1747: the horror and humorous stories of roommates

I get home from a long day at my second job. I’m exhausted and on the drive home Rob tells me, “Jen’s home..” No biggie, I think to myself that just means ignore her. Many people would ask why resort to this cruel and unusual way of dealing…Well, If I talk to her about 99% of what I say flushes itself out like diarrhea from Jen’s mouth at her place of employment (my old job). End result everybody knows my business without even a peep from myself. Hence, I don’t talk to woolly mammoth Jen.

Then Rob says, “she asked if I was cooking for us or if I was cooking for all of us. So, I told her, All of us”… I sigh out of frustration because this means beating her to the food, a race to my starvation or not. For further explanation let me tell you…eating with Jen is like eating with a clan of some indigenous tribe tasting mcdonalds for the first time. She will eat until she’s had at least three servings if she can scrounge that much, while everyone else is still on serving number one. The meaning of leftovers doesn’t exist in her vocabulary or dictionary. She could quite possibly put a all-you-can-eat buffet out of business if she wanted. That is exactly how much this girl can devour.

As we drive home, I kinda sigh out of frustration and just let it ride while forgetting about it.