I have a really hard time working 14 hours and then going to the bar and doing 5 shots of Jose Quirvo. Don't get me wrong, I will do it but sometimes it's a fairly difficult task.
A few nights ago my roommate, who has the social life of a 67 year old, came home heavily intoxicated after spending a long afternoon with my friend, the sauce. I had spent the day working and was too heavily sedated on my own life to play reverse roles for the evening but he has been there for me one too many times while I was in that state so I did my best to tend to him in a somewhat patient manner.
Epic fail.
I gave it my all and did my best, but, after hearing the same slurred story 3 different times and having chewed bits of peanut butter toast projected at my face I felt it was time to go to sleep. My roommate, the lush, was not very happy about the idea of me leaving him alone so once I had snuggled into bed he barged into my room, jumped in my bed, and shrieked in the voice of Satan, "You're a bad frrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeennnnnnnnddd!!!" He then proceeded to crawl out of my room.
I ended up having a dream about the movie 'The Grudge' that night, and my roommate doesn't remember a thing.
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