S Party

Last night, Sarah’s hipster/poser boyfriend and his roommates threw an S party–guests were only admitted if they dressed up as something that started with the letter S.

My roommates and I are suckers for themed parties, so we threw together some silly costumes and headed to his house. In spite of the hipster music that is so weird that you can’t dance to it, I did have fun just hanging out with the Sara(h)s outside of our apartment. Some of Jason’s friends were pretty funny, so it was actually entertaining to talk to them while Sarah left us to be with Jason.

As the night was winding down, Sara and I meandered into the kitchen to check up on Sarah. We found her smoking a joint with Jason up against the kitchen counter, which was fine… until she fainted. This happens every time she is crossfaded, so clearly Sarah does not react well to the weed+alcohol combination but she continues to do it anyway.

After she had collapsed onto the floor, Jason, her adoring boyfriend, just stood there… staring at her. Sara and I were like, what the hell is he doing?! We didn’t know what to do to help her, but Jason is a huge pothead and should’ve been all over it. Of course, he didn’t bother to help her at all. His roommate had to jump in and help us pick her up, offering her water and some bread.

I couldn’t believe it. Here are some S words that come to mind when I think of Jason:

Sleazeball. Skeeze.  Slacker. Senseless. Surly. Slimy. [Full of] Shit.

Sorry. I tried.

Wednesdays

Wednesday is my least favorite day of the week, next to Monday. Probably because Monday and Tuesday took forever and a half to get through, and yet the weekend is the same amount of time away.

It could also be due to the fact that Thursday is trash day, so on Wednesday nights I have to be the responsible (aka nagging bitch, according to the Sara(h)s) one and make sure everyone takes out the trash and the recycling.

Oddly enough, ever since Sarah and Jason got back together, she has been staying over at his place every Wednesday night, leaving the rest of us to empty her trash cans.

The best part is that I always find paper and water bottles mixed in with her trash–so much for being a conservationist.

Heroes & Villains

This weekend my roommates and I threw a Heroes & Villains themed party. It was a ton of fun moving all the furniture around, setting up drinks, and making a guest list. We all came up with really cute costumes and made sure that our guests came dressed up as well. With the typical iPod hooked up to a college student’s stereo system, we provided an awesome dance floor in the living room with easy access to red plastic cups  in the kitchen.

Unfortunately, after about 50 people showed up to our small place and overflowed into the yard, some neighbor called the police and our party was shut down barely after 1 AM. No one wanted to be around a busted party, so the crowd thinned out save our closer friends.

My group of friends and I were just hanging out in the kitchen when I heard someone retch on the other side. I turned around to see Sarah’s friend Paul heaving over our extra large trash bin, throwing up the extra shots Alan had convinced him to take.

“Hey, guys, why don’t you go hang out in the living room while I take care of him?” I suggested to the friends I had been chatting with.

I turned to Paul, “Let me get you some water, hon.”

Sarah walked into the kitchen with Jason (what the hell the kid was doing here after breaking up with her is another story) and asked rather rhetorically, “Are you okay, Paul?”

When he was unable to answer, she put a semi-sympathetic look on her face but correctly assessed the situation–someone else was handling it–so she left. 30 minutes later, Paul was only able to sit up with Alan’s support but still couldn’t open his eyes fully.

“Paul, you shouldn’t walk home tonight. I’m sure you can stay on our futon,” I offered. Victoria’s friend had donated a futon to our house, but it didn’t fit anywhere except Sarah’s over-sized room so we left it there for her to throw her massive warddrobe on.

“Sarah, would it be cool if Paul stayed on the futon in your room tonight? I don’t think he is okay to walk home….”

“Um, actually, Jason is going to stay over tonight so…” Sarah hesitated.

“What? Jason can stay over tomorrow night, can’t he? Paul is your friend and he can’t get home!”

“I’m sure he’s fine. He just needs to sober up some more,” she said dismissively.

” I know you want Jason to sleep here tonight but I think Paul needs it more. Otherwise I guess we can put him out on the couch,” I tried to convince her again.

“Yeah, put him on the couch or something,” Sarah huffed. “Well, if you don’t need anything, I’m going to bed.” She turned around and went into her room with Jason.

I couldn’t believe it. Paul is Sarah’s friend. Jason broke up with Sarah and is now back for booty. And she picked that little shit over her friend? Glad to know where her loyalties lie.

The Evidence Says I’m the Best Dinner Date Ever

I had been raving about the desserts and live jazz at a French cafe in the city for some time, and I had really wanted to take the Sara(h)s because they both are francophiles. This week, Sarah couldn’t make it for some reason (probably hanging out with her crappy non-boyfriend Jason) so Sara and I went by ourselves.

Of course, Sarah flipped out over the fact that we had decided to go without her. I’m sure that meant that she loved going out to dinner alone with me a few days prior so much because I’m the best date ever, not that she’s self-centered and believes no one should be allowed to go anywhere without her… right?

No Two Week Notice

So I’m not sure whether anyone would be surprised to hear this–Jason broke up with Sarah today. Yes, after having asked her out just over two weeks ago. Sarah, of course, is heartbroken since she has been pining after this kid for over half a year now. We have no idea why he broke up with her, just something about “not being ready” or some other typical guy reason. The poor girl was so upset today that I decided to take her out.

