The roomies and I did a bunch of crap this weekend.  It’s still not remotely close to being over.  But we’re closer.  Despite us all being utterly exhausted and one of us feeling ill.  We did good, and I feel a lot better about the next few weeks…though AHHHH.

I thought I’d share a few interactions we had.  Because we are funny.  Well, I am.  😉

J: Hey Alma. Want this?
*holds up his Superman onesie, that no longer fits*
Me: But I’m a girl. I can’t be Superman. I need to be Wonder Woman.
Me: OOOH!!! It has a cape! OKAY!


J is going through a pile of his clothes, including lots of underwear.  I’m holding a trash bag, and he’s throwing stuff at me that he doesn’t want.

*J throws a pair of underwear. It nearly hits me in the face.*

Me: AHHHHH!!!!
J: The’re clean.
Me: Oh. But they touched your balls.And you sweated on them.
J.R.: If you stop being grossed out, he’ll stop throwing them at your face.
Me: I know. I’m just 12.


J, to J.R.: If a cop in Denver ever tries to pull you over, don’t do it.
J.R.: But then there’ll be a high speed chase.
J: Well, if they catch you, tell them you know your rights and you were in fear for your life.
Me: Your white maleness is showing.  She’s white and female.  If she pulls over, they won’t do anything to her.
J.R.: I would just tell them to please not to kill me.
J: Then they’d really shoot you.


Me: OH MY GOD.  I found duct tape!  This is like Christmas morning!
Me: I just ran out this morning.
J: That’s what you’ve said about like everything ever, and it’s why we now have six of everything.


Me: OH MY GOD.  I found my mattress pads.  And new t-shirt sheets!!!
J: Why aren’t they on your bed?
Me: Because we’re moving.  I didn’t want the cats to puke on them.


Him: I told JR you’re a very type A.  When you wrote that to-do list, I got an email each time.  I had like 154 emails last night.
Me: Oh, really?  I’m not THAT type A.  *pouts*  Okay.  Maybe a little.  Okay.  Maybe a lot.
Me: I LIKE LISTS, OKAY?!  Don’t you judge me.
J, as Seinfeld: I’m not judging.
Me: Stop doing your Seinfeld.
J: You drive me to Seinfeld.


Me: I won’t say anything snarky about J’s singing.
J.R.: I think you want to.
J: You’re so mean to me.
Me: I’m not mean to you.  You’re mean to me, you meanie.  SO MEAN.
J: I’m not mean.  You’re mean.
Me: YEA? Well, I’m the meanest.  So, there.
J.R.: I love you guys.




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