Remember that time that I got really preoccupied by life and kindof forgot that the interweb existed? Heh… oops! This past week has been crazy.

First of all, I will admit that I made some decisions that have totally rejuvinated me.  I can’t write about them right now, but without being too vague, I think that things will start looking up once the changes get implemented.

So, this past weekend started off with a big old bang. Went out with the roomie and a bunch of his coworkers (my ex-coworkers from back in the day) and had a great time at what we call “Fun Club”. Basically, we meet for happy hour and then share cabs home at like 11, laughing about how drunk we are. It’s SO MUCH FUN.  Hence we call it Fun Club. One of the admin people at the company I used to work for even sends out weekly emails to remind us, with a list of who has attended from week to week. The best week is the one when no one went but my roomie. Most weeks there’s 6 – 8 people, where he and I are part of the regulars. That one week, everyone had plans, so he just went out and played on the Wii at the bar with some fishermen. AWESOME.

Anyways… I hit tangents sometimes.

This past friday, a couple of my roomies friends came into town. E and J showed up at maybe 8, when we were already pretty plowed. Due to a fortunate series of blessings dressed in disguise, I had made my “big” decision that afternoon.  So, rather than sitting around and moping about the proverbial “straw that broke the camels back”, I went out and got drunk. Really really drunk. Whiskey drunk. Plowed. So, they have a drink with us, and we all decide to go to another bar. E hadn’t even had a full drink, so she drove us to the other bar and we all proceeded to play dice at the bar.

Did you read that?

I played dice at the bar this weekend while drinking Whiskey.


Anyways… the night goes on and on, and after a lot of hilarity, everyone finally goes to bed.

And then the pounding in my head started. It just went THUMP THUMP THUMP for HOURS. I seriously thought that it would never go away and I would never actually be able to sleep.

Wait… no, it wasn’t pounding in my head.

It was pounding in my BED, where E and J were having the loudest sex I have ever heard in my life. Mind you, I had willingly given up my bed. I knew that we were taking it to the dump the next day (after months of back pains, I quit pretending that the bed wasn’t a major factor), so I didn’t really care what happened in it. And the twin bed in the guest room is REALLY firm, so it’s what I preferred anyways.

And knowing that the young couple is very much in love (read: lust) with each other, so I expected to maybe hear something embaressing… but I’ve lived with roommates before and know that it happens sometimes. Generally, you hear a bit of somethin somethin, and tune it out. But, people are normally VERY aware of the people in the next room and don’t like the idea of others hearing the loving.

Well, apparently E and J need to join some voyeurs club, because holy shit.

I did NOT expect to hear them scream and pound for almost 2 hours. I turned on music and put a spare pillow over my head, and still I heard E shriek WAY too many times.  I know what she sounds like when she’s about to… uh… finish. GROSS. And J groan. And yell. And flip her over. Because, YES, I could tell when he was flipping her over.

Now, I know that everyone has drunk sex once in a while, and sometimes it gets a bit rowdy… you could even forget that you’re sleeping in a strangers bed at a house full of people. But, according to my roomie, he went to hang out with them a couple of times in the summer to hear them enjoying some afternoon delight, and it was just as bad if not worse.

In both scenarios, they knew that they were within earshot of other people. COMFORTABLE earshot. Like, speaking loudly would be easily heard.

So, I had finally almost fallen asleep when I hear a VERY loud crash coming from my room. I’ll tell you, it PISSED me off. I had my head sandwiched in pillows and had music on, and could still hear the moans, yet had almost fallen asleep. The crash brought me to fully awake. Turns out that they had broken my side table.

Yes, you read that right. They broke my side table.

Now, my side table wasn’t some crappy hand-me-down. This is a hefty stone-topped table, big enough for a lamp, some books and a drink. Its not huge, but the top must weigh 15 or 20 lbs. My best friend in Austin had made it for me and it was perhaps the most perfect gift ever given to me. The legs can be removed, so it can move SO easily, and it’s totally my style and colors. And she made it for me completely from scratch. She worked on it for probably a year (on and off) and I totally cried when she gave it to me because it was just that awesome. On top of the table sat the only lamp that I own, a beautiful antique given to me by my grandparents, which has been in my family for generations.

So, do get where I’m going with this description? 2 of the few things that I actually cherish are my side table and my lamp. And during the 2 hour sexcapade, the table got broken and the lamp got thrown across the room.

Lucky for them, they didn’t break the lamp. They totally fucked up the shade, but I can forgive that, seeing as that the lamp itself didn’t need to get glued back together.

