to go roll down a hill. We left the club and I found out that she meant it literally. We were rolling down this grass hill, I went too far and landed in a retention pond. I cut my knee and can barely walk."

The wound on my roommate's knee was very gnarly to say the least. The thought of a fresh wound soaking in the questionable contents of a retention pond was almost nauseating.

The roommate in question fell unspeakably ill a day or two later and was quoted saying: "*Hack! Hack! Cough!* Ugh! Which one of you fuckers got me sick?"

Sure, buddy. It was probably one of us, not the parasites, microbes, amoebas, and algae that undoubtedly poured into your every orifice.

At any rate, this blog is not called the stupidity of roommates. So, here's where the audacity comes in. The swamp covered clothes were found later that day in the bathroom draped over the side of the tub. Sounds perfectly sanitary to me! The next day, when said roommate fell puzzlingly ill, he or she absconded to the abode of their parents to be nursed back to health.

For me, this was great news. Nothing against this person, but if they are sick and want to contaminate somebody else's house, more power to 'em!

As I was adding chemicals to the hot tub in preparation for a visit from my lady friend later that evening, I realized that the swamp ensemble had once again relocated. The nasty draws and socks were now draped over the table next to the hot tub, where they'd undoubtedly stay until this roommate was off their death bed!

I had to go to my happy place, as I hurriedly tossed the offending garments into the garbage can.
Thank you.

I am Kim's smirking revenge

Dear blog,

Ask your roommate to shave your unsightly back hair, and you may end up like this poor sucker!

I seem to have become the designated shaver in this household. Apparently dudes shaving each others backs is considered "gay." Please refer to the photo. I don't think he will be asking me again.

Thank you

Nurse Ice Queen

Dear Blog,

If your roommate ever has "something" removed from their body, hopefully they can reach it to change the bandage! I have had the pleasure of assisting my roommate with the provided image. *cringe*

They expect me to bite the bullet and assist them with things like waxing their asymmetrical back hair, changing their unreachable bandages and shaving their "neck burns." Since I'm such a great friend and roommate, I oblige with a smile, but God forbid I mention "tampons" in front of them!

Thank you

Why clean it if it's just going to get dirty again?

Dear blog,

We have lived in this lovely home for nearly 2 years now. One of my roommates is unfortunate enough to have a rather nasty oil leak in their car. The roommate in question has made empty promises when confronted about tending to the eyesore reminiscent of the Exxon Valdez spill that is slowly consuming our driveway... correction: the driveway we are RENTING from some soon-to-be angry homeowner.

Time for some journalistic photos...

In this shot, you can see just how big and beautiful the oil slick is.
I think it really brings out the green in our lovely lawn. I'm sure our neighbors would agree.

Upon closer inspection, you can imagine why said roommate is hesitant to do absolutely anything that might result in the removal of this masterpiece.
I think I see a pair of dolphins frolicking in the sea.
Oh, and over there near the bottom... I see a bouquet of pretty flowers!

About 6 months ago, after hearing me nag on numerous occasions, this particular roommate did acquire a scrub brush and a bottle of degreaser from their father. These items were intended to be used on the Exxon Valdez spill prior to pressure washing it. Perhaps 4 months later, the oil spill was growing in a menacing fashion while the bottle of degreaser and scrub brush continued to sit in the garage collecting dust.

One fateful morning, I was feeling particularly motivated. I brandished the jug of cleaner, wielded the mighty scrub brush and dove straight into the black hole in front of our house.

I know it was naive of me to think that if I did the hard part of the cleanup job of the mess that is in no way, shape or form, my own, that this roommate would take the initiative to perform the remaining part of the job.

Now, 2 months down the road, the monstrosity has returned to its former stature. Hell, it may be larger, bolder and more dangerous to local wildlife than ever! At any rate, all the work I did was for naught. The damn thing needs to be degreased again before it can be pressure washed. Every second that passes allows the oil to sink deeper and deeper into the porous concrete. Every new drop that lands on top spreads the ogreish amoeba further across the face of our landlord's investment.

