One of the truthiest truths of adulting is that roommates suck.
Or at least, mine have. Okay. Well, one of them has. And that one is my husband. He's a gross blob of human-esque parts. He leaves up the toilet seat. He sneezes on me. He picks his toenails. While on my goddamned bed. When I'm in it.
But as bad as Chris has been (and it's atrocious, y'all), he apparently isn't the most cringe-inducing bunky ever. I was perusing the website Reddit the other day, and I found this horror story:
"My roommate spent Saturday night vomiting on my carpet and then eating it again while I tried to pull her away from it so I could clean it up. But at least it's better than the time I came home to find her covered in pigeon blood."
Okay, before you go getting your granny panties in a twist, this story comes with exactly that: a twist.
Turns out, this Reddit thread was all about replacing the word "pet" with "roommate" for humor's sake. And it was pretty damn hilarious, with perhaps my favorite entry being, "I live with two male roommates who are brothers, and I catch them humping each other when they don't think I'm looking."
The thread got me thinking. My husband is gross. (See above list of infractions.) And my cats are gross. (What's worse than roommates who shit in a box?) If I were to see two stories side-by-side, how long would it take me to determine if it were my partner or my pet that had disgusted me?
Even better, how long would it take you to tell the difference?
Let's try this as a warm up: My roommate puked in my favorite purse.
Was it my husband? Or was it my cat?
Fun fact: both, albeit on different occasions.
Okay, now that you've got the general idea, let's get going on this little game I like to call "Asshat Or Furbaby?"
*Asshat Or Furbaby?: When my younger sister brought her newborn daughter to visit Auntie B, my roommate tried to eat the baby.
Answer 1: Asshat. Yes, folks. When my husband met his newest niece, he tried to fit her in a crock pot, saying she would be delicious. He claims he was joking.
*Asshat Or Furbaby?: After being served a dinner of chicken and yellow gravy, my roommate ate so fast that he puked.
Answer 2: Unfortunately, yet again, asshat. My husband did this in high school after eating what he and his friends called "Yellow Day" in the cafeteria. The meal consisted of chicken nuggets, mashed potatoes with sunny-colored chicken gravy, and corn.*
*Asshat Or Furbaby?: My roommate pissed on the other cat in the house.
Answer 3: I know this seems like it would be one of my furbabies, but nope. Again, asshat. When we brought home Mycroft from the shelter, the rescue kitty couldn't get enough of the damn toilet. One day, Chris was doing his business, and Mycroft jumped up to see what was going on and got hit flush in the face by my husband's stream. Yeah. My home is that exciting.
*Asshat Or Furbaby?: My roommate dragged a piece of stale pizza crust in the bedroom and hid it under the bed when I came into the room.
Answer 4: You know this. It was the asshat. I've also found socks in the kitchen cupboard. My husband is shockingly nasty.
*Asshat Or Furbaby?: My roommate slid aside the shower curtain and proceeded to watch me naked under the water, all the while making loud noises of pleasure.
Answer 5: Yeah, it was my furbaby, Khaleesi. I don't think my husband has seen me naked in, oh, let's say 5-ish years?
And that's it. That's the test. And reading back over it? Yeah, I just realized that all the repugnant stuff is my husband, while the only scenario that could even slightly be construed as sexy was my cat.
Don't mind me. I'll just be over here looking at my life choices like:
True story: Life would be super swell if we all embraced our OMG side instead of living a Facebook-friendly existence. So, let it out. What's the worst thing your roommate (asshat or furbaby) has done? If you were to participate in that Reddit thread, what would your story be? What's the most unacceptable thing YOU have done as a roommate? How well did you do on my test? Are you an A student? If you are, keep that shit to yourself. Nobody likes a bragger. Feel free to disclose details. You're safe here.
*(Okay. Rare edit here: My husband read this and insists he never told me this. Welp, folks, he DID tell me that he ate the Yellow Day meal and got so excited that he threw up. I know, because I wrote it down. And I used to be a journalist. So, I write down things like woah. Regardless, I'm leaving this story, because I feel like him making up that story is just as gross as it actually happening.)