petty little things

Posted: December 19, 2010 in otiose
Tags: , ,

Stop smoking in your room and pretending that I don’t know. You’re not that clever, I just don’t care.
As a related issue, clean up after you dogs. The smell coming from your room of stale smoke and piss is one of the main reasons I don’t smoke. That soiled, whitetrash smell has always bothered me, and I don’t like it wafting up to greet me at the end of the hall in my own residence.

Flush the toilet. Please. I know it’s you. For one, the problem didn’t crop up until you moved in, and for another…shit, piss? Sure. It could be anyone. Period blood? Well, it’s not me. Fucking flush.
As a related qualm, quit eating the toilet paper…or whatever the fuck you’re doing with it…please, stop. We’re going through over double what we used to based on one more butt, and I’m nice enough to keep us stocked, but…don’t think I won’t stop just to spite you for wasting things.

Quit stealing my chef’s knife. I will find it. I will stab you with it if you keep taking it. Yes. I will. You’re not even using it. You’re just claiming it and taking it. No. It is not yours. I know these things. I’m downright neurotic.
As a related pet peeve, if you’re going to use my dishes to cook and bake, don’t leave your food in those dishes for weeks. I need them back. I’m set up as a one man band in the kitchen. If you keep your food in my dishes, I can’t wash them. If I can’t use my dishes, I can’t eat.

Don’t feed my bird. She has two bowls of seed and cereal mix. She does not need a third bowl. That bowl is for treats, and I can’t give her treats if her bowl is full of seed. I’m sick of emptying it out everyday when I come home from work, because you’re an idiot. That food is expensive. She’s not starving. Leave her alone.
On a related note, she does not need to learn how to say your dog’s name. You did not teach her to say the things she says. She is smarter than you. She is smarter than me.
In addition to that, shut the fucking door when you go out. She can’t be in a draft all the fucking time.

Quit bumping the mirror on my car. What the fuck are you doing? Stay away from my car altogether. You don’t even drive.

That USB internet receptor is mine. Don’t forget that.

Learn how to recycle. It’s not that hard. The city sends out a letter every holiday that states exactly what can and cannot be accepted. Pizza boxes are not accepted. For that last time, PIZZA BOXES ARE NOT RECYCLABLE HERE. I’m sick of digging through the trash to take out recyclable things, and digging in the recycling to pull out the trash. Just do it right.

Why do you insist on using the bathroom during the ten minute window when you know that I have habitually used it every single day…even on my days off. Why? Why do you need the bathroom for close to an hour anyway? What do you do in there, because you’re obviously not flushing the toilet? I bet it involves toilet paper. Whatever you’re doing, go easy on that toilet paper, and give me my ten minutes. Is that asking too much? You don’t even work half the time, and when you do…Ten minutes. I’m asking for ten minutes.

That’s all for now, but keep in mind that while I’m quiet and considerate, one of these little things is going to send me straight over the edge. Quit being stupid.


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