THE DANCE

Sunday morning I woke up on time for work, and really, Really, REALLY needed to take a piss. BUT my Roommate was occupying the bathroom shaving God knows what (coincidentally she was getting ready for church).

So as I saw it I had 3 options:

#1: KITCHEN SINK: I nixed that since their were dishes in there that needed to be cleaned.

#2: GO OUTSIDE: Maybe an obvious option, but I only piss in alleys at night.

#3: CARAFE: A few days prior I took home a very rare beer in a plastic carafe...

So I pissed in it. In my pantry. And when I was done I sent the lot of it down the trash shoot. Classy, I know, but it was mission critical. Those of you who don't share a bathroom with anyone...you have NO idea how good you have it.

MY ROOMMATE IS PISSING ME OFF/DON'T FUCK WITH MY TREE

It's almost the one year anniversary of living with my current roommate; the majority of the time we've lived together has been good, even great at times. Overall, we're still in positive territory. That being said...SHE'S BEEN PISSING ME OFF LATELY.

Nothing major, mostly minor things that when combined with the sudden onslaught of a wicked cold snap (IT'S FUCKING COLD HERE!) has made my ability to let little things like...oh, throwing food scraps, Styrofoam and for all I know The Holy Bible into my much vaunted *Recycling Bin makes me a bit...fucking perturbed.

So, let's talk shoes. I like shoes. Mostly sneakers, and those of which belong to me. All my pairs are neatly lined up in a row in my bedroom, ready and waiting to FUCKING RAWK OUT. Mostly, they lay in wait. Roommates shoes, are spread around in random clumps, all over the fucking place. The other day I was eating lunch and reading the paper at my kitchen table, when my right foot detected a foreign object [see below].

And that's nothing! There are other nooks in our SHARED area with 6 or 7 mismatched pumps, flats, sneakers, boot(s). If we ever re-enacted the American Civil War with our shoes, I would SO FUCKING win. Right? [fingers crossed]

I think if one found oneself on the game show Family Feud, and whoever is now hosting asked you: "What is your biggest Roommate Pet Peeve?", I'm sure the #1 answer would be "bitch don't do dishes". In my case, I go to great lengths to do my dishes, like right after I use them. And in the past I have been fine with doing hers as well...but it's gotten out of hand. I've declared a STRIKE on doing her dishes. As such, this is out sink, and those are her dishes from Saturday night. Fucking. Gross.

I saved the best for last. A few weeks back, Roommate brought up Christmas and shit. She mentioned she wanted to get a real tree, and this obviously made me tense up. I immediately had visions of our apartment going up in flames, or at the least, finding pine needles all over the fucking place.

Besides, I have a decent fake tree, lots of lights and I'm fucking GAY; I can make this shit work. Her response was to wait until I left for work, and she and her friend went and not only bought a real tree (and brought it up the front door-needles all over, ugh) she shoved MY tree rudely to the right.

Biiiiitch, please.

SO. Now we have 2 trees. Just saying that like you're from Chicago, "too dreez" is too much, but I actually have TOO DREEZ!

Clearly the Awesome Tree on the right, with approximately 5,000 lights in MINE. Overkill? Perhaps. There are also 50 candy canes ready to go. It's not only interactive, but edible! That thing on the left, PPFFFFT.

PS-I actually really, really, like my Roommate; but-UGH! THAT BITCH!

*My apartment actually doesn't have a Recycling Bin, but the house next door d

oes, so in cover of night, I try to lesson the impact my drinking has on the environment.

I AM OFFICIALLY AN AWESOME ROOMIE

This morning my Roomie was running around and freaking out because the washing machine in our building was "broken". It was actually just a minor snafu (I love that word) because she leaves for Osaka in the morning and didn't want to fly across the Pacific Ocean commando. Since she was already late for work, I fixed the machine and did her laundry for her.

