Earning my stripes

When Andy and I had a roommate in the spring and summer it wasn't really like having a true roommate. It was a temporary situation & even though we told him to make himself at home, there was always that "house guest" vibe about the whole situation.

Now? Drew lives with us, it isn't temporary. At least, it isn't temporary for as long as we have this lease. He has made himself at home in every sense and so have we.

But y'all, men are gross. I mean, Drew is kind of OCD about some things and he cleans up after himself pretty well, but there are other things. I was talking to Andy about it the other day and he said it best. "It's like you're living in a locker room." Yes, that must be exactly what it's like, except we're all dressed.

In truth, it really isn't all that bad. He's a good guy and he's pretty respectful. But I will say that it's a good thing I have a dull sense of smell because I get serenaded nightly by their fart trumpets. Seriously, I downloaded the "big fart button" on my smart phone for a laugh and since we've all moved in together it has been rendered completely unnecessary. If you ever come to visit me I advise you to pack a gas mask. Maybe I'll just buy some to have on hand for unprepared visitors.

Also, Drew's sense of humor is not unlike that of a 13 year old boy. I think every man's humor development stalls out at 13, so Andy suffers from the same affliction. Except he has lived with me for four years and that has helped to curb some of the completely unnecessary, juvenile jokes. But with the two of them together it's gotten worse, and don't even get me started on how they completely ignore the don't-talk-when-Joanna's-shows-are-on rule. I think I'm going to make a sign to post over the television so when they start to giggle like a pack of prepubescent man children I can just point to the sign while simultaneously turning up the volume on the television.

One and a half weeks down, fifty and a half to go.

Oh! Oh! One more thing. Drew's sweet tooth rivals mine and there is a possibility that he loves chocolate more than I do. So even when I haven't baked anything new there is still something sweet laying around waiting to attach itself to my midsection. Also, he loves Doritos. Doritos, y'all. I only let myself have a bad of Doritos once, maybe twice, a year because I love them so much and if there is an uneaten Dorito in my presence I have to eat it. It is physically impossible for me not to eat it and I can finish a bag in under 24 hours. But now there are ALWAYS Doritos in the cabinet.

Someone please send reinforcements. Or a lock for the cabinet door.