Let Me Slide In Your Inbox!
CONFESSION: I don’t think I’m going to see this series through. I started it to always have guaranteed blog content.
As time has gone on, I have grown less fond of the overall premise of this blog series. I really loved the first few, and there are some roommates I want to highlight, so I’m toying with the idea of doing a Roommate Roundup and compiling all these maaaf*ckers into one blog post.
With all that said, #25 has consistently expressed her excitement for her feature and often complained that if I planned to go in chronological order, it would take forever for me to get to her. Well, today happens to be #25’s birthday, and this blog is her surprise!
Like the original three roommates, I went to college with #25, but we weren’t close back then. We met sophomore year and this girl stayed in my dorm room asking me to come out to parties with her. She’s reading this screaming: “AND SHE ALWAYS SAID NO! I HAVE NEVER BEEN REJECTED SO MANY TIMES IN MY LIFE!”
The truth was, I was dating a guy who was overly controlling and if I went out, it was always a fight with him. On one hand, I look back and think about all the missed parties, opportunities, connections, etc. On the other, if I partied the first three years like I partied my senior year when he and I had finally broken up… there is no possible way I would have survived, or graduated for that matter. So, I think it’s for the best that I never went out with #25.
When my “landlord” [term used very loosely, because he was a college friend turned roommate as well, who bitched about any and every landlord responsibility], told me that #25 would be moving in, I was somewhat concerned. By this time, I was so accustomed to living with guys that I thought having a girl around might annoy me.
It turned out to be just the opposite.
We became best friends, workout buddies (Bikini Body Guide, or BBG, by @kayla_itsines was our jam), and even plucked each other’s eyebrows, which was our unhealthiest obsession and still is. We used to have date-nights at Olive Garden. We couponed and shopped for groceries together. We made healthy crock-pot meals, and occasionally had less healthy frozen dinosaur-shaped chicken nugget and Kraft Macaroni & Cheese meals. She even ended up adopting my schedule, which meant bedtime before the sun went down on most days. Then again, we’d sit and text each other from our separate rooms and laugh our asses off for hours on end. We were next-level adulting, but at the same time, not at all.
My three favorite memories:
- #25 introduced me to the best hard cider there is: Bold Rock. One night a week, we’d have a “Bold Rock Night” and enjoy one or two after a workout. Of course, because we can’t always practice self-control, we ended up drinking six each and then moved on to two bottles of wine one night. Mind you, we were just on the couch in our underwear, watching the full series of Idiots of the Internet. Once we finished, and for reasons I cannot confirm besides alcohol, we moved on to watching famous celebrity sex-tapes. Somehow, our “let’s have a beer to wind down” turned into us critiquing celebrity porn and discussing how unimpressed we were by Kim K, Paris Hilton, and Farrah Abraham, among others. It went on for hours. It is worth noting that because we had so much to drink and weren’t in bed before sundown, the next day we were texting nonstop: “I’M SO HUNGOVER!” and “I’M DYING.” It remains one of the worst hangovers of my life.
- While doing BBG outside on the back patio, we were using the picnic table for box jumps. After 15 box jumps, my legs were about shot, so I didn’t clear the next jump. Ended up with my shins scraping down the unfinished wood and left with three inch gashes. I finished the workout, and immediately started bruising like a peach. Next thing I knew, we were in the bathroom cleaning it with Vodka, because neither of us owned a first aid kid or rubbing alcohol. My nurse friend saw the photos and told me I probably needed stitches. Indeed, I still have awful scars and refuse to do box jumps… I don’t care how effective they are.
- When our other college friend came into town one weekend, a night out in DC was “the move.” There were probably 20 people at the house pre-gaming and by the time everyone decided to Uber to DC, I was already over it and just wanted to go to bed. Due to limited space, I ended up in the trunk of an Uber [NOTE: This is a regular thing for me and I don’t know how I’ve never been forgotten back there SLASH why Uber drivers are so cool with this arrangement SLASH why I always volunteer as tribute]. Anyway, I was texting #25 who was in a completely separate Uber. My exact words were: “Let’s leave as soon as it’s socially acceptable, go home and chug water?” Like I did not want to be out and neither did #25 apparently because she readily agreed. Well, wouldn’t ya know that I was the last one to arrive home that morning, alone, around 5am. Give your girl a dance floor and I’m out all night. Back then anyway. Now I’m an old woman and prefer day drinking shenanigans.
My birthday cruise was also a favorite memory with #25 but you can read that novel here. Even though #25 and I have not lived together for years now, we’re still as close – read that as ridiculous – as ever. Yesterday she texted me saying she was bored and wanted inspiration for nudes. So instead of telling her poses and describing angles to her, I just sent her some of my best work. This is the type of friendship we have and I make no apologies for it.
Lessons learned living with #25?
- Even the best alcohol cannot make celebrity sex tapes worth watching.
- If you injure yourself during a workout, seek medical help.
- There are lots of idiots on the internet.
- And that’s about it.
In all seriousness… #25 is my person. And if you don’t watch Grey’s Anatomy… that means, “If I murdered someone, she’s the person I’d call to help me drag the corpse across the living room floor.” So no real lessons needed to be learned because I know she will always have my back… no matter what. And we all need a person like that in our lives.
Happy Birthday, little nugget!
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