This is the weird part; while waiting for her underwear to dry I turned on the TV, and guess what came on? The episode of No Reservations where Anthony Bourdain visits Osaka! In said episode he takes in a Osaka (or is it Hanshin?) Tigers baseball game. Oh my, I just gained yet another goal in life, which is to attend a proper Japanese baseball game.

So in return for doing the most menial of chores, I asked for at least a t-shirt to rock for my new found favorite Japanese baseball team. But what I really want is pictured below, which is a fitted New Era 59Fifty Tigers cap from sporting the 1959 logo. That shit is motherfucking TIGHT...but according the currency converter I used, it costs $70. Darn!

I am so, So, SO jealous of my Roomie...Osaka seems like such an awesome fucking city to run around and get lit up in. If anyone in that city reads this, consider this a shout out. You got it going on yo!

ROOMIE THE 4TH

Living with hot doctor guy has been great; we've had a good run but our time together is drawing to a close, and he is moving out at the end of the month. And although I still like him and all, I'm really looking forward to my NEW Roomie moving in!

Roomie the 4th hails from middle of no-where Missouri, he's 28 years old and an ex-Marine. And get this: he's a Cubs fan! Even better is that one of his best friends lives right around the corner from my place.

It's been odd between hot doctor Roomie and I for a few months now; I'm not sure if he's depressed, or still freaked out after seeing me naked, but he's been very withdrawn. He works like crazy and when he comes home he pretty much hides in his bedroom. Days go by where we don't even talk or see one another.

So - it will be good to live with someone I can actually hang out with, have some beers and smoke cigarettes, etc. Subletting is basically a financial arrangement, and I don't need to be best friends with who I live with, but someone a bit more social would be welcome.

MY ROOMIE SAW ME NAKED/GOT LAID!

Yesterday marked 2 important milestones; it was the first time I got laid since July, and my Roommate saw me totally stark naked...right after I got done fucking this guy. OK - this sounds trashy, I know, but I really thought my Roommate had already left for work. So this guy and I were really going at it, like fucking FUCKING (not being quiet).

We finish up and I walk to the bathroom, naked as the day I was born...and my Roommate is sitting on the couch watching TV (which is adjacent to my bedroom), HAHA. Whoops! Thankfully he got a back shot, but it still obviously caught him by surprise.

Anyways, about this guy; I responded to an ad he had put up on-line, and we've been e-mailing back and forth for weeks, met up once before, but last night was the first time we bumped uglies. He's cute, mid-20's, Puerto Rican, sexy lips. I have no idea where this is going, especially since I'm not really in the mood to date right now.

But hey, my arm works! I was worried I would not be able to "perform" with a gimp limb, but I put those fears to rest. I can still fuck like a champ.

Round #2 is about to commence...

FUCK HEALTH INSURANCE, MY ROOMIE IS PRE-MED

When I thankfully was relieved of a job that I fucking hated last fall (FUCK - it's been that long?) I was generously graced with a extension of my health benefits for a solid month. Assholes. Still, I took full advantage of that shit. I got my teeth cleaned, had a physical performed and my eyes checked. Everything checked out. WORD.

But since that time so long ago, I have been without access to proper health care. That's where my Super-Awesome-Roommate comes in. I don't really have "allergies" per se, but the weather has been so fucked up here lately, that I am exhibiting signs of having a latent allergy to severe, and sudden changes in the weather. Thus, when I awoke this morning, my head produced an astonishing array of substances that I will not disclose here.

INT. VINTAGE CHICAGO APARTMENT (DAY)

ME: "Ugh, I can't fucking breathe out of my nose."

ROOMIE: "Oh, that sucks...hang on [rustles through a bag in his room]...here try this, it's called Nasonex".

ME: "Oh, well, um, I usually don't use shit like that, but what the hell [SNORTSQUEEZESNORT]...WOOOOOOO! It's like...my nose works again!"

ROOMIE: "Yeah, that's good shit."

No shit! There was a recent instance in which we both regretted not having each other around for our mutual benefit. After my ride got jacked, I rented Nissan Sentra from Enterprise. This particular vehicle had an unintended option in the form of a jagged piece of metal jutting from the door frame. When I went to close the door *SLICE* went 2 of my fingers. Holy shit. I haven't bled like that since...since I don't remember when.

