No one else will possibly enjoy these stories as much as I did- this is more for documentation purposes. Like a scrapbook of words. I guess that is my purpose for this entire thing.
My roomates are wonderfully...funny (among many other great attributes). The other night I was in my room and they were in the kitchen. I heard them whispering but didn't concern myself with it, as I was having an unusual productive spurt. I suddenly heard a weird crash and lots of ambiguous noises that sounded bad. Nicole started screaming OH MY GOODNESS ARE YOU OK RACHEL? in an extremely dramatic voice. She kept yelling. Finally I thought, " hmm...maybe I should check up on them". As I got up from my exercise ball (a.k.a. the desk chair- which is currently deflating due to a slow leak), Nicole cried " Kara KARA come HELP!". For some reason I wasn't very worried. Maybe it was Nicole's tone. So I walk out and there is a plastic plate on the floor, broken completely in half. Both of my roomates were laughing hysterically, and I was very confused.
Turns out they had been planning a scene to scare me and have me come out of my room. They couldn't find anything else that would make a loud noise but not break, so they used our plastic plate. (BUT it broke nonetheless) When I say plastic plate, I mean it entirely in the singular sense. We own about 50 mugs, 30 bowls, and a plate. Not a microwaveable one, by the way. You have to use a bloody potholder to take it out of the microwave without suffering 2nd degree burns. (Ok so there are really three plates, but the two non broken ones are the size of my fist.) Somehow Rachel managed to break the plastic plate. Fear not, plates have been bought since then.
Only my roomates would accidentally sacrifice the plate for some laughs. They are silliness embodied.
I can't say I am much different, though.
I really love them.
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We had a fly problem recently. This problem is resolved thanks to our stalking skills. We don't even own a swatter, so we had numerous rolled papers with fly-gut splatters on them. I always enjoyed walking into the kitchen to see Rachel unmoving...in a wide-legged crouched stance. She immediately shushed me to let me know she was fly-stalking. Then WHACK. She was the best fly killer I have ever seen. My role model, in fact.
Due to the newfound personal space I need around my ear, it was especially disconcerting to wake up to a fly buzzing around it one morning. I think I screamed a bit.
I wasn't the best fly stalker, but I tried. I think it was particularly awkward when I was getting dressed one evening and a fly threatened to violate my earhole. I went into killer mode as nightmares of previous flying bugs crept into my mind, and immediately began swinging wildly at him with the shirt I hadn't put on yet.
Note: t-shirts do not make good fly swatters. there is an obvious air resistance problem.
It was during one of my serious predator-like pauses to re-sight the intruder when I realized, hey...I am naked. I am running around my room flailing a t-shirt in all directions..AND I don't have clothes on. Good thing my door was closed.
Anyway, I think I weakened the fly's strength significantly with my wild t-shirt swings. He probably got very dizzy with those compound eyes and all.
At least all the flies are all gone now. We conquered what was our rightful territory, and the fly kingdom lives no more.
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I came home from Austin to find that my toilet was clogged. This is the third time it has been clogged... and NONE of them were when I was home. This can only mean one thing: there is a phantom pooper in our house. My roomates fereverently deny that is was them, so I figured it must be a sticky-pooped ghost. clearly.
It remained clogged for sometime seeing as I was not aware of any plunger in the house. I usually managed to just go at school, or when I was desperate run upstairs to the roomate's bathrooms. There was one night however, when neither of these things would have worked. A major dilemma I was caught in, seeing that both of my roomates were asleep and I was feeling a need. I considered going upstairs, but it was either wake them up, or leave them with a present for morning. Neither of these options seemed considerate. (their bathrooms are right off their rooms and have no doors.)
There is alot of construction going on right next to our home because they are building more or our homes. This seems unrelated until you realize that construction workers need a place to go potty too. That is right. a portable place. (just across from my front door.)
I did in fact get dressed to venture out into the night and brave the port-a-potty. This is how much I love my roomates. There are two blue plastic utilities sitting across the way, and so I timidly approached. After looking about furtively, I held my breath and opened the door in a pained, slow manner. My foot lifted to go inside.... and then my body said no. I couldn't do it. It was too dark and suspicious and awful.
So I went back inside and held it 'til morning.
I am sure you are thrilled to hear it.