"The Hugh Hefner E! True Hollywood Story starts at 8," really means, "I want to watch a History Channel documentary about Jesus and Judas?"
It's true. I had no clue either until the other day when I walked into the house at 10 minutes 'til 8 (having planned my day around watching it) and announced my intentions to my remote control-hoarding roommate and his girlfriend.
He replied, "I've already seen that, like, twice."
First off, maggot—no you haven't, because it's a new True Hollywood Story. (Hello! Any true fan knows that 8 pm Sunday evening is reserved for the new THS's!)
Second, I don't care if you had seen it. I haven't and I want to. So, why don't you go on ahead and curtsy into your room with your chick and watch the TV in there? I would do the same except that I don't have a TV. And I can't breathe because there's no windows in my room. And, my room is the size of most peoples' closets. And, well, I hate you. Do I really need any other reason? The mere fact that I expressed interest in the show means you need to make concessions to let me watch it, seeing as how making such concessions would require no more than you changing locations in which to snuggle. Puke. Proceeding to flip around until you found something that vaguely catches your interest (Jesus versus Judas!) is not what I am implying. You clearly had no 8 pm plans, asshole.
And, third—while I'm at it—I'm beginning to hate your girlfriend too. My suggestion is one that I, in her situation, would have suggested to my disgusting, spineless, "I'm the king of my domain," insecure boyfriend. She is beginning to remind me of my grandmother—who, when my grandfather would wrongfully degrade someone with his limited opinions—would sit closed-lip like a good 1950s housewife, even though she most likely had a better solution.
And this, my dear, is why you let him yell at you to the point of tears (Bonus: In front of Cesar and I!) last weekend for no good reason other than he's trying to make himself feel like a man. Or, as Chosen would say: "He's like one of those lizards that puffs up its neck to intimidate people."
As you can tell, my roommate and I are getting along famously again.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
3 comments:
You need to move. It is funny though. We all have our roommate stories. We had this guy Mickey from Moldavia (that's like sub-Russian standards; I've been to Russia, it ain't pretty), he'd eat your donuts, for example, and then offer you a bunch of radishes in return. I kid you not.
"Thanks Mickey! I just smoked this huge one and now I have the munchies, mmm radish..."
I've always found that passive aggression works really well. Had I been you, I would have done the following:
Gigi: Can I watch THS?
Asshole Roommate: I'm too busy being an alpha male, sorry.
Gigi: Okay, then I'm going to watch it in your room, that is, if you don't mind. Do you have a problem with crumbs in your bed?
It totally works. Causes animosity, but at least you you get to do what you like while you hate each other.
Everybody give a warm welcome to Kate!
Kate is the mastermind behind Logged Hours, which I've linked to on my homepage. But, enough with the shameless plug...
Your advice is right on. However, I usually opt for revenge rather than passive aggression. You know -get him where it hurts. For instance, the other night (after the THS incident), I was out with his girlfriend's bestfriend. I casually mentioned how my roommate constantly talks about other chicks behind his girl's back, tries to grab girl's asses at bars to show off for his friends and how I couldn't handle having a boyfriend like him.
I assume this will get back to his girlfriend soon enough. At that point, I'll mention that he should have let me watch my Hugh Heffner show. Bastard.
Post a Comment