The next day he inquired about the abortion in our bathroom trash can and asked "did you slice your throat last night?" I explained about my then immobile fingers, and after showing the wounds, he got pissed...because he needs to practice his stitching technique. It's like my own private ER, which for a randomly, injury-prone moron like myself, is rather comforting.

Despite this reassuring presence in my immediate vicinity, I have chosed not to play softball this summer; I know it's a sport for lazy drunks like myself, but fuck if I'm going to break something and pay through the (newly freed) nose to get it fixed, this shall be known as the SUMMER OF LEAST RESISTENCE!

GO CUBBIES!

Last week I fucked up plans that I made with my Roomie; I thought be bought tix for Monday, aka, the HOME OPENER. not true, instead he bought us tix for the game on Wednesday. AWESOME, right? The wrench in this plan was my brother, who also bought me a ticket for Wednesday's game.  

I'm actually glad I didn't buy tix for today's game; when I woke up it was 34 degrees and raining. Typical opening day weather. I didn't bother to awake Roomie, but when he did in fact wake up, almost in perfect time with the delayed first pitch at 2:30, I suggested we go to Crew. 

This is usually my favorite place to see a baseball game; maybe it was the weather, but the place was beat. After paying for our first round, we decided to head for greener pastures, and headed down to Wrigleyville.

Minutes after we exited the L station, I was accosted by a DUDE selling tix. At this time it was the top of the 3rd inning, but I acquired a pair of Upper Deck box seats (retail price: $60 each) for $16 and a Camel Light. Fucking A! These were AWESOME SEATS!

It was cold as shit, but I FINALLY broke my opening day cherry! We won too; beat the Rox 4-0. Tomorrow, Hot Roomie wants to hit up the batting cages, and then I got tix for the game on Wednesday w/ my bro! WOOT! It's not even 2 weeks into the season, and I'm already seeing 2 more games then I did last year.

YOU DESERVE A BLOWJOB: ROOMMATE EDITION

Perhaps it's my warped world view that's clouded with the very real possibility of abject poverty and it's close friend rampant drunken-ness, but there seems to be a dearth of people that legitimately deserve BJ's these days (the one I got last week was a total fluke and I don't feel I actually deserved it. Did I enjoy it? Fuck and yes.)

Anywho, there is a one person in particular I deem to be blow-job worthy. Ironically, he doesn't seem to have any difficulty in procuring said service; regardless, he is a deserving soul, and this man's name is Current Roomie!

In the past I have mentioned that my Roommate is exceptionally hot. Maybe that's because I have always had a thing for Latinos, but there are other reasons. I'll list the more practical reasons in a moment. 

First, let me describe a recent incident. I was typing away at my computer when Roommie appeared leaning against the door frame to my room...nonchalantly licking peanut butter off his fingers while talking to me about baseball. FUCK! Sometimes I think he is trying to give me blue balls. 

Oh, and here's another isolated incident of hotness: one time were sitting around watching UFC when one of the Ring Girl's came out (presumably to reassure the heterosexual audience of men that they are not, indeed gay for enjoying the spectacle of muscular men wearing close to nothing grappling with one another) and he says: "I'm so tired of dating girls like that". GULP. If I were straight that would seem like a nice problem to have. But I digress...

Outside of providing me with masturbatory material, here are the other, REAL reasons why Roomie deserves as many BJ's as he can handle:

-I've never had to ask for a rent check; it magically appears on my desk at least a week before it's due.

-He never, EVER leaves dirty dishes in the sink.

-The garbage and recycling will disappear before I ever get a chance to take it out.

-Perhaps as a result of his fellow doctor friends, he constantly gets free tickets to shit. Example, he already took me (gratis) to a Bulls game and this Sunday we're seeing Watchmen on an IMAX screen. And these benefits are also extended to my friends!

