(no subject)
I finished writing my 5-minute play, woohoo! I hope that my director doesn't fuck it up. and also that I can succeed in pulling his play off as well. (for the record, he sent me a 14-page play that's supposed to be done in five minutes. great, thanks!)
I found This very amusing. Apparently Jay Leno has been mocking people he shouldn't be! What I mostly like is that after seeing so many middle fingers, the sign loses all meaning, and the people begin to look silly, posing with just a finger raised. I never was a fan of the bird.
It smells like split pea soup in my house. Wonderful! I love cooking.
So, as you all may know, I hate my roommates. The last time I spoke with them it went something like this: "That's being stingy" "You're going back on your word" "That's a really bad thing to do for the house" "well you're not going to get that money from me" etc. Bitches, yes. Bitches that owe me money. It's going on three weeks since that scene, and my plan of action these days is to ignore they exist. In the past three weeks I have seen them, oh, five times maybe? I refuse to acknowledge their presence in a room, and generally they just creep back to their rooms with their gross microwaved mac and cheese and unrefrigerated sauces (I almost puke every time I see the spaghetti sauce in the cupboard). I have not spoken with them at all. Yes, this makes it a little awkward. But refusing to pay for things you said you would makes it a bad situation in the first place. I have accepted that they are bitches, that I will not be getting that money, that they are slobs who are unable to take the garbage out, and that I have no respect for them. Mike and I are in this house for 5 more weeks, and then I will never have to ignore those girls again. because they won't exist. They will officially be dead to me.
In lieu of this situation, the house is less the clean because Mike and I have stopped doing more than our fair share. Then there was: the fridge. Kayla specifically marked a bowl of black beans "KAYLAS" so that, you know, we wouldn't steal her precious, precious beans. Well, that was four, five weeks ago. Behind the tortillas and white molding bologna Mike threw out today, they hide. Rotting. Brewing. multiplying.
Our plan is to let Kayla deal with it- and if that means making her clean out the fridge before we move out, so be it.
We're really just trying to obey her wishes and not touch her food.
Done and done.
I found This very amusing. Apparently Jay Leno has been mocking people he shouldn't be! What I mostly like is that after seeing so many middle fingers, the sign loses all meaning, and the people begin to look silly, posing with just a finger raised. I never was a fan of the bird.
It smells like split pea soup in my house. Wonderful! I love cooking.
So, as you all may know, I hate my roommates. The last time I spoke with them it went something like this: "That's being stingy" "You're going back on your word" "That's a really bad thing to do for the house" "well you're not going to get that money from me" etc. Bitches, yes. Bitches that owe me money. It's going on three weeks since that scene, and my plan of action these days is to ignore they exist. In the past three weeks I have seen them, oh, five times maybe? I refuse to acknowledge their presence in a room, and generally they just creep back to their rooms with their gross microwaved mac and cheese and unrefrigerated sauces (I almost puke every time I see the spaghetti sauce in the cupboard). I have not spoken with them at all. Yes, this makes it a little awkward. But refusing to pay for things you said you would makes it a bad situation in the first place. I have accepted that they are bitches, that I will not be getting that money, that they are slobs who are unable to take the garbage out, and that I have no respect for them. Mike and I are in this house for 5 more weeks, and then I will never have to ignore those girls again. because they won't exist. They will officially be dead to me.
In lieu of this situation, the house is less the clean because Mike and I have stopped doing more than our fair share. Then there was: the fridge. Kayla specifically marked a bowl of black beans "KAYLAS" so that, you know, we wouldn't steal her precious, precious beans. Well, that was four, five weeks ago. Behind the tortillas and white molding bologna Mike threw out today, they hide. Rotting. Brewing. multiplying.
Our plan is to let Kayla deal with it- and if that means making her clean out the fridge before we move out, so be it.
We're really just trying to obey her wishes and not touch her food.
Done and done.