How To Handle Bad Roommates

Someone once told me that he who laughs last laughs best. Well, I don’t know if that is true but I am about to find out. My dear roommate thought it would be funny to mess with me by posting questionable pictures of me online.

Sure Jimmy, millions of people are going to get off with those pictures. After all who doesn’t want to see a man reading a newspaper on the toilet. Ok, so it wasn’t the Wall Street Journal or the New York Times but who cares. Really, do you think that anyone is going to think less of me because I like to spend my time in the smallest room of the house reading The National Enquirer.

You never know when it might be useful to learn that the reason Brad Pitt left Jennifer Aniston is because he is really Angelina Jolie’s brother. How many people are cognizant of the fact that the reason why the Middle East is blowing up is because there is a war being fought between the Martians and the Venusians.

Don’t think that I haven’t noticed your passive-aggressive behavior. I may not respond to your little digs but I notice them. I don’t respond because by not doing so I piss you off more. Yes, I know that you hate the lack of reaction. You are like a freaking insecure woman who flips out because I don’t pay enough attention to you.

Has there ever been a man more in need of a blow job than you. I don’t think so. Nor is it my fault that you got arrested for hiring a tranny to take care of that need. Did you ever hear of Hugh Grant? Dude, only an idiot parks their car in a strip mall at 6 PM. It wasn’t dark out and the dry cleaner was still open. What did you think was going to happen.

I wish I could have been there to here you fumble through an excuse. I can picture the little beads of sweat forming on your head and that nervous laugh. Did you try one of your stupid jokes on the cop. Gee officer, I am not sure how that ended up in her mouth, I was trying to help her find a contact lens and somehow it sprung out.

But you are a moron and I am guessing that what prompted your anger towards me is the telephone call you heard between Dave and I. Maybe you forgot but Dave and I are in the process of rebuilding a car. When we were talking about a tranny it wasn’t about your experience but the transmission we need to rebuild that ’67 Camaro in his garage.

Damn, if I wasn’t so strapped for cash I wouldn’t be sharing a place with a dolt like you. I only wish that you could read this because I am typing slowly so that you can keep up. You, my dunderheaded friend made a serious mistake when you came after me with your Cool Hand Luke quote about a failure to communicate.

So let me communicate this. Your mother reads the Beverly Hills Newspaper Daily and she’ll see the following ad with a picture;

For Sale: One slightly used Penis Pump. Not sure when it was last cleaned, if ever. The soon to be former owner is a skinny blond man who was arrested for indecent exposure in a local strip mall.

Of course, I’ll use your cell phone and email address as contact information.

Who is laughing now big boy.

(Editor’s note: this originally ran here but without the photo. Decided to add one and see if it made a significant difference in its reception.)