I have a roommate. By and large, he's a good roommate. He sort of fell into living with me because his family well and truly screwed him over by convincing him to come work in England for a year to pay some medical bills by taking advantage of the exchange rate. Family promised to take care of everything, sent plane tickets, and NEVER GOT HIM A WORK PERMIT. So the poor guy sat in England for a year, couldn't even work to afford his own plane ticket home, doing whatever under the table jobs he could, and when he finally got back to the US, found that the sister he'd been living with here after the surgery that caused the medical bills was no longer able to offer him a room. So, to my couch he came, and to his credit, he sleeps on my couch, pays his share of the rent (though not always on time), does the dishes, takes out the trash, and very rarely complains.
So, really, it's not him I'm complaining about, but more so the horrendous roommate of years past that I'm reminded of whenever he eats my food. Mostly, the current roommate doesn't eat food he didn't pay for or share the cost of. But last night he drank the last of my chocolate soymilk, ate my tuna and tacquitos, and then went to work, so I couldn't even complain about it to him!
Now, this is my pet peeve because the roommate of years past, who shall be known as IR, for Inconsiderate Roomie, used to go for months without buying groceries. Was he just eating out? Ordering takeout? Mooching food off his mother? Heavens, no. He was helping himself to anything I bought, and even if I left no food at all in the house for weeks, he would eat at his mother's house until I bought groceries, and then eat all my groceries when I did! Whole boxes of granola bars disappeared overnight, with the empty box left in the cabinet to taunt me when I foolishly hoped at least one would be left for me. I took to only buying non-perishable foods and keeping them all in my locked closet.
He even ate my leftovers from restaurants! Yes, the leftovers I'd bring home, with bites out, with my potentially bacteria-laden saliva already mixed with the food. They didn't last more than a couple hours if I went out and left IR alone in the house. He cooked my ENTIRE $8.00 bag of soba noodles- 12 servings- in one evening! He ate whole tubs of ice cream.
Was he a compulsive eater? In fact, no. When my locked-closet policy eventually forced IR to buy his own groceries, he ate them slowly, in moderate portion sizes. He was large, but not so large as to suggest a medical problem causing his hunger. He was just plain unable to understand WHY I would not want my grocery bill to become the "Feeding IR bill!" Yes, he was frequently broke and having trouble affording food, but I had little sympathy, as most of his paycheck went to buying expensive things for his girlfriend, who liked to fake pregnancies if she felt she wasn't getting enough attention from him. She also liked to insult my pets when she came over, have sex on my living room floor without even hanging a sock or tie on the door to warn me not to come into my own apartment lest I bear witness to the mating ritual of the rare Hairy-Legged American Bitch.
So, in short, I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE HELP EAT FOOD THEY DIDN'T HELP PAY FOR, and don't even ask first! Just call me Little Red Hen.
So, really, it's not him I'm complaining about, but more so the horrendous roommate of years past that I'm reminded of whenever he eats my food. Mostly, the current roommate doesn't eat food he didn't pay for or share the cost of. But last night he drank the last of my chocolate soymilk, ate my tuna and tacquitos, and then went to work, so I couldn't even complain about it to him!
Now, this is my pet peeve because the roommate of years past, who shall be known as IR, for Inconsiderate Roomie, used to go for months without buying groceries. Was he just eating out? Ordering takeout? Mooching food off his mother? Heavens, no. He was helping himself to anything I bought, and even if I left no food at all in the house for weeks, he would eat at his mother's house until I bought groceries, and then eat all my groceries when I did! Whole boxes of granola bars disappeared overnight, with the empty box left in the cabinet to taunt me when I foolishly hoped at least one would be left for me. I took to only buying non-perishable foods and keeping them all in my locked closet.
He even ate my leftovers from restaurants! Yes, the leftovers I'd bring home, with bites out, with my potentially bacteria-laden saliva already mixed with the food. They didn't last more than a couple hours if I went out and left IR alone in the house. He cooked my ENTIRE $8.00 bag of soba noodles- 12 servings- in one evening! He ate whole tubs of ice cream.
Was he a compulsive eater? In fact, no. When my locked-closet policy eventually forced IR to buy his own groceries, he ate them slowly, in moderate portion sizes. He was large, but not so large as to suggest a medical problem causing his hunger. He was just plain unable to understand WHY I would not want my grocery bill to become the "Feeding IR bill!" Yes, he was frequently broke and having trouble affording food, but I had little sympathy, as most of his paycheck went to buying expensive things for his girlfriend, who liked to fake pregnancies if she felt she wasn't getting enough attention from him. She also liked to insult my pets when she came over, have sex on my living room floor without even hanging a sock or tie on the door to warn me not to come into my own apartment lest I bear witness to the mating ritual of the rare Hairy-Legged American Bitch.
So, in short, I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE HELP EAT FOOD THEY DIDN'T HELP PAY FOR, and don't even ask first! Just call me Little Red Hen.
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