After Mark and I stopped speaking, I began to see his behavior from a different perspective. Everything I had previously regarded with a shrug and a "That's Mark," I've now had to re-evaluate.
Yes, I know I started this blog with the idea that I'd write about my roommate's kooky behavior. But really, now that I observe him with, if you will, a more objective distance, I have started to see him less as a "funny guy" and more as unhygienic, antisocial, and worse.
This latest candid shot should be able to tell more than my mere words can express.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Scab, Artist or Scam Artist?
As many of you know, Tim is waging an unfair embargo against Mark for the simple offense of not having asked how his day was. Not only is it fickle, but it also smacks of a 90s made-for-tv movie starring that dude who played Balki on Perfect Strangers. I refuse to respect Tim's picket-line and will therefore continue to write about my erstwhile number two and newly-crowned number one friend Mark.
Who, incidentally, called me the other day.
Mark: Hey, Anthony. I left some leftovers out on the table. Can you put them away for me?
Anthony: I threw them away.
Mark: WHAT?! That was steak!
Mark's Mom in the Background: He threw it away?!
Anthony: It was sitting out in the living room for three days. You can't eat it.
Mark: My mom says it will still be good.
Anthony: Mark, I know you love your mother, but you can't eat meat that has been at room temperature for three days.
Mark's Brother in the Background: Is it still in the trash?
Mark: Is it still in the trash?
Anthony: I'm not pulling a three-day-old steak out of the trash, Mark.
Mark: Ooooo man! You're killing me.
Anthony: We're done here, Mark. And remind your Mom to send all of her dirty pictures to my gmail account, NOT my work email.
Who, incidentally, called me the other day.
Mark: Hey, Anthony. I left some leftovers out on the table. Can you put them away for me?
Anthony: I threw them away.
Mark: WHAT?! That was steak!
Mark's Mom in the Background: He threw it away?!
Anthony: It was sitting out in the living room for three days. You can't eat it.
Mark: My mom says it will still be good.
Anthony: Mark, I know you love your mother, but you can't eat meat that has been at room temperature for three days.
Mark's Brother in the Background: Is it still in the trash?
Mark: Is it still in the trash?
Anthony: I'm not pulling a three-day-old steak out of the trash, Mark.
Mark: Ooooo man! You're killing me.
Anthony: We're done here, Mark. And remind your Mom to send all of her dirty pictures to my gmail account, NOT my work email.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Boycott Mark, Day 1
As you read in the last post, Mark has hurt me. Deeply. I have since embarked on an absolute embargo against Mark. I will not speak to him. I will not make eye contact with him. Only after I have denied him the fruits of my friendship will he see the error of his ways and ask forgiveness.
Look at him. Sitting there, oblivious to the hurt that he has caused. Like a big bully.
A big bully who randomly breaks out into song.
Look at him. Sitting there, oblivious to the hurt that he has caused. Like a big bully.
A big bully who randomly breaks out into song.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Why I hate Mark
"Tim, how about an update?" Mark asked me.
"Well," I said, pausing to think for a moment. "I guess you could say that I've been in a pretty bad mood all day. I had a dream about my ex-girlfriend, and when I woke up I was covered in sweat. My heart was racing, my hands were shaking, I was angry and disoriented..."
"No," Mark replied. "I meant an update to the blog. How about you update the blog?"
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now I'm going off to make some camomile tea and listen to Burial.
"Well," I said, pausing to think for a moment. "I guess you could say that I've been in a pretty bad mood all day. I had a dream about my ex-girlfriend, and when I woke up I was covered in sweat. My heart was racing, my hands were shaking, I was angry and disoriented..."
"No," Mark replied. "I meant an update to the blog. How about you update the blog?"
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THANKS, MARK, FOR BEING SO GOD-DAMNED CONSIDERATE! YOU ARE THE WORST FRIEND EVER!!!
AND YOUR FACE IS CREEPY!!!!
Now I'm going off to make some camomile tea and listen to Burial.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Castle Zombiekraft + Birthday Celebration
Sorry about not posting for a while. We've been kind of busy living like medieval serfs.
Allow me to explain.
About two weeks ago, the heating in our apartment went down for good, exposing our poor pasty epidermises to the cold which creeped in through cracks between doors, through window panes and pipes. As a last ditch effort, a redoubt was created. A fortress, if you will.
It's name? Castle Zombiekraft.
Or here, the fair structure in full, placed in the center of our living room:
Huddled together against the cold, we valiantly shivered ourselves to sleep night after night. Eventually the landlord deigned to hear our complaints, and construction began on a new central heating system, which was to take 8 days to complete.
In the meantime, here is a picture of my roommate Anthony working on his laptop, on a cot within Castle Zombiekraft:
In this time, most of my energy was expended in shivering, so I apologize for my lack of updates.
