Dear visitors,
To some extent, I like you. Really, I do. You seem like cool kids. But when I wake up in the morning to the sounds of your squawking about the night before, I am less than pleased. Considerably.
And I’m even less pleased when, as I shuffle into the kitchen in my pajamas, you all fall conspicuously silent. I feel as if my every move is being monitored. (I just want my fucking coffee; will you stop with the whole observing me like a National Geographic specimen thing?)
So, in order to lighten the mood, I crack a joke: “Don’t mind me, I just live here.” The only response I get? Nervous giggles. All right, let’s try again. “Hi, I’m Heinous Bitch. I’m _______’s roommate.” Out of the ten of you clustered/piled around my living room/dining area (no really, we only have an “area” for dining, our apartment is so small), only one of you introduces yourself.
I go back to fixing my coffee. Then the whispers start. Is it really necessary for you to titter like grade school children when you think I’m not paying attention? Clearly it is. Nevermind that this is my fucking apartment too, and that you’re here by the grace of my roommates’ and my hospitality.
Kindly GTFO and take your sleeping bags and glow sticks with you. ALL OF YOU.
Sincerely,
Heinous Bitch
10 months ago • 4 notes
