Warnings to My Hypothetical Room Mate

Moving out of Chez Parental is looming like a beacon on the horizon—for me, but especially for Mom and Dad. I’ve been spending some time exploring possible rentals, cruising neighborhoods, and crunching budgets. And I’m in talks with a couple people about becoming room mates.

Deciding to be room mates with somebody is akin to nuclear disarmament. Each party has their own priorities (namely, the bigger bedroom), their own liabilities (anything from nose picking to loud sex), and things that will call off all negotiations (break one of my Pottery Barn plates and you will die!!!). In the interests of full disclosure and fair dealing, I thought I would try to put my cards on the table.

Without further ado, here are Some Things My Potential Room Mate Really Should Be Aware Of:

On the weekend, I get up, brush my teeth, pee, eat breakfast and don’t progress any further down the cleanliness chart until I absolutely am dragged, kicking and screaming, into the shower, by a small army of elves that are screeching some non-sense about having plans with a friend and personal hygiene being a thing my friend might appreciate if I engage in. Otherwise, I can be found reading a trashy romance novel, in sweats, without a bra on (and yes, I am saving for the boob lift I will consequently need one day). Bliss…

I love American Idol. I know viewing this show each week is causing all the cells in my body to revolt, thereby mutating my eggs so I will eventually produce children with 16 eyes and no toes, but it is worth it. If you try to take the remote away from me when it is on, I will fight you. Ditto Grey’s Anatomy.

While we are talking about TV habits, I also enjoy #1 Single, E! (unless Jules Asner is on), Real World/Road Rules Challenge, anything on Bravo, Jeopardy (and I will yell out the wrong answers as if Alex Trebek could actually hear me), and the FoodNetwork (aside from Emeril and that Rachel Ray chick). Given unfettered TV access, this is what I will watch. Be warned.

I fart.

The Bionic Kitty: She’s a one person cat. She likes one lap, one person to feed her, and one person’s bed. That would be me, me, and mine. If you try to kiss up to her, she will pee on you. She knows who buys her Iams and values the concept of kitty cat loyalty.

I clean. A lot. Especially the bathroom. Mentally, I like to pretend it doesn’t get used and the easiest way to do this, aside from causing constipation, is to clean it often. If you don’t like getting high from Tilex, I am not your ideal room mate.

Eat my frozen pizza and I will know it was you. I’m swift like that. And I will retaliate in a scary passive aggressive manner.

I like to bake. If you live with me, you will have to eat what I make because I refuse. My butt and I are currently engaged in a struggle for Size Determination and I am all ready losing. I don’t need to give it more ammo by eating tempting, high fat baked goods.

I like the toilet paper to come off the top. And about the farting: I always try to give advance warning and you should probably know my butt can sometimes produce a quantity and magnitude of foul gas that rivals an atomic bomb (ok, it usually does). I think there is nothing wrong with mac and cheese and ketchup all mixed together, but tuna mac is just wrong and shall never be made in my presence.

And did I mention I fart?

That’s all I can think of for now. There is probably more. But a girl has to have some secrets, right?


2 Responses to “Warnings to My Hypothetical Room Mate”

  1. Anonymous Says:

    Coming from one who has shared a hotel room with you (windy city baby) – you don’t fart nearly as much as you make it seem. I do remember you giving me fair warning that “red wine makes you horny” – you forgot to mention that…

  2. Katherine Says:

    Lol, I thought everybody knew about me and red wine by now…

    And thanks for the vote of confidence on the farting issue, but we didn’t know each other really well then and I was trying to spare you.

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