Inasnity Pepper
I had some fucked up dreams last night. First of all, I was sleeping on the couch in the living room for warmth, but also as a safeguard to sleeping too late. I had to get to the Post Office to mail something, so the couch was a good place.
Somewhere between the stroganoff pizza I created and 7:30am, I fell asleep on the couch. After figuring out why I wasn't in my room and a quick glass of water, I moved to the other couch with a blanket and closed my eyes unaware of the horror that awaited me.
I started to dream that the landlord was showing more people the house, but these people weren't leaving. They were eating my pastrami! The bastards were helping themselves to our food and beer. Rather than responding as I should have, with violence, I chose to embrace these new friends. We boiled some potatoes, broiled some steaks, and more sandwiches. The frustration for me, though, was that they kept trying to take our beer. Not the "Drink the 12-pack" beer, but the decent beer that my elitest roomates drink(story to come the next time she pisses me off). Now they had gone too far. I'm trying to gather them all up and explain to them that they will drink water or their own blood and not the beer in the fridge, especially without asking. The response: Apologies and a flask of Gentleman Jack that tasted like chocolate. I hope I wasn't eating the M&Ms under the couch again.
They went on to ask for glazed carrots, but I had to make them according to their recipie.
Baby Carrots 1/4c water 2T flour to make a roux 1/2c sugar Cinnamon 2T Gentleman Jack
Heat the carrots in the water. Stir in the flour to make a roux. Add everything else and stir until it's homogenized.
Easy enough, except for the fact that there was 15 pounds of powdered sugar where the flour was supposed to be in the cabinet. And 3 cups of said sugar fell into the pot.
Awake! Those guys were so dumb. I mean, who makes a roux without fat and why would glazed carrots call for one anyway? Whisky into carrots? That's just dumb. No chance any of those feeloaders are gonna have a cooking show anytime soon. I hope I never see them again.
Star wipe... and we're out.
Suddenly, I'm sitting at a dinner table with two people I recognize as my future landlord and current landlord's wife. I don't know who the actual landlord of this shithole is because he or she is hiding behing the management company, so there's no way I know who his wife is and there's no reason for me to be at dinner with her, either. Surreality aside, we're chatting about how I changed her life by making her feel responsible for providing quality housing and guilty for being associated with a slumlord. Woot, I guess.
I guess I have real feelings of grandeur when I'm asleep. I must be more awesome than I realize.
It's only 10:30, so time for one more round.
It comes to pass that I'm talking to the girlfriend I can't stand of the roomate who is the token awkward presence in the house. She hates me because I make her do atrocious things like close the front door when it's cold outside, say hello before she darts up the stair after letting herself in, and using the doorbell. She actually hates me because I'm "an ass", but that came from me asking her do such things. Anyway, she and I are talking here and she tells me that I'm not her favorite person in the house. I stare blankly at her, she gets mad, starts crying and leaves.
Ironically, I'm woken up by the boyfriend coming home. Probably from having squeally sex.
And I was an vigilante exectutioner for a little while. Probably of no relation to my previous entry.
Replies: 1 comments
Meesa believes yooz gots ta gets out of dat fucking apartment.
Posted by @ 02/17/04 5:20 a.m. ET