However, I didn’t find out what the crash was until I saw J trying to fix my table. There he was, with my beautiful table and a screwdriver. He then tried to blame it on E, where she gave him the “ohhh yeah” wink and high five. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I gave them both a look that said “don’t even fucking go there” and walked away. I made light on it later, but only because he had fixed the table. But, I totally commented on the antique lamp that was a gift from my grandmother and “wow, I’m really glad you didn’t break that.”

So, between the couple and their dog, I decided to leave. The dog was this little fucking yappy dog that ate all of my cats food and scared them so bad that they started to pee on random stuff. Sarge ended up hiding behind the trash can in the kitchen cabinets (which he figured out how to open in order to hide from the dog) and Eva hid behind my guitar case in the guest room. When I picked her up, she was just a bundle of shakes and held onto me SO tight, you’d think she was facing death. And the couple didn’t really try to discipline the dog, saying that my cats just had to get used to the dog. I say “teach your dog what the word no means”. Or, perhaps as a guest in someone elses home, you would consider tying the dog up or SOMETHING. Anyways, my roomies parents were showing up on Sat night, and to me, 5 humans and 3 animals was way too much. Plus, I was hungover and not in the mood to be nice to people who kept me up til dawn with their sex.

So, anyways. I went away for a couple of days after I watched J fix my table.

Oh, wait… did I say that he fixed the table? He managed to make it look like it was fixed, but I found out that rather than the legs being nicely triangulated, it instead created a shape consistent with a leg missing from a 4 legged table.  He then balanced it against the fucking wall.

How did I find this out? Well, I came home a couple of days later with my cats and a new bed (I’d like to thank my parents for giving me my bed back from my childhood) and started washing sheets and whatnot. By the time for bed, my cats had finally figured out that E, J and the dog were gone. So, Eva was checking things out, including the new bed. She then steps onto my side table to look out the window…


(you can see it coming)

knocked EVERYTHING onto my bed.

Fortunately this meant that my lamp landed on my bed and no more damage was done. However, this also meant that my very full glass of cherry kool-aid was thrown all over my bed.

Wait, did I mention that I had finished washing and drying my sheets and blankets 20 minutes earlier? My blanket was in dryer for 2 hours and was literally still warm.

It was 11:30 at night, and I had cherry kool-aid all over my freshly laundered blankets.

At this point, I really LOOK at the table and see the legs. They weren’t even CLOSE to triangulated. And yet, the lamp had been placed on top and my books nicely stacked right there as if everything was fine.


I mean, come ON. If you break something, first of all, you need to admit it rather than trying to fix it without people noticing. Then, if they DO notice, perhaps you should make sure to fix it correctly. But then, if you can’t fix it correctly, don’t try to hide it. Because when you hide the fact that a table is unstable, things are likely to be knocked off of them. Like the antique lamp that I had already freaked out because I thought it had been broken. Or the glass of juice I was drinking while reading a book. Just a couple of examples… you know.

So, E was supposed to be our other roomie this summer.

However, my roomie and I completely agreed that she is never welcome to sleep in our house again (with or without J). He’s so pissed at their rudeness that he plans on talking to them about it. Personally, I’d just leave it at the dog. I told him to just blame it on the fact that she wants to bring the dog along and to blame me and my “fragile” cats. I’m more than willing to take the blame for being uptight… I mean, I had already told her that if the dog was coming, I’d just take my cats to my parents house for the summer. Her reaction was “OMG! That’s so sweet that you’d do that!!” My reaction was “Are you stupid? That’s my ‘nice’ way of saying that you can’t move in.”  (No, I didn’t say that, instead I just closed the door and kept walking out to my car.) But, nope, the roomie wants to be confrontational. I don’t want him to end friendships over this, but I’ll say… the man really holds people to a certain standard and I really respect that.

Anyways… so, that’s one story from my weekend. I still can’t get the sounds of Es screams and Js balls slapping her ass out of my head. (I know! TOO MUCH INFORMATION! No one EVER wants to think about their friends and what happens during sex. Well, maybe some people don’t mind. And I don’t mind a good dirty conversation. BUT! Nothing personal folks, I NEVER need to hear you having sex. It makes me uncomfortable. If I can actually hear skin slapping, I may never speak to you again. And then I’ll write about it on my blog with limited editing other than names. And the names won’t be edited well at that. I’m more than willing to talk about it in hypotheticals, but I also prefer the nitty gritty details of what EXACTLY went down last night to be left out. You can say “we had sex 3 times” and I’ll deal with it. You can NOT say “well, first he was on top and spun me around until I was reverse cowgirl. OMG! IT WAS AMAZING”. Gross. NO.)

And, now you know my deep dark thoughts on people having sex. I know it happens. I just don’t want to hear it in the next room. And if you break my table and try to hide it, I’ll probably dislike you and tell your gf that she can’t move in.