Because I don't ever post here anymore
Most of my blogs are now entered into myspace. Sorry to all of you who actually read this who don't have a clue as to what's going on with me lately.
I'm in a really pissy mood tonight and I want to get some crap off my chest. I don't really care if anyone reads it, much less posts a comment on it. But I seriously hate living here. I can deal with Tom being the biggest asswipe I've ever met and not talking to him for the last three months. But apparently I'm the scapegoat of the house as we wind up towards August here. And all over a stupid fucking pile of dishes. A dispute that could easily be avoided if someone older than I am by a couple years would take responsibility for his shit. When Tom wrote me a nasty letter making baseless accusations a few months ago and decided he was going to be a child about cleaning the dishes, I took my dishes out of the kitchen and put them in my room. This isn't to spite my roommates, because I know that they have plenty of dishes. No big deal. I just don't want my dishes being used and not getting cleaned. I was literally doing at least 2-3 of Tom's dishes every morning before I made my own breakfast. He'd make scrambled eggs and leave the pan on the stove (not even in the goddamn *sink*, mind you) with burnt egg crap in it. Pots half full of rice would be left on the stove for days. Plates with cat food, oatmeal, random other shit - all just left in the sink without so much as a rinse. The majority of this was on my plates, bowls, etc. So every morning, I was cleaning Tom's dishes so that my plates and such could be clean. I thought I had solved the problem for the last few months by taking my dishes out of the kitchen and doing each plate, utensil, and pot each time I used one and placing it back in my room. Apparently not. The dishes have piled up in the sink for months now as Tom refuses to do any of his unless he completely runs out. Tom has known Jon and Eli for longer than I've known them both, and I suppose in that way they feel that they can trust him more than me. Their opinion is obviously shaped by Tom's habitual lying, and so tonight I get home to find a note from Eli on my desk. First of all, my door was closed when I left. I'd like it to fucking stay like that, thanks very much. In this note, I'm being accused of leaving not some, not most, but ALL of the dishes in the sink. Why? Because he's 'seen Tom doing dishes'. Obviously this means that Tom wouldn't just be doing a couple of his, leaving a greater portion of his mess behind, now would it? I go upstairs to actually talk to Eli about this, and Jon senses that this is also his conversation and decides to join in. Even though I haven't even used my own dishes since before I left for my trip to the northeast THREE WEEKS AGO, the ever growing pile of dishes in the sink is still considered mine. I eat salad that comes in plastic containers and sandwiches from my work wrapped in paper or in styrofoam. I DON'T USE ANYONE ELSE'S GODDAMN DISHES!
I'm so fucking fed up with all this bullcrap and I can't wait to move out. Yet again, I moved in with a bunch of assholes.
This is all I'm writing for now. There is more that's on my mind but I just can't stand to be writing it all right now. Fuck this.
I'm in a really pissy mood tonight and I want to get some crap off my chest. I don't really care if anyone reads it, much less posts a comment on it. But I seriously hate living here. I can deal with Tom being the biggest asswipe I've ever met and not talking to him for the last three months. But apparently I'm the scapegoat of the house as we wind up towards August here. And all over a stupid fucking pile of dishes. A dispute that could easily be avoided if someone older than I am by a couple years would take responsibility for his shit. When Tom wrote me a nasty letter making baseless accusations a few months ago and decided he was going to be a child about cleaning the dishes, I took my dishes out of the kitchen and put them in my room. This isn't to spite my roommates, because I know that they have plenty of dishes. No big deal. I just don't want my dishes being used and not getting cleaned. I was literally doing at least 2-3 of Tom's dishes every morning before I made my own breakfast. He'd make scrambled eggs and leave the pan on the stove (not even in the goddamn *sink*, mind you) with burnt egg crap in it. Pots half full of rice would be left on the stove for days. Plates with cat food, oatmeal, random other shit - all just left in the sink without so much as a rinse. The majority of this was on my plates, bowls, etc. So every morning, I was cleaning Tom's dishes so that my plates and such could be clean. I thought I had solved the problem for the last few months by taking my dishes out of the kitchen and doing each plate, utensil, and pot each time I used one and placing it back in my room. Apparently not. The dishes have piled up in the sink for months now as Tom refuses to do any of his unless he completely runs out. Tom has known Jon and Eli for longer than I've known them both, and I suppose in that way they feel that they can trust him more than me. Their opinion is obviously shaped by Tom's habitual lying, and so tonight I get home to find a note from Eli on my desk. First of all, my door was closed when I left. I'd like it to fucking stay like that, thanks very much. In this note, I'm being accused of leaving not some, not most, but ALL of the dishes in the sink. Why? Because he's 'seen Tom doing dishes'. Obviously this means that Tom wouldn't just be doing a couple of his, leaving a greater portion of his mess behind, now would it? I go upstairs to actually talk to Eli about this, and Jon senses that this is also his conversation and decides to join in. Even though I haven't even used my own dishes since before I left for my trip to the northeast THREE WEEKS AGO, the ever growing pile of dishes in the sink is still considered mine. I eat salad that comes in plastic containers and sandwiches from my work wrapped in paper or in styrofoam. I DON'T USE ANYONE ELSE'S GODDAMN DISHES!
I'm so fucking fed up with all this bullcrap and I can't wait to move out. Yet again, I moved in with a bunch of assholes.
This is all I'm writing for now. There is more that's on my mind but I just can't stand to be writing it all right now. Fuck this.