I got me a special guest blogger today.
And by ‘special’ I mean ‘velvety.’
And by ‘velvety’ I’m not really sure what I mean.
Sometimes I confuse myself.
Today, the wonder that is Lilu from ‘Live It, Love It‘ has graced me with a guest spot.
Lilu is hilarious, and – based on their conversations – her boyfriend and I may be separated at birth.
I have a scar on the back of my head that I don’t know where it came from.
So it’s entirely possible.
If you don’t read Lilu’s shit (literally, in some cases), make sure you bookmark her.
You won’t regret it.
Here is Lilu’s post for me – an oldie but a goodie.
Thanks, Lilu!
Enjoy, everyone.
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Email from Lilu introducing the piece:
“FYI, it’s from a year ago, before I met B and I was living with two hellish girls. Time flies… when you want to sterilize your roommates just to make sure they never procreate.
Feel free to quote me on that.”
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Can We Just Drop All the Pee-Pipe Stuff Here?
I love my apartment. I love the location, I love my room, I love the view. The only downside to the three bedroom is that one of the bedrooms used to be a parlor, and the two bathrooms are inside the two original bedrooms. So, when Roommate 1 (we’ll call her Greeny McCruncherson, as she was from Oregon) wants to pee, she has to walk through my room. Normally, I could care less about this, as I am a relatively sound sleeper, and I get to try out all of her products in the bathroom.
Now, there is one situation where this can get tricky… and that is, of course, the with the appearance of the “overnight guest.” Greeny McCruncherson of course feels uncomfortable barging into my bedroom when I’m sharing my bed with someone, or maybe she just wants to avoid getting an eyeful of drunk, awkward white people mating. (Understood.) Anyhoosits, one particular evening this exact scenario occurred… and took an ohsointeresting turn.
It was a couple hours into the bedroom-portion of the evening when I received her angry text, “It’d be nice if I had access to my bathroom…” Seeing as we had already, um, ‘had relations,’ I quickly responded for her to come in, that the coast was clear (all hairy testicles were either packed away or under the covers). She entered quickly, occupied the bathroom for five or ten minutes, and stalked back out again. I felt sorry for making her uncomfortable, but I had no idea how truly bad it was…
Until the next night, when we were smoking cloves out the window of the living room, because we’re klassy like that (or too lazy to go downstairs, whatevski). Being an extremely talented bartender, I had made us some amazing margaritas, and consequently, we were feeling just lovely (smashed) as we were discussing (making fun of) Roommate 2 (it’s okay, she was racist).
I then realized that I had not yet filled in Greeny McCruncherson on my own adventures of the “overnight guest” evening, which involved him getting a bloody nose at a very, uh, inopportune moment. Let’s just say his muff-diving skills could have used a little less… fluid. Nevertheless, no sooner had I finished lamenting the sex that wasn’t (good) than she had cut me off, “Oh, you don’t even KNOW.”
Greeny McCruncherson: We had all that wine at dinner, and I really had to pee, but I figured you were sexing it up in there and I didn’t want to walk in. I had asked the Racist Roomie if I could use her bathroom for the night, and she said, ‘sure, of course!’ and then slammed her door shut. Seeing as she hates me, I didn’t really think it was worth barging in there, since she was probably naked (gross) and would bitch about it to you the next day.
Me: Right, so that’s when you texted me…
Greeny McCruncherson: Yeah, and I came in and went into the bathroom, but then I couldn’t pee! I had stage fright, just knowing that your “guest” was like 10 feet away and could hear me. I was sitting there forever, but it wasn’t happening, and being in there so long was getting embarrassing too. So finally I just gave up and walked out.
Me: Ha! That’s hilarious. I mean terrible! I had no idea… so what the hell did you do? Go in Racist Roomie’s room?
Greeny McCruncherson: Nope.
Me: You… ohmygod. You didn’t. Holy shit, you peed in the kitchen sink.
Greeny McCruncherson: I had to! I didn’t have a choice!
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA That’s awesome! How did you get up there??
Greeny McCruncherson: I just jumped up and sat down! I didn’t know what to do… I thought about going outside, but I’m not very good at popping a squat.
Me: I know, I always end up peeing on my feet.
Greeny McCruncherson: Me too! The sink was the only option.
Me: Eh, whatevs. It’s all drains anyways!
And of course, I was reminded of “The Wife” episode from Seinfeld, where George pees in the shower at the gym…
ELAINE: Since when is a drain a toilet!?
GEORGE: It’s all pipes! What’s the difference?!
ELAINE: Different pipes go to different places! You’re gonna mix ’em up!
GEORGE: I’ll call a plumber right now!
JERRY: Alright, can we just drop all the pee-pipe stuff here?
Indeed, Jerry. Indeed.
Mental Poo 