His name is Moe

Every day that I happen to see my roommate she mentions, but not directly to me, that my cat is fat. She calls him fat cat. He's orange. His name is not Garfield, it's Moe. Morris to be exact. Just because her cat is a female and has a small tail and small paws doesn't mean my cat is fat. My cat is a male, he has huge paws and a likewise huge tail. He's not fat. He's big. To be honest with you though I think she's one of "those people". You know what I mean. The people that like animals when they're small and babies but once they're older they drop them off at some farm. I made a comment on day about how big they were getting and how exciting it was to see them grow. She said, I wish they were still kittens. And she's always talking about them being kittens. Well, I'm glad Moe is growing into a cat. He was an adorable kitten but he's a very handsom cat. And yes, a big cat (I expect him to be between 12 and 15 pounds). So, don't call my cat fat. Especially when you have no room to talk....


calling my cat fat. Jerk.

I'll let you decide...

How much is too much?

I'm not sure if I wrote a post about this but, in case I didn't, I'll give you a quick run down. My roommate didn't get me anything for my birthday. And it wasn't that she forgot, oh no, she did actually wish me happy birthday. But you know, it's not like I need gifts. I'm not going to be like that at all. But the reason I say that my roommate didn't get me anything for my birthday is because well...

My roommate is a pediatric nurse. There was this patient on her floor. He's 19. He suffered from a spinal cord injury and is therefore on a ventilator for breathing support (trach) and has minimal use of his arms. His birthday was a few days before mine. For his birthday she bought him various movies, sweat pants, and a sweat shirt. She also brings him food on regular occasion. She even showed him pictures of our Mexico study abroad trip (some of which I might add shouldn't be showed to 19 year old guys. Call me crazy, but I just don't think drunk bar pictures are a good idea to show work, much less a patient).

So, the other day she asked me, "Where can you get men's earrrings?"
She told me that she plans on buying him earrings. Additionally, she said that she tried calling him the other night (because he was moved to a different care facility) and that she couldn't get a hold of him because it was late and he didn't have a phone in his room so she's probably going to buy him a phone too.

Earrings, phone, cloths, movies?

I like my patients. I'd bend over backwards for them. I will hold their hand as they die. But isn't that a bit excessive? And especially because of the age. I dunno, but if I were a 19 year old male and had a single nurse buying things for me all the time I think I might be thinking something else.

2 for 2 dozen?

A few months ago I was out of eggs. I don't eat any other breakfast foods except for the occasional bagel or bacon, or if I go out and eat some waffles or something like that. So eggs are a staple. After a few days of having no eggs, and no breakfast after work (and might I add no time to run to the store) I asked my roommate if I could have some eggs. What a mistake. Apparently me eating two of her eggs left her for free reign to mine.

I buy 24 eggs at a time. You heard me, 24. I bake with them, I eat them, they go fast. So what I want to know, is what gives my roommate the right to eat my eggs so that way, when I'm working lots of shifts in a row I have NO eggs to eat for my breakfast? Honestly. STOP EATING MY EGGS!

And really, I'm not such of an anal bitch, but I don't like someone who's shitty to me to eat my eggs, much less my last eggs.

Fuck! Fire!

This morning is the morning after working 3 - 12 shifts in a row. I have one more shift to go. Traffic isn't bad. There was an accident on the highway, but nothing major. I get to my house (the door isn't chained so I get it). I step in the house...

Full of fucking smoke!

First I'm thinking, what the fuck. Did she forget to open the floo AGAIN? Then I'm thinking, why the fuck didn't the smoke alarms go off? Maybe the smoke wasn't that bad (besides the fact that it smells like shit in the house)?

I go to the fireplace. One partially attempted burned log, only on the bottom. Some ash. Partial pieces of burned paper. Floo, closed. What the fuck did you try and do?

I'd really like to know how someone can be so so dumb.

Additionally, She asks me if I'm going to clean out the fireplace (even though I cleaned it last time). In the middle of a four day stretch, I'm not doing sqwat except for eating, sleeping, and the occasional shower.

"I'll get around to it one of these days," I say.
"Okay, I'll give it a couple of days," she says.

You'll give it a couple of days? Who the fuck are you?!? Are you gonna slap me on the wrist if I don't? You use the fireplace too bitch (as evidence by my very smoky house and very smoke smelling cat!). You fucking clean it.

Apparently top of the class and common sense are NOT related... duh

She's always breakin my shit. And not feeding the cats. Breaking my shit... not feeding the cats. Hello.

So, one day I put in a request for maintenance. They came that afternoon. I really didn't think they'd come that soon. I work nights. So normally if I'm working my 12 hours in a row I'll sleep until 4:30 AT LEAST! She wakes me up at 2:00 to bitch at me that I didn't tell her about the maintenance guy. This is why she was mad. We have cats. But we didn't tell the apartment people that we were getting cats. So, if they found out that we had them we could be in big shit... well, not really. WE'd just have to pay 200$. Big woop. Anyway, she stuffs the cat's in tthe bathroom. But she doesn't take care of any of the toys, the cat box, or their food or water. The maintenace guy has to step over their food and water to fix the window! I mena damnit, just because you can't see thae cats doesn't mean he won't figure it out!!!

And here's another thing... She broke something of mine again. She broke my wine glass. The one from the perfect set that matches my dishes so perfectly. No note, no nothing... just in the trash. It's because she put it in the dishwasher. What a fucking idiot.. I asked her not to put my glasses or pans in the dishwasher and she does anyway. And guess what. IT fucking broke. I'm getting really really really sick of this shit.

