The Nightmare Before Thanksgiving

I had a bit of a fun experience the week of thanksgiving.

My roommate Asher, the felon with an IQ that couldn't prop up a hot weels car, is humping some train wreck he brought home. I caught a brief glimpse of her when he was somewhat forcefully herding what I thoughtwas a fat, homeless wookie towards one of our apartment's washrooms, and I specifically remember thinking, "Oh how sweet, a rescue pet."

Please understand, there is no single trait to this person that earned my scorn or even incited my gag reflex this strongly...it has more to do with all of the traits acting in unison. See, when I glanced away from the commercial i was watching to eyeball whatever it was making the floor shake as it lumbered drunkenly down the hall, my eyes were met with something half Tim Burton, half Honey I Blew Up The Kid And I Ate It And I'm Still Hungry.

Beneath the tangled mess of what I think was hair, I caught sight of a pasty, sagging face, bruised faintly with two purple spots of mascara, as if to remind the world that yes, this is a face and yes, here are the eyes. The lips drooped in something half way between an intentional pout and the grimace of a mouth that just swallowed an infant with a full diaper. Whole.

My roommate saw me, saw me see It, did a glass-rattling about face and shoved It back down the hall. And I went back to pretending that I cared about Vh1.

The Creature, once squeezed back in to Asher's 7x9 room, bitched for a good half hour about how she "really likes him a lot" and though I heard him respond, the only words I understood were "don't you ever call me an asshole." Apparently i missed some prominent plot points in their conversation, but i was fifty feet away in the living room watching music videos on late night TV, so i forgive myself.

The love affair escalated in to sobbing and a couple well timed shouts of 'DUUUUUUDE' when, after a brief silence, she started yelping.

Now, I assumed he was showing her pictures of cake and then hiding them, but it's just as possible she had summoned a gargantuan burst of energy and rolled on her back. A person of her girth could seriously damage any partner if anything relating to cowgirl is attempted, and in damaging, lose said partner, which is an unacceptable risk for such yetis, so without a forklift or the jaws of life, standard missionary is generally the best way to go. But I digress.

My ears, though impressive and mostly all powerful, can't usually translate crazy woman noises (a redundant title, I know), so I decide there was nothing for it; I turned down the TV and sat back in my chair, intent on figuring out just what the hell Sasquatches baby sister was doing down the hall.

It became readily apparent that they were at least attempting 'the nasty' when her cries became slightly more joyful (ruling out the whole cake+picture+peekaboo scenario), though I was a little taken aback by Asher's dangerous use of the old classic, the switcheroo.

See, technically a crazed, crying zeppelin of a woman is not the same as a girl who's saying no, so I'm pretty sure he's safe, but still the whole idea of bedding a female creature who is messily and negatively emoting is one that I avoid out of self preservation and not a little bit of fear.

Tear and name-calling just aren't sexy or safe.

This whole ordeal had gone on for what seemed a respectably long time when I heard him yelling at her that he'd "got nothing to prove to her," "who gives a fuck if he couldn't get it up," "why the fuck do you like it so much, I didn't even achieve penetration," and my personal favorite, "no, I don't give a fuck about having my dick in your mouth"

Repeat until sunup, or until vomiting ensues.

Needless to say, I live with some classy kids. Anywho, the sun was not up by the time I finished writing this shit down, but I was sick to my stomach, and nausea never blends too well with insomnia, so to stave off madness or boredom I thought I'd share this lovely evening with you via the 'net.

I'd also like to say this opportunity to say that I hope he's drunk, because taking that girl home sober, even out of pity, is an affront to just about anything with a penis.

Except, of course, Lady Gaga.