1 February 2008...5:42 pm

Thirsty And Miserable Always Wanting More

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My roommate James has been spending most of his time at his studio in Trenton–they’re trying to start an artists’ colony, he told me last week, but so far I’m the only artist there–and so he got a subletter for the last month and a half.

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The subletter is this recent LA transplant would-be theater actor (all right, so he got gazillions of points from me for loving the theater. He managed to cash them all in pretty fast.) His name is Greg, and he kept asking me when I’d blog about him.

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I don’t know, I said, should I write about that insane chick who showed up here the other night and sat in the kitchen until you got home?

No, he said, not about that!

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I told him to wait until he did something, and then I’d write about it. Dude’s general M.O. is not doing things; he does not do things like, for example, taking out the trash, buying toilet paper, washing the dishes, or refraining from eating all of our Wheat Thins. Then, last night, he did something!

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Greg’s room had flooded weeks ago, because the radiator broke. He had already used my bike towel to sop it up, and when he left to go to rehearsal he said Emma, can you keep an eye on my room for me? I said yes, and then when the flooding got much worse, I used Spencer’s sheets, too, because we had no other towels left.

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When he got home he thanked me, and I said, But these are Spencer’s, so can you just take them to the laundromat? He said sure. Once the flooding stopped he put all of the wet sheets and towels into plastic bags in the corner of the kitchen. After about a week, they started smelling; also, it’s an extremely small kitchen.

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Finally, when I was bringing my clothing to the laundry the other morning, Collette said I don’t think Greg’s ever going to do anything with those wet towels. I said she was probably right, even though I didn’t want to admit it, and I lugged the whole smelly mess to a laundromat on Rivington, instead of my usual laundromat on Stanton, because I was so embarrassed by the grossness. Greg never asked where the towels went.

The Walkmen_Don’t Forget Me.mp3

Tonight when he came home I said Greg, can you give me some money for those towels? I brought them to the laundry.

He said, Uh, I don’t think that was my fault.

I said it happened in your room. How about eight dollars, that’s what it usually is, I haven’t gotten them yet because I haven’t been home from work in time. If you think eight dollars is too much, give me less.

He said But do you think it was my fault?

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Greg, it happened in your room! If it had happened in my room I would have dealt with it.

He said but you put those towels in there while I was gone.

I said you asked me to. It was what anyone would have done, what about the people downstairs? And they were Spencer’s sheets! Which you said you’d get cleaned.

I said that?

Yes!

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Are you okay? You seem riled up.

I am not riled up, Greg, I am upset that you left twenty pounds of wet towels in our kitchen until they grew mold. I am not riled up. And, I’m pissed that you don’t pull your weight as a roommate. But fine, it’s almost over.

I don’t, I don’t pull my weight as a roommate?

You don’t take out the trash, you don’t do the dishes.

I’ve been trying to take out the trash, and look, I’ve been working a lot–

I work a lot too–

And I know Collette’s left me notes about the dishes, but one of those times, there were, like two or three dishes in the sink that were mine. And I’m working during the day and she’s here.

Like a housewife? Whatever. It’s almost over. You’re moving out. I just need you to pay me for the laundry.

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Okay. But also, things have happened to me, too.

Things have happened to you?

Well, like, someone’s been eating a lot of my food.

Oh. Sorry. I mean, sucks.

Like, last night. I had an apple here, that I bought because I was feeling sick, and I went to bed and it was there and when I woke up it wasn’t.

Okay. I didn’t eat your apple, Greg.

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Really? Because Collette didn’t sleep here last night, it was just you, and then it wasn’t here. I bought an apple and an orange, and then the apple was gone.

Are you serious? I’d tell you if I ate your apple.

Okay.

Okay.

Are you all right? Everything’s all right?

Everything is great. Just pay me for the laundry.

I went into my room and started typing. Furiously. Five minutes passed. He was sitting in the kitchen.

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So, you really didn’t eat it?

No!

Okay. It’s just that, you know, I’ve lost a lot.

What are you talking about?

I mean, not lost a lot. But, you know, food. I hate to have to ask.

Oh god. I’m never even here. And I would tell you if I ate your apple. It’s an apple.

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[Buy more of The Walkmen here. Buy some Harry Nilsson here while you're at it; the above tracks are from the 2006 album "Pussy Cats," which is a complete cover of the 1974 Nilsson album of the same name. John Lennon produced it, and they originally wanted to call it "Cat Pussies" or something; a veritable embarrassment of riches and also our favorite things.]

Our other favorite thing is Hamilton writing songs about us:

The Walkmen_Emma Get Me A Lemon.mp3

3 Comments

  • If you want, you can tell Greg I ate his apple. I’m kind of roommate-food-thief anyway, so I might as well have.

    How come commenting on your posts always feels like confession?

  • I would be really pissed off that you got me looking like a vampire in the first picture here and then followed it up with the best picture I took of you, except that you included the picture of my marvelous table setting.

  • I hope my sheets are alright. Are these the ones with the polka dots? Because if they are…I really like them, so I would be miserable and possibly resort to starving myself to death if they are not in pristine condition.


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