, , , , , , , , , ,

I discovered this website called happyplace.com and there is a category called “The Most Awkward, Entertaining, or Horrifying Notes Ever Written by a Roommate.” Here is one of my favorites.



It doesn’t matter what house I live in or who I live with, because this ALWAYS ends up happening. With my last two residences, it was particularly shaming, because we HAD A DISHWASHER! When I went over to Parker’s, the same thing would happen, but with different people.

I sent the link to my ex-roommate who I figured would appreciate it most (and the one I’m still closest to). When I told one of my friends about it, he was like, “I’m sure you’re going to read EVERY one,” and you know what? He was right. This wasn’t the least bit surprising. Then Wifey read the link I sent her.

BACK STORY: Recently, Wifey had a birthday. Frost and I got her hot sauce as a spur of the moment gift when he was in town. When he went to leave, he decided not to take it in his suitcase. Earlier this month, I finally got around to mailing it to her as a belated gift. It’s hot sauce, I thought. It doesn’t go bad.

She LOVES hot sauce. It's her jam. She puts it on everything. Even eggs. Not ice cream, that I know of...

I mean, how can something with this name GO BAD? Hot sauce is her jam. She puts it on everything. Even eggs. Not ice cream, probably.

“I love it!” she exclaimed. ” ‘Ass Burn!’ Now I’m scared to try it though…but I’ll do it and video tape it for you!”

Parker and I eagerly awaited the video. Nothing.

“Have you done it yet?” I prodded her a few days ago.

“Not yet…it smells bad,” she said.

Here’s how THAT went…

[The Weird Button...and Facebook]

I need her to clarify which picture was her favorite…I think she means third one, page one. [The Weird Button…and Facebook and happyplace.com’s link]

One of our mutual friends invited her out one night, and since she was the ONLY other girl, and freaking awesome, we just kept inviting her out until she became a permanent part of the group. Wifey and I became roommates for many reasons, all that led back to convenience. We were friends, but not BEST friends (at the time we agreed to move in together). Neither of us were neat freaks. She lived close to my work, and her roommate at the time was moving out. Everything lined up perfectly.

Our place was a complete disaster. We had all these plans for cleaning, painting, and decorating, but when it came down to it, it always sounded like a lot of work. One morning, I woke up and went to the kitchen to prep breakfast for work. We were out of bowls, so I put my oatmeal in a mug and opened the microwave to find another mug with oatmeal in it. Wifey had the same idea. In fact, I’d seen her do it before, and I’d gotten the idea from her.

She sends me some of the greatest text messages ever. When we first moved to the South, Parker and I went to a hot wings joint and were watching basketball. I texted her, a little bummed out, saying, “I miss our old Wednesday bar with the $1 drinks that we used to get two at a time. Does that make me ghetto?”

A few minutes later, I got a text saying, “GHETTO IS THE SHIT!” It’s been years, and I still remember that text message and laughing all night, even though it was many phones ago.

Okay, here’s the SECOND part of that conversation. Keep in mind, this is the courageous woman who almost did The Cinnamon Challenge. I don’t think she has yet.

[Curtesy of The Weird Button...and Facebook]

I don’t know why this picture is SMALLER. That’s annoying. Sorry. [Curtesy of The Weird Button…and Facebook]

I hope all of you who are out there who bought Ass Burn do not keep it on a shelf in extreme heat for several months. Either it’s supposed to taste that way or it DID go bad! Regardless, handle with care.

When I started dating Parker, she got bored at our apartment and ended up watching every season of Lost I owned. We only lived together for a short while, as our jobs both took us in separate directions, hers to another state. But she promised no matter what, she’d come home for my wedding. And she did, as one of my bridesmaids. She was one of the first friends we had that came and visited when we moved, and even though she’s a scary movie connoisseur, she watched The Shining on my couch for the first time.

You heard it. Just like me, she read every one. We are meant to be, and that my friends, is why she’s called Wifey.