-Last Friday I went on a cleaning spree and he offered to clean the bathroom, which I HATE cleaning (I agreed to do all the vacuuming/mopping/sweeping/dusting - none of which I mind doing).

-We almost never see each other. He works nights and sleeps during the day. Not once has he ever complained about my music or the TV being too loud (though I frequently ask to make sure). 

Bottom line: out of all the bullshit that I've dealt with the last few months, he's never once given me even a modicum of stress. For that I am eternally grateful, and will be glad to express this emotion in the form of daily BJ's. Too bad we don't play for the same team. Sigh.

FINALLY...GOOD NEWS!

Wow, the universe doesn't hate me after all! Within the last 24 hours I got word that I found a (part-time) job and a new Roomie to boot! Details...

For the last 8 months my older brother has been supplanting his income by working as a bouncer/doorman at 2 different bars (both owned by the same guy). Now that he no longer needs the extra money, he successfully talked the owner into passing the "torch" to yours truly!

Obviously, checking ID's and throwing drunk people out onto the street is not my dream job, but it's one that I am more than capable of (oh man, I cannot wait to bounce some douche bag wearing a neckerchief).

I won't get rich with this job, but it will certainly provide me with MUCH needed income, not to mention, I actually think working in a bar will be fun. It's practically my natural habitat after all. Even better, the laid back bartenders give my brother drinks and such, so, there is little downside, as far as I can see.

OK, now, more importantly...New Roomie is scheduled to leave for home next Tuesday. I can't believe it's been 5 months already, and although I will really, really miss him (we became super good friends) I am excited about my New New Roomie!

He's my age, presumably gay, a doctor (actually a Resident M.D.) and perhaps of greatest note....he's fucking SMOKIN' HAWT! Seriously, when he came to check the place out last week, I literally got lost in his eyes. Lame? Totally. But it's true.

That being said, I will maintain (to the best of my ability) a professional/platonic relationship. Even my over-sexed mind can anticipate the potential pitfalls of fucking my Roomie. However, as my bro's GF pointed out "he probably has really hot friends". I hope she's right. But the bottom line is, I found someone cool, responsible and...well, you get the idea.

Can a get a WOOT?

HE'S A BRAVE MAN

The New Roomie has arrived! Initial thoughts...he seems cool, laid back and perhaps a little bit in awe of living in Da Big City. When he first stepped in my place last night, he was looking around, all wide eyed and said "wow, I've never not lived on the 1st floor before!"

He split soon after, and hung out in Wrigleyville with his local friend, and I met my friends at a bar for dinner. After dinner, my friends and I decided to come back to my place to "party with our Canadian friend" as my friend so eloquently refers to as getting high (I have no idea why he says this, but he was probably really high the first time he did).

Anyways, we were drinking and smoking when New Roomie came home with an air bed he's borrowing from someone. I wasn't sure how he would react to my friends. I mean, "C" is a big, intimidating hulk of a man with a Mohawk and "Tex" has a thick Texarcana drawl and sideburns that fat Elvis would have killed for.

And then my "sorta kinda guy" (a guy I've been seeing very casually for a few weeks, we like having "sleepovers") texts me and wants to stop by. Well, why the hell not? I figure New Roomie needs to meet him at some point anyways.

So "Nipple Rings" (my not so creative or subtle name for this guy) walks in. He's skinny, a bit shorter than me, adorable black kid (he's only 22, thus still a kid in my mind) walks in and we embrace, me drunkly planting a kiss on his neck.

Welcome to living with me! To New Roomie's credit, he took it all in stride, and didn't mind that Nipple Rings stayed the night. So far, so good.

AWWW, AIN'T SHE SWEET?

When I got home at 4AM last Saturday Night/Sunday Morning, I checked my mailbox. Inside, there was a letter from the infamous Ex-Roomie containing this clipping...and nothing else.

Gawd, I love that woman. Thanks babe!

NEW ROOMIE ON THE HORIZON?

