The Blog I Never Use

So this is exactly like a roommate I once had (I actually kind of liked him -- no it wasn't Trey), except for a few minor things 1. Replace deadly marshal arts skills with an incorrect knowledge of practically everything which he has to give to you as advice 2. Replace the breakfast table silence with a series of stories that make the X-Files look like the Six-o'clock News, but which he claims are gospel truth 3. Replace the former roommate who died in an unusual way with the worst roommate ever who threatened the world's best roommate with an 18 inch game-night baseball bat and was moved into the apartment of people who, if Karma exists, will soon win $42 billion tax-free dollars, even if they have experimented on puppies with mustard gas for the last ten years while eating babies and bathing in the fresh blood of virgins in a brothel where they worked as owner/employees when they weren't too busy selling meth to kindergarteners and giving them free guns with every purchase 4. replace stealthy escapes from the apartment and mysterious absences with . . . no . . . wait . . . those are about right.