I come home, crack open an ice cold beer, flop down on the couch with my pants unbuttoned, turn on the news, occasionally snore as I zone in and out of consciousness, yell into the kitchen "bitch where's my dinner!"
Okay, so maybe its not that bad. Its more of the pathetic bachelor man-type. I've previously mentioned that my refrigerator once stored only things like earthworms (for fishing, not eating, in case you were wondering), pickles and beer. Well, this type of thing is what I'm talking about. Taking current inventory of the fridge I have: block of old parmesan cheese, 4 jars of pickles, rotten milk, orange juice, empty jar of applesauce, tupperware container of what I believe to be baked beans from several months ago (ewh), and .... beer.
My carpet has 4 layers of dog fur. My laundry has stacked up for 3 weeks (had to do some wash this weekend in order to have adequate amounts of underwear for week). Piles of newspapers on the floor. Collection of shoes by the door (the variety and number of these certainly seperates me from my male counterparts, but its still getting out of control). Junk mail piled high on the dining room table. Pot of old broccoli, random wrappers and coffee cups on the counter. Hairball in the spare bedroom. Piles and piles of unread and boring books scattered across bedroom floor. Little piles of dead spider carcasses by the back door. Dog toys EVERYWHERE.
Okay so perhaps I exaggerate (or maybe not so much) - but I think its time for an intervention. I have the home of a 24 year old college fratboy graduate. Somebody please come shoot me. Or atleast go get that nasty hairball out of the spare bedroom. bleh.
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