Well, the grand experiment with living part-time with my Father seems to be drawing to an early, premature close. He's not going to be coming to Chicago every few weeks anymore, so it makes no sense for him to contribute towards my rent, as he has no real need for a place to crash in the CHI.

That means I need to find a new Roomie, and quick, as there is no way in hell I can afford to pay the full rent on my own and maintain the somewhat decadent lifestyle to which I have become accustomed. To make rent on my own, I would have to significantly curtail my social life, not buy new clothes/shoes or become a hustler, and none of these options are viable.

The situation is far from dire as I have until the end of July to figure my shit out. My first thought was to inquire amongst my friends about anyone they may now that needs a place, and I have one potential prospect at the moment. But if that falls through and no others develop, well, Hello Craiglist!

I could hit the Random Roomie Jackpot and find a cool guy or gal to share my place with, one whom does not me occasionally walking around in various states of undress and/or drunkenness, but I much prefer a known quantity, even if it's one that I don't know personally, but know through others. This should be an interesting plot twist for the Summer...

PS - It's so FUCKING HOT in Chicago right now. Ugh, I need a cold beer.

HOW DID I SPEND THIS MUCH MONEY?

My big goal for today was to retrieve a bunch of kitchen shit from my Father's storage unit. See, Roomie owns all the pots, pans, dishes, forks and such and we planned on moving that stuff out today, and my Father's surplus kitchen stuff in.

Once I got to the storage locker, I quickly realized why my brother had not been returning my calls. It seems he got there before I did, and took all the kitchen shit for his new place. Damn. I then went to Target thinking I would only drop around $50 on new kitchen shit.

That was not the case...

Fuck! When I was in line I realized I would break the $100 barrier, but I didn't think I would get so close to the $200 barrier. Damn you Target! I bought some non-essential things, but still!

At the least, the new shower head is going to be awesome. And I finally have matching plates and glasses.

And the Cubs won today! WOOT!

ROOMIE = NAWH'BORIE?

I'm not sold on it either. Not the concept, but my lame attempt to create a new blog nickname for my soon to be Former Roomie...and New Neighbor.

See, we've been living together for close to 3 years. That's a long time and although I won't get into the reasons we are no longer going to live together (hair in the shower drain, incessant alarm clocks, boyfriends that wear ponchos) this change is sure to be a positive one..

We've had a Great Run. I think it's safe to say that both our lives have changed significantly since we've moved into together, in many awesome ways.

Along the way we've had our ups and downs.

I've locked her out more than twice; I've cleaned up many a pile of cat shit or kitty puke (holy shit - right after I typed that I heard one of the cats faux-puking in the other room).

Needless to say, this has been a mutually beneficial experience.

And now, the next chapter of our friendship begins, rather appropriately during the dawn of Spring. Roomie's new placed is just down the street, only a 10 minute walk.

This is so AWESOME!

Me, I'm staying put. And I got New Roomie lined up...he's a gay man in his late 50's, and we share the same initials...that man is my Father.

He's still going to live full-time in the NYC-area but also come here a few days every few weeks for work.

This means that 95% of the the time, I'll indulge in 900+ square feet of 1920's era Chicago 2-flat, and for the time he spends here, Father will pay approximately 1/4 of the rent.

Plus utilities (kidding!).

In the interim, this place is going to change in subtle and not so subtle ways. I'm excited, it's like an almost blank canvas, and I get to play with it!

Also, the transition with Roomie's new Roomie moving in down the street, and her gradually moving out/my Father moving a few things in...this is like the Perfect/Ideal Scenario!

BEST. ROOMIE. EVER.

Work today wasn't necessarily rough, but it was a Tuesday, which even the average ones entail dealing with far too much bullshit at work, and this one was no different.

Anyways, when I got home, I put the dry cleaning away and took off my shoes, then went to the Fridge for some water. Upon opening the door, the light turned on to reveal this...

Apparently the Roomie had made herself a rather strong Jim Beam & Coke, then got an urgent call on her Bat Phone yet still had time to write this note.

How lovely...THANKS ROOMIE!