I can almost hear our deposit shriveling in the distance.

Thank you.

The saga continues (and never ceases for that matter)

Dear blog,

I overheard myself mention the other day that this blog has had a therapeutic effect on the inhabitants of this domicile (myself included.) I explained that posting on this blog has made us all better roommates and that is the reason for my recent hiatus from posting.

This morning, I found myself eating those words.

Let's have a look, shall we?

What is this? A place where a bum sleeps?

Nope, couldn't be... I doubt any self-respecting bum would leave their full pack of delicious cigarettes and lighter behind. What other clues can we find?

Well, if Rain Man were here, he's say something like "There are definitely 132 cigarette butts, 2 half empty cans, 2 empty cigarette packs, one plastic bottle, and 37 days worth of ashes. Definitely 37 days worth of cigarette ashes. Ten minutes to Wapner!"

I don't know what cigarette smokers eat. I don't know how they reproduce. What I do know is that they were born to turn front porches into absolute pits of squalor.

Thank you.

A very sloppy murder

Dear blog,

Today I walked out to the mailbox and was horrified to see what I could only liken to a scene from the movie "Alien."

After assuring myself that we're not being invaded by tiny aliens, I deduced that this macabre display could only be the scene of a slug's grisly murder.

Now, I'm no slug advocate. I think they are pretty vile little creatures. I'm not a fan of the little trails they leave all over the sidewalk either. However, I must point out that the perpetrator in this case had the balls to commit the murder, but lacked the sense, consideration, and decency to clean the nasty shit up!

Here's an idea... why not knock the slimy little sap OFF OF THE EXTERIOR OF OUR HOME before you turn him into a giant loogie!?

Thank you.

Blog Award: Over The Top

Just a quick note to thank my loving mother for hooking us up with this award!


I know that the stipulation is that I participate in what the blogging community refers to as a meme, but I'm afraid I can't bring myself to do it. Besides, I think I have to wash my hair.

Thanks again Ma! Love ya!

Shoes Betch!

Dear blog,

I have a lot of shoes for a guy. Many of them are used for specific sports such as racquetball, biking, etc. Many others are just shoes. I guess I don't wear them out very fast because my job has me barefoot at my desk all day?

At any rate, when we moved into this house, I put my shoe rack in a communal area for us all to reap the benefits of. There's no way that every shoe that the 3 of us own would fit in the rack. I suggested that we only put shoes that we wear frequently on the rack, and put the third string footwear in our respective bedrooms. As a result, my room has become a veritable minefield of various shoes. It doesn't help that I have a king sized bed stuffed into such a tiny bedroom! But I digress...

The reason for this post is to inform the world about, yep you guessed it... shoe rack abuse!!! Take a look at this photo. Placed neatly on the rack are 2 pairs of my shoes. Scattered all over the floor in front of the shoe rack, as though the shoe rack has projectile vomited, are the shoes of my lovely roommates.

You almost made it guys... just 2 more feet and you're there. (no pun intended)

Thank you.

Morning Thunder: A Cry for Help.

Dear Blog,

I am very concerned about my dear roommate's health. I have weighed out the possibilities and truthfully, I think he must suffer from a rare illness. No human is designed to expel this amount of gas! I guess it could be the intake of fiber that he eats in a given day. Our pantry contains at least 10 high-in-fiber products at all times, that only HE consumes. I'm talking cereals, yogurts, granola bars, crackers... every single one of them reads "Fiber One," "75% of your daily fiber," or "colon blow!" I am really starting to think that he enjoys his flatulence. My dog, cat and myself have all been victims to his anal acoustics on several occasions. This can not go on.

Thank you.