In case you didn't notice, my name is NOT Harry Houdini.

So... I get home from work today. Long night of working. To make matters worse I have to report off to a bitch that hates me and the kicker... she doesn't even pay attention to my report. Hello, can you shut your stupid fucking yap so I can tell you what's up with this guy so I can go home? Gees.

Driving home. Traffic is good. It's Sunday. Why wouldn't it be good? I'm thinking, okay... go home, whip up the stuffing really quick, stuff the hens, put them in the oven and then you only have an hour before you get to go to bed.

Walking up my walkway... unlock door... open door... JAM!

She fucking locked the chain. She locked the chain! So I pound on the door. No answer. I walk around to the back. Thank God we forgot to chain that one off. Minutes later she wakes up.

"You put the chain on," I say.
"I thought you were home."

Now, I work 7-7. Always 7-7. I have no option of working anything other than a 7-7. Why would today be any different? Did you see my car in the car park? Did you see any of my work shit laying around? No.

"Well, seeing as how I got home at 4 it's only been locked for 4 hours." She says.

That's nice. Tell me at what point I care when you got home from work or how long the door has been locked. The only thing I care about is that when I get home after a 12 hour shift that I can get into my fucking house.

Oh, and also, I totally woke up at 2:30 yesterday. Why? Because my roommate loves to watch TV very loudly while talking on the phone. Thank you... but some of us have to fucking sleep.

So I did laundry at 8 am today. The washer is right by her door. And it's very very loud. I think I should run the dishwasher next.

How the fuck did it get in the toilet?

She never feeds or waters the cats. NEVER! I swear! Everytime I come home the cats have no water and no food. How fucking hard is it to water and feed friggin cats? Come on?!?

And, she keeps breaking my shit. I get home from work today, she broke my antenna because she was pawing around behind the TV. I don't mind that she was pawing around back there, but hey! Watch your fucking ass huh? Another thing she broke....

my kitchen timer.


I wake up one morning, to go to work, and I see a note on the fridge. Hey, the kitchen timer is broken. I dropped it in the toilet.


You dropped it in the toilet?!? How the fuck does it end up in the toilet? What are you doing with a kitchen timer in the bathroom. It's doesn't make any fucking sense.

I haven't broken one single thing of hers. Why does this happen? UG!

Moral of the story:
Stop touching my shit
Feed the cats.


thanks.

Don't throw pans.

here's a convo between CB and I about my roomie.

First I want to tell you about another thing that happened.

She had a party at the place while I was working. Came home... place trashed. And they drank all my vodka and wine. Okay, I can see the milk... but alcohol is expensive!

Additionally, she and my ex broke up. The fucker just stopped calling her. Like I've said before, there was a reason I broke up with him. Guess she found out why. Because he's a player...

Here's the convo...



Me: I made my roommate cry.
CB: really? how did you do that?
Me: I confronted her.
CB: ok
Me: yeah. cause I was saying something about her cat. and about how she's not playing with the toy I bought her (of which she's playing with a crumpled up peice of paper like it was going out of style)... and how I think she would do better with an interactive toy. and she was like, "or we could just not buy her anything to make sure she plays with the toys she has... and I was like, well she only has one toy I don't think buying her one more will hurt.
CB: uh...no yeeah really
Me: yeah... like she can force a cat to play with a toy...but anyway.
CB: haha
Me: and I asked her if she took offense to what I said about her cat. and she was like well I'm not going to buy her a toy.and I said, "But that wasn't the question. I asked if you took offense to what I said about your cat."
CB: ok
Me: and she was like, well it doesn't really matter. and then I was like what's been bugging you?and she was pissed because she spent all morning cleaning up the kitchen today because it was a mess from last night. and how she's never seen me wipe off the counters or the stove.
CB: umm...hello
Me: and she was pissed that she had to spend her whole morning cleaning. and I was like, well I cleaned up all your shit the day after you had that party.
CB: you clean it up like every time you are in there
Me: and she was looking at me like, right, what the hell did you clean? I know... it wasn't that bad was it?!? It just pisses me off because instead of telling me what her issue is she huffs about...and she'll be like, um Jen, I don't really think this is a good idea..
CB: no...wasn't bad at all
Me: or what did you leave in the sink? like all accusing. So I brought up the fact that I buy all the major food stuffs. and she gets all defensive like I don't eat your food (but God knows my food's the only damn food in the fridge or cabinet)...
CB: drama at Jen's place
Me: and I was like, look... this isn't the real issue here. we could go around and around about cleaning or food but we both know that's not the real issue. So I was like, you just seem standoffish to me. why are you so standoffish. and she said, "That's a good question..." and then she started to cry. and then she was like, it just bugs me that you leave shit around. you left stuff on the stairs for a week. and I was like, well I have a lot of things going on in my life right now. and cleaning isn't always a priority. and she said, "well I guess our priorities are just different." and I said, "well I have to do what I need to do to make sure I don't fail at my job. I need a job to keep a place.
CB: yup
Me: and I told her that she needs to tell me if something bugs her because I can't read minds. and she said well I didn't think you needed to be reminded to take care of your things. and I said that I don't. But I don't appreciate when she just lets things go... and then she's cleaning, making a whole lot of noise, being all huffy acting like my mom.
CB: did convo accomplish anything or did it just allow you both to vent?
Me: I think just vent. I don't know. why's she gotta be so anal? you saw my place yesterday. was it trashed?
CB: no