SOME SHIT I LIKE, SOME SHIT I DON'T

For whatever reason I find myself incapable of completing a blog post of any true substance, so I thought I'd take a moment on reflect on some shit I like and some shit I don't right now...

1. Home Alone

Not the movie, but living alone. While I was in Denver, Roomie left to embark on another archeology adventure, so for the past week, this week, and the next one I can walk around naked, leave empty beers cans where I please and blare RAWK in the morning while I get ready for work. It's pretty fucking awesome.

2. Masturbation

This might go hand in hand with #1 (pun intended) but on Sunday afternoon, I took a break from being lazy and got busy with my Right Hand Man. Not sure what happened, but I managed to give myself an EPIC orgasm. To paraphrase a line from "Fight Club", "I haven't fucked myself like that since High School".

3. Edgewater Produce

I loathe the Dominick's near me (for you non-Chicagoans, that's our version of Safeway, and it blows). It's expensive, the produce is awful and the shelves are frequently empty. So, on Sunday I went to a little neighborhood place called Edgewater Produce. I got 3 huge, tasty tomatoes, 2 onions that made me cry, 1 pound of turkey breast, 1/2 pound of cheese, 2 cucumbers, a head of lettuce bigger than mine, a loaf of wheat bread, 20 fresh tortillas and a bag of taco cheese. For $17 and change. Fucking TITS!

4. Top Gear

This is one of the most popular shows in the world, though largely unknown in the States. Basically, it's a weekly, hour long program produced by the BBC, and it's all about cars. I just watched an episode where the 3 presenters flew to Miami with a challenge to buy 3 cars, for $1000 each. They then drive their jalopies to New Orleans and get fucked with Red Necks in the Florida Panhandle. Needless to say, it's amusing. Also, I have a crush on Richard Hammond.

5. A Clean Ride

The weather was so awful in January and February I neglected to get my bitch washed. It got so bad on the inside that said "fuck it" and started smoking in it. But leaving work last Thursday, the weather was nice and I couldn't take the mess anymore, and I stopped by a hand wash place. For $10, a team of guys scrubbed both the exterior and interior. It looks like new and no longer smells like smoke.

Now, some shit I don't like...

1. The Litter Box

Seeing as Roomie is not around to clean the Cat's Shit Box, this glamorous task is now mine. A long time ago I had 2 cats, but Roomie's 2 cats produce an astounding amount of piss and shit. I think they produce more "waste" than I do, and my shit don't stink like their's does. Just tonight I cleaned out the Shit Box, and recoiled in horror when I took the lid off the damn thing. Gross, disgusting, obscene...

2. Car Payment(s)

When I checked my bank account the other day, it seemed I had too much money in there. When I got my monthly statement from my lessor, I realized why; the payment I scheduled last month never went through, thus I had to make a double payment. Rather than having an excess of funds, I have quite the opposite now. This fucking sucks.

3. Bro's New GF

Until about a month ago my older Brother was dating an awesome girl, but for whatever reason, their relationship ended after 2+ years. On Sunday I was introduced to the reason why, and her fucking name is fucking "Heather". Ugh. She wears bright red lipstick, dresses like a Skater Boy, and from my limited exposure, she sucks at life. I love my Brother, but sometimes it amazes me we're from the same gene pool.

4. Sleep

It seems the more I get the more tired I am. Last night I turned out the lights around 11:30 (anything before Midnight is early for me) and despite the 8+ hours of deep sleep I got, I woke up exhausted. What the shit is that? Not cool. I could chalk it up to the shitty weather today, but really, that shouldn't matter. Tonight, I intend to stay up until at least 1AM and see if that helps.

5. Dealer's

Who do I have to blow in this city to get a bag of weed? Not like I'm jonesin' but it would be nice to be able to get high, bump some Jay-Z while making dinner and retire to my Front Room and watch some of the Netflix DVD's that have piled up. I suppose I can do this sober, but really, getting high in the comfort of your own home and watching some shit on the tube is pretty fucking great after a long day of work. Call me back shady dude!