I ask your humble forgiveness and will attempt to placate you with this video created by roommates Anthony and Mark (along with help from our friends David and Adriel) in commemoration of my six-and-twentieth birthday, which might have been titled "My Roommate Timothy".
Enjoy
Allow me to explain.
About two weeks ago, the heating in our apartment went down for good, exposing our poor pasty epidermises to the cold which creeped in through cracks between doors, through window panes and pipes. As a last ditch effort, a redoubt was created. A fortress, if you will.
It's name? Castle Zombiekraft.
Or here, the fair structure in full, placed in the center of our living room:
Huddled together against the cold, we valiantly shivered ourselves to sleep night after night. Eventually the landlord deigned to hear our complaints, and construction began on a new central heating system, which was to take 8 days to complete.
In the meantime, here is a picture of my roommate Anthony working on his laptop, on a cot within Castle Zombiekraft:
In this time, most of my energy was expended in shivering, so I apologize for my lack of updates.
I ask your humble forgiveness and will attempt to placate you with this video created by roommates Anthony and Mark (along with help from our friends David and Adriel) in commemoration of my six-and-twentieth birthday, which might have been titled "My Roommate Timothy".
Enjoy
Monday, January 19, 2009
Friday Night Fever
The night before the highly-anticipated three-day weekend, the roommates stocked the apartment as though preparing for a siege. We bought Sour Gummies, sunflower seeds, Coca-Cola Classic (remember, Mark won't drink diet) & beer. Mark always buys one chocolate bar, one fruit-flavored candy, and something salty. Mark also purchased big Budweisers.
Here Mark shows off his big Budwesier, which he has inexplicably decided to place in a beer cozy proclaiming "Instant Redneck: Just add beer."
So impressed by the size of the beer bottle, Mark & Anthony insisted we show the "actual size" of the bottle by comparison with Anthony's forearm.
Anthony then proceeded to insist we show the bottle's "actual size" in comparison to his wang. Fortunately we stopped him at the last possible moment before he got too carried away.
With victuals and provisions well-stocked, we began our three-day sojourn. We had resolved to play video games and watch Lost until we passed out. Anthony had bought a new XBox game which we popped open and fired up. It was 8pm on Friday night and the long weekend was just beginning.
Mark lasted until exactly 8:30pm.
Having settled himself on the comfy chair with his blanket to keep him warm, he passed out half an hour into the weekend extravaganza.
THE END
Here Mark shows off his big Budwesier, which he has inexplicably decided to place in a beer cozy proclaiming "Instant Redneck: Just add beer."
So impressed by the size of the beer bottle, Mark & Anthony insisted we show the "actual size" of the bottle by comparison with Anthony's forearm.
Anthony then proceeded to insist we show the bottle's "actual size" in comparison to his wang. Fortunately we stopped him at the last possible moment before he got too carried away.
With victuals and provisions well-stocked, we began our three-day sojourn. We had resolved to play video games and watch Lost until we passed out. Anthony had bought a new XBox game which we popped open and fired up. It was 8pm on Friday night and the long weekend was just beginning.
Mark lasted until exactly 8:30pm.
Having settled himself on the comfy chair with his blanket to keep him warm, he passed out half an hour into the weekend extravaganza.
THE END
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Whose poo?
"Okay, WHOSE POO IS IN THE BOWL?"
As Anthony and I went to see what all the fuss was about, Mark opened the door to the bathroom suddenly. "Somebody pooed in the toilet and didn't flush. WHO DID IT?"
All three of us denied being the excrementor in question, and a round of accusations commenced.
"I didn't do it, I just got home," Anthony said.
"It wasn't me, I haven't pooped all day," I said.
"Okay, listen: maybe somebody snuck in..." Mark began.
"And pooped in our toilet?" Anthony finished incredulously.
"Well, somebody did it," Mark insisted.
Later that evening, I caught Mark before he went to bed.
"Goodnight, Mark."
"'Night."
He walked into his darkened room, then abruptly turned around.
"Tim? You remember when there was the poo in the bowl and we didn't know whose it was?" Mark asked.
"Yes."
"Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure it was me."
As Anthony and I went to see what all the fuss was about, Mark opened the door to the bathroom suddenly. "Somebody pooed in the toilet and didn't flush. WHO DID IT?"
All three of us denied being the excrementor in question, and a round of accusations commenced.
"I didn't do it, I just got home," Anthony said.
"It wasn't me, I haven't pooped all day," I said.
"Okay, listen: maybe somebody snuck in..." Mark began.
"And pooped in our toilet?" Anthony finished incredulously.
"Well, somebody did it," Mark insisted.
Later that evening, I caught Mark before he went to bed.
"Goodnight, Mark."
"'Night."
He walked into his darkened room, then abruptly turned around.
"Tim? You remember when there was the poo in the bowl and we didn't know whose it was?" Mark asked.
"Yes."
"Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure it was me."
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