May 2010 06

I hate knowing that when my roomate comes back with her bf and friend, and bags of mac and cheese and hot dogs-which by the way-so gross and fatty-who the hell likes that sh*t, I'll admit I like my Kraft but really-its no wonder that one day this girl just dies of hypertension or heart disease. That's besides the point.

I hate knowing what this all comes to-food left out on the table and dirty dishes everywhere except the sink, possibly pans with crud burnt on-its nothing to her, she couldn't possibly give a f*ck about cleaning this sh*t up and making it usable for the other person who's living here. I know later I will have to see this sh*t and if they're here not be able to put it in its proper place and satiate my need for a decent living space. I'm glad the semester is ending and I'm moving because damnit I don't think I would be able to take another month of it like this.

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