One of my co-workers recommended this restaurant in the city, so I called to make reservations for a late dinner. Sarah and I decided that even though it’s October, we’d put on our dresses and heels and head out. Dinner was fabulous! I usually don’t mind spending a little more than average on a nice meal though I feel bad when I encourage others to do the same… but considering how much Sarah spends on her clothes, this wasn’t too big of a deal I don’t think. We splurged on three courses and drinks, and it was so, so worth it.

Sarah had such a good time that she even asked our incredible waiter to take photos for us, and her stride to the door had a definite bounce in it.

“Hey, Roommate,” Sarah said on the way home, “thanks for taking me out tonight. I really needed it.”

It feels really nice to be able to make my roommate happy, especially since whatever I do is hardly ever good enough for her.  Hopefully this was genuine happiness and not just her vulnerability talking.

Roommate Adventures

Yesterday, Sara and I went adventuring–to a historical monument in the big city next to us. I had invited Sarah to come along, but being pre-med, she didn’t care to visit local attractions unless they involved surgical instruments. In fact, she expressed her disdain for our planned activities rather vehemently, where I just ended up shrugging off her attitude and headed out with Sara.

It was actually a pretty fun day of roommate bonding. After taking three forms of public transportation to get to the monument, we were sorely disappointed to find out that tickets were sold out for the day. Instead of dwelling on our misfortune, Sara and I took the opportunity to explore the touristy area that she hadn’t gotten to do before. We ate some greasy local food and hit up all the sweet shops on the block.

After consuming several oversized pieces of taffy, I experienced what it was like to be six-years-old again through a little something known as the “sugar high”. Sara and I giggled like kids all the way home despite having to wait 45 minutes for the bus. All in all it was a pretty good trip, and I really hope that it makes Sara value me more as a friend. It’s times like these that make it okay for to just trust my roommates and consider them my best friends, not only because we live together, but also because we know some significant things about each other–and we can have fun together too.

Competitive Streak

Freshman year, when Sara was in a particularly competitive class, she turned on one of our good friends who she saw as competition. Behind Eliza’s back, my roommate made snide comments about how she didn’t want to study with our floormate because she didn’t want to give Eliza an edge in the course. This attitude really rubbed me the wrong way; perhaps because I’m not as competitive… but also because it was a 400 person course! One person is not going to affect your class standing.

Either way, after seeing Sara’s conniving side last year, I wanted to avoid the same course track. Neither of us had shared our registration with each other until the day before the semester started… and unfortunately, we wound up in the same class. A month into the course, we have a massive reading assignment, except that the book I ordered online still hasn’t arrived yet.

“Hey, Sara, since your discussion is later on in the week, and mine is on Tuesday, could I borrow your book until after my discussion?” I asked her.

“Ummm, maybe your copy will come in the mail today,” Sara replied without meeting my eyes.

“But, erm, haven’t you already done the reading?”

“Yeah, but I think I’m gonna need the book all week.”

“Okay, that’s cool,” I tried to respond nonchalantly.

You’d think that after I went out of my way to buy her an extra copy of another book we had to read last week and giving her my notes from the lecture she missed, Sara would be in a more reciprocative mood. I guess her competitive nature only compounds the one-way relationship we already have going on.

Gross-eries

B.C.E. (Before the Consumption of Everything in sight)

2: number of times a month we bought groceries before Hannah moved in

32: dollars the three of us contribute to the household food supply every two weeks

192: our normal food expenditures per month

Cue Hannah moving in

16: number of days Hannah has lived here

4: number of times Hannah has gone grocery shopping

163: total dollars spent on her shopping trips

40: how much she is charging each of us for “our portion” of the groceries

70: percent of the groceries that Hannah has consumed by herself

518: post-Hannah total food expenditures per month

I don’t know how else to put this, but Hannah’s eating habits are disgusting. It would be more acceptable (to an extent) if she didn’t expect us to fund her obesity.

Don’t get me wrong, our house isn’t full of super thin freaks–we just eat normal portions, and we try to keep the eating-the-frosting-straight-from-the-can to Grey’s Anatomy nights only.

It’s About Time

Jason, Sarah’s hipster crush, decided to ask her out tonight. The boy finally steps up after hooking up with her during finals week last spring, and then leaving her hanging for five months. For some odd reason, I can’t see this is going to go very far. I just don’t trust a guy who thinks it’s okay to call a girl up or to peace out on her whenever he feels like it. As much as I am irritated by Sarah’s habits, she doesn’t deserve to have this guy jerk her around, and I know that that is exactly what is going to happen. Better get the chocolate ready.

Icing on the Cake

After the last cake fiasco, Sarah decided to bake cupcakes this week. I would usually object to her using the kitchen (because she never cleans up after herself, surprise, surprise), but I figured cupcakes = individual portions = I actually get to eat some this time.

After spreading the vanilla icing on top of the moist chocolate cupcakes, Sarah left the tub of icing to hang out on its own–knife sticking out of the opened canister and all. I decided not to clean up after her this time, so I just let the icing sit on the counter for two days, making a mental note not to eat anything else spread with the now dust-infused stuff.

I came home yesterday to find the tub gone. Awesome! The Queen of Laziness has finally learned to pick up her crap! Then I noticed the empty can in the trash can, while Hannah was sitting on the living room couch (exactly where she was when I had left six hours prior)… eyes glazed over at the TV, spooning globs of icing straight from a new tub into her mouth.

I can’t decide if Hannah’s insatiable consumption problem is good or bad for the cleanliness of our apartment….