Room temperature

Dear Blog,

We have concluded time and time again that 77 degrees is as low as we need to set the thermostat in this house. The reasons for this are rather plentiful. First of all, it's a nice, comfortable temperature. Secondly, this house has vaulted ceilings, which make it more expensive to cool. Also, the air conditioner is confirmed to be bottom of the line, and is therefore very inefficient. Finally, we aren't effing rich, so we need to at least TRY and minimize the monthly wallet floggings by the utility company.

The thing that absolutely boggles the mind is that, despite our agreement and despite the numerous reasons for reaching said agreement, SOMEBODY KEEPS SETTING THE THERMOSTAT TO 75 DEGREES!!!! Sometimes it is set EVEN LOWER!

I don't know which roommate is guilty in this case, but I'm relatively certain that the blame rests squarely on the shoulders of the one we have come to affectionately refer to as "The Ice Queen." Fortunately for her, lower temperatures slow the decay of corpses.

Thank you.

Words fail me

Dear blog,


Why?

Thank you.

Technically unsound

Dear blog,

My dear roommate captured a video of me busting out one of my amazing musical displays and posted it here for the world to see. However, the dumb hag marked the video as private, so whenever I try and play it, it won't display.

She will pay dearly for her insolence!

Thank you.

The thin line between a homeless man and my roommate.

Dear blog,

I think a drunken crackhead slept on our porch last night! I may be wrong, but there were several large bottles of what appeared to be "The champagne of beers" still wrapped their ratty brown paper bags greeting me as I left for work this morning.

OH, RIGHT! That wasn't a crackhead at all! It was my lovely roommate!

Thank you.

The wildlife

Dear blog,

My roommate, in a move so blatant it must have been motivated by spite, prepared dinner in a deep fried fashion. Naturally, I couldn't convince myself to partake and went to bed hungry. Not a big deal, it was a little late for dinner anyways. Fortunately, the various critters that find their way into our house did not go hungry, because leftovers and nasty vats of oil were left out all night for them to feast upon.

To be clear, I didn't see any critters or crawlies feasting on the food, but everybody knows that it's this kind of negligence that results in your house being infested by such scourge.

Thank you.

Self diagnosed OCD - A concept rooted in hypocrisy

Dear blog,

My roommates both claim that they are OCD. Let's see what the National Institute of Mental Health says about that disorder, shall we?

Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, OCD, is an anxiety disorder and is characterized by recurrent, unwanted thoughts (obsessions) and/or repetitive behaviors (compulsions). Repetitive behaviors such as handwashing, counting, checking, or cleaning are often performed with the hope of preventing obsessive thoughts or making them go away. Performing these so-called "rituals," however, provides only temporary relief, and not performing them markedly increases anxiety.

One roommate in particular has taken it upon his or herself to allow months and months of mail to pile up on the passthrough next to our front door. In my opinion, this is behavior is completely inconsistent with the aforementioned OCD-like tendencies to wash hands, count, sort, or clean.

Perhaps the roommate in question was referring to a completely different definition for the OCD acronym? Maybe he or she is self diagnosed with "Obtrusive Clutter and Disarray" or "Obviously Cool with Disorganization?"

In a world where everybody strives to prove (in vain) that they aren't hypocrites, some people are completely complacent with the fact.

Thank you

The porch

Dear blog,

The cigarette smokers of this household have really outdone themselves this time. The front porch looks as though it is the home of 2 bums and a crackwhore. There is an inch of cigarette ash, 4 empty packs of smokes, 2 mysterious pills, 2 years worth of nicotine ridden loogie stains and enough paper dick butts to heat a medium sized home all winter long (supposing that the inhabitants were wearing gas masks and weren't killed by the fumes of burning cigarette butts.)

I don't know what it is the drives these sinister scumbags to be so utterly undriven that they can't empty their vile ashtray once in a while. It remains a mystery to me how smoking cigarettes makes people love squalor.

I don't think the cigs are killing them fast enough. I may have to intervene.

Thank you.