Well, there you go...a brief insight into my life as of now. On the balance, I'm pretty happy with things, but that doesn't mean I can't bitch once in awhile too. After all, I am a white American male, and as such, prone to complain over stupid shit.

BY GOLLY, I GOT IT!

Recently the Roomie and I have decided that when our lease is up at the end of June, we will be parting ways. In an effort to preserve our friendship, we both came to the conclusion that after almost 3 years of co-habitation, we need to live in different households.

This is a good thing. Neither of us are the easiest people to live with, and when you live with someone for a significant period of time little things start to bother you that didn't before. It's not as if you no longer are fond of one another, but little pet peeves tend to take on lives of their own...

So, seeing as she has already sown up her next move (she's moving in with a mutual friend of ours) I need to get my shit together. The options are obvious, I could seek out another Roomie, or get my own place. If I could afford it more easily than I could now, the decision would be easy, I would choose the latter.

What I really want to do, is to stay in my current residence, and if possible, without another Roomie. I love my apartment...while it lacks in amenities (not to mention water pressure), it's got character, as any place built in the 1920's should...plus, it just feels like home, and I am reluctant to leave it behind.

Problem is I would have to come up with at least another $500 every month to fill the void. I have floated various ideas to bridge the shortfall. Prostitution, running numbers, converting Roomie's bedroom into a methlab; however, seeing as I am not chemist, nor a criminal, none of these ideas have left the drawing board.

Just last night I was hanging out with a buddy, shooting pool, drinking and in general doing what guys do on Tuesday night...when a sudden flash of inspiration hit me like a bolt of lightning!

I realized the perfect Roomie was present, right under my very nose...

Now, I now what you might be thinking. "Hey Justin, that doesn't look like a Roomie that can split the rent with you! Are you mad?"

And to you I say, "no, I am not!".

Think about it, my friends and I L-O-V-E to shoot pool. At a buck a game, my New Roomie could easily generate the revenue necessary to replace current Roomie's contributions.

There is ample space, as this place is huge when compared to most apartments. Fuck, there would even be space for a wet bar to compliment New Roomie. I can't lose!

Seriously though, anyone know anyone looking for a place on the North Side? I'm gonna be financially FUCK-ED if I don't find someone to live with.

JOHN DILDOE

Allow me to explain...

First off, that is not my dildo (I swear!) although this was the scene I was confronted with after coming home from work one night. "John-Dildoe" belongs to Roomie. After briefly hyperventilating I was assured it was totally clean and posed no "threat" to anything within it's general vicinity (with the exception of my sanity).

Allow me to explain further. Since Roomie has come back from Peru she has been without employment, and avoiding writing her thesis paper. Therefore, she has been on a mean cleaning streak. One day, while organizing her closet she came across John Dildoe, which has been gathering dust for several years.

In her defense, she spent the majority of today mopping our hardwood floors (a task I have deferred for the better part of nearly 3 months), washing the glass on the framed artwork in our place, cooking chili (yum!) and even cleaning the blinds (thanks Roomie - our shower is totally fucked now).

I guess I can live with a dildo in my dish rack.

Fuck, for all intensive purposes, I am "married". And like the vast majority (total baseless assumption) of married men, without regular sex. Maybe I need a John Dildoe of my own....I don't know what it is lately, but holyfuckingshit I feel the need to get laid! I need to get naked and sweaty with a boy, and soon!

I didn't need a dildo to remind me of this fact, but goddammit it does.

WEEKEND UPDATE

The Roomie is back in full force! After getting home from work last night we popped a bottle of bubbly and promptly emptied it - in like 45 minutes. Then we consumed some Old Style (classy, I know) along with some Jameson whiskey. Our mutual friend (her best friend from high school) whom I will call Big Pappa was also here, and soon after our other buddy MarK joined us and the four of us proceeded to get lit. Eventually we stumbled over to a bar for pizzas and more beer. By the time we left we were all drunk. There's really not much else to report since most of last night was a blur, but it's good to have the Roomie back!

