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Sunday, October 15, 2006
Vagisil. Yea. I Said It.
Praise fucking Moses, yo. My girlfriend and the little stink nugget are out of my life until next Sunday. I feel like a kid on Christmas, or what I imagine a kid feels like on Christmas. It's not that I don't love having my girlfriend around, cooking and cleaning up after me, and the little stink nugget is kind of cute in that I think I've dropped a deuce that weights more than you kind of way, but it's nice to have my place to myself for a little while.
It's rather interesting that when you enter into a relationship, someone's living quarters becomes communal in the sense that it becomes a little less yours and little more ours. I have no idea how the place is selected because if I knew I would make sure that my place was never up to selection par, but it's pretty much inevitable that before you know it, you find yourself always at your place and them never at theirs. It's not the same as having a roommate, because even your bed is the subject of invasion.
My place has been invaded by a 5'10'' Aphrodite and her little stink nugget, and I didn't really have an issue with it until I went into the bathroom cabinet below my sink and found a whole shit load of her shit and my shit no where to be found. Tampons, make-up, hair products, a blow dryer, a curling iron, more moisturizers than I thought any human could possibly need, a funky heating contraption for her eyelashes, I even found a tube of Vagisil which quite frankly scares me. I didn't find extra can of shaving cream I keep down there for when the original runs out. That was no where to be found. I also have no clue
I'm fine with her adding things to my laundry, I'm fine with her staking out a section of my closet for her crap, I'm fine with keeping my lone four pairs of shoes in the linen closet so she can keep her shoe "options" open, and I'm even find with her keeping shit-even Tampons and Vagisil-in my bathroom, but that's the logical side of me. The non logical side of me feels like I'm being phased out of my own apartment which I pay for, along with my roommate. I've been on the other end of the communal living spectrum and I can't ever remember bringing over an arsenal of shit with me and leaving it there. I can't even remember my girlfriend who lived with me in college having this much crap in our place.
Kitty says to talk to her about it, decide if I see this relationship evolving into something more than hanging out and sex, or stop bitching about it. Unfortunately, Kitty is also the first Jewish nun (because she gets none and hasn't in a while) in existence and that's all attributable to the fact she's one blunt little girl who doesn't understand the meaning of walking on egg shells. Thus, I throw this out there to blogland for suggestions because while little Ms. Kitty can't understand it, I don't want the sexin' to stop along with the Vagisil collection growth.
good'n'very plenty spoke at 3:53 PM
and
14 people united to combat the evil fucking care bear stare
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