In other news, I texted this guy, whom I will refer to as Polish guy, on Thursday night, (this is the guy I met over the summer at a concert and we've gone out twice since). I asked him if he had plans for Saturday and he responded that he did not, so I asked him if he wanted to get dinner, to which he responded "sure, what do you have in mind?" Since he came up to my 'hood the last two times, I offered to go somewhere near him. 30 minutes later, after not receiving a response, I sent another message asking if he had any preference on where we go. He never responded back...

Fuck it. Seriously...I cannot deal with flakes. Rather than going out with Polish guy, I am going to Big Pappa's costume party tonight, which should be awesome. My costume? I'm going as a Gangsta Rapper! Roomie and I spent the last 2 hours going to the various $1 stores in my 'hood, and I bought the following items which will constitute my costume:

1. Grillz. Yes, I am wearing fucking Grillz over my teeth, (at least for my grand entrance and for pictures).
2. Do-Rag. If you live in a major city you know exactly what I am referring to.
3. Bling. I have a huge gold necklace with a "$" on it, and also a gold bracelet and various rings.
4. Pager. I don't why I bought this...but it felt right a the time.
5. Gun. I thought it was illegal for stores in the city to sell toy guns, but I found one that did. It's looks like a Glock, therefore, I need to be careful with it when out in public tonight. I thinking of putting in my waist, haha.

In total, I spent a whopping $8 on my get up.

Items I have around the house that will be used to round out my costume include a neck bandanna (and I am going to wear it like the spray paint artists do), a wife beater, my big tough looking boots (they are not Timberlands could pass for them) and my jeans, that Ill wear without a belt so that they sag. Now all I need is a name for my alter ego...I'm thinking "White Out" is fitting.

The best part of my costume? Roomie's huge Russian friend is going to wear shades and a track suit, and be my bodyguard! Oh man, this promises to be a great night. The party is going to be stocked with 30 or so people, lots of food and plenty of drinks.

Hopefully, I will not get arrested tonight.

OH - guess who just responded back to my text from Thursday night? That's right, Polish guy. You know, he could have a valid reason for taking 48 hours to return a text message, and if he had replied back "sorry, my dog died" or "my house burned down" or whatever, but he did not. His message was "hey, what are you up to?"

Fuck that shit.

SHE'S ON A JET PLANE

Back in early June my Roomie embarked on her ambitious trip to Peru to survey an ancient city. Her excitement was mirrored by my own, as her opportunity to experience life in another country, utilizing her educational skill set, was echoed my chance to live life as a single, gay, urban bachelor with a huge place to myself. With the exception of her brief return home in mid-August, we have continued on our respective journeys for the better part of five months. That being said, we are set to reunite in less than 48 hours, and although I cannot speak for her, I for one am ecstatic about her imminent return.

Don't get me wrong, I have loved nearly every minute of having the run of the house; I can stay up late watching TV in my boxers, leaving my debris about the place and living a nefarious existence that I have dreamed of since the advent of my adolescence. However, I have also had the burden of caring for two temperamental felines that are not my own, not to mention the watering of a dozen plants that seem to dislike me me as much as said felines (oh, and she is way better at submitting our rent check in a timely manner).

However, I have also been living in a 900+ square foot apartment in a desirable location and only paying half the rent, so these minor inconveniences are exactly that: minor and rather inconsequential [ed: with the notable exception of one of the felines shitting on my bed approximately 15 minutes before a date arrived; Pippen...you might be cute but may you burn in hell for that egregious and flagrant act of uncivil disobedience].

Though we have had many a great (though divergent) experiences, I must state that I am excited for the Roomies return. She is understandably looking forward to living back in the accommodations she is accustomed to...and I am hopeful that I will never have to scoop cat poop from a litter box ever again (really, it's the small things in life that matter most). Above all else, I am positively PSYCHED to have my best friend and confident back in my life on a daily basis.

Ladies and Gentlemen, fasten your seat belts and secure your tray tables...for the return of my co-pilot is drawing near.