Just me and Sogs

Preface: Mind you, I already know Sogs is avoiding Yogi, me, and our friend because we stay up late watching old Masterchef episodes and he always comes out of his room when no one else is around – be it at 11PM or 1AM depending on when we leave the living room. It’s kind of weird that it’s come to this point that he would rather avoid walking through the living room to get to the kitchen and eat or to go to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I wonder if he is doing is consciously (as I wonder about a lot of the things he does).

So when Yogi left the house for the rest of the month, it left me and Sogs alone.

Context: So, it’s notable that prior to Yogi’s departure, our sink had clogged once and we called our landlord and he sent his friend over to fix it. It was fixed, but while we were out for Yogi’s farewell dinner, Sogs texted us telling that the sink was clogged once more.

When we came home, Yogi saw the sink was not clogged. I checked too and it was fine. We even ran some water to test it out and it was fine.

So I told Sogs that I wasn’t comfortable explaining some nonexistent problem to an actual plumber and asked him to arrange it for a time he would be home. He responded to that by cancelling the plumber visit. After the conversation, I was informed I was being a bit savage. In all honesty, it wasn’t my intention – but being as I am, I was wracked with guilt. I mean, I recognize that I could’ve been nicer. But I’m 99% sure he got the hint that I harbour hatred towards him from that interaction (I hadn’t spoken a word to him since he got home, and he’s been home for approximately a month, I never make eye contact, and my brain honestly doesn’t store memories of his face so I don’t actually remember seeing his face if I do look at it, in retrospect – since he’s come home).

Day 1: Yogi hadn’t left yet, but she wasn’t in the kitchen when I entered in the morning to discover the sink was, indeed, clogged.

However, when I saw Yogi later, she informed me that when she was having breakfast, the sink was fine and she’d managed to wash her dishes, too. But when she left the kitchen and returned a while later, Sogs was in the kitchen and the sink was clogged.

Now, I’m not trying to suggest anything but there’s strong correlative evidence there.

Anyway, I had too much pride to admit he was right. I went out for a bit, came back, and the sink was fine again. I poured a bit of hot water and vinegar down it, following the advice of a friend.

I left for the rest of the afternoon.

When I returned, the sink was full of murky water, to the brim – like Sogs decided to do his dishes (not that he washes dishes… or anything really… he just sticks it all in the dishwasher and turns the dishwasher on and then puts everything back when it’s done… even if it’s still dirty…) and then didn’t notice that the sink filled up.

This spawned the theory that Sogs had done it on purpose to spite me and tbh I have no intention of mentioning anything because I know I can’t speak to him nicely (my patience has run out) and I’d like to save us both the trouble and the pain. Also, I wouldn’t put it past him to be that petty – to try to hurt me at the expense of hurting himself, too (he’s affected by the sink too, and to be honest, it’s only after he uses it that it becomes clogged anyway).

Day 2: I come home and our recycling box is gone. It strikes me for a moment that perhaps Sogs took out the recycling, saw the Parmesan, and, in a fit of rage, threw the box out too.

But he didn’t.

In fact, he left the stove on to boil water while he left the house. A very responsible, adult thing to do.

He returned with the box a while later. I think he saw the Parmesan. Perhaps his hatred for me has increased. Rest assured, Sogs, it wasn’t me, personally, who threw the Parmesan in there.

Again, though, still avoiding my friend and me. After my friend left, I went to shower and Sogs went to the kitchen to eat dinner at 10PM. He tried to do it really fast too because I think he rushed to finish, etc., when he realized I got out of the shower.

Just another two weeks or so of this and I’ll be in the clear.

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The Turning Point

There’s a moment we keep going back to, reflecting on how truly fucked up our relationship with Soggy was.

The particular incident in question happened early this year.

Yogurt and I wanted to go out for dinner mainly because there was no rice at home and anything we wanted to make that night would’ve required rice as a side.

As a bit of background, when we’d first started living together, potatoes were a staple side to our meals as a carb but as time went on, we shifted more towards rice (which was natural for me, because I come from a household that eats rice everyday, if not for every meal).

So, as the kind roommates we were, we invited Soggy to come out with us and he reacted by opening the fridge and exclaiming, “We have so much food at home!”

To which I responded, “No, but we don’t have rice.”

“So? We have potatoes!” he said, clearly exasperated at the fact that I didn’t want to eat at home because there was no rice.

As a last ditch attempt at trying to get him to understand where I was coming from, I said, “We don’t have any rice at home and I want to eat rice for dinner because I’m Asian.”

And how did the soggy one respond, you ask?

“Well, I’m not Asian but I eat rice every night!”

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You ate rice every night because we cooked for you every night. And you can’t even find it in yourself to respect or understand the fact that I didn’t want to cook that night because there wasn’t any rice left. Not to even mention the fact that your answer was a complete non-sequitur in response to what I was trying to argue.

I didn’t realize it then because in that moment, I was just caught up in the fact that I was starting to feel bad for even wanting to go out in the first place since Soggy started saying how we were all going out a lot and spending a lot of money – even though a part of me was thinking, You don’t have to go, we aren’t forcing you.

I felt so bad, though, that I tried for a compromise (which was a mistake, but this was before I truly understood how much Soggy was actually using me for food), trying to say, “Okay, maybe we can make something with the potatoes…” (because Soggy was so caught up on the fact that we had potatoes)

Even though, really, what I should have done was just walked out the door with Yogurt because fuck you for making me feel bad for not wanting to cook for your ass. It wasn’t even your money we were going to spend on food for us. It wasn’t your time. You were making us stay at home because you couldn’t feed yourself without us.

And that was the really fucked up part – that we stayed home that night to cook for you and that you made me stay at home out of guilt because you needed us to cook for you.

I cooked curry that night, while he sat in his room and did his work, contributing nothing to the meal, as usual, but an empty stomach.

But, of course, he did say, at the end, “Thanks, girls. It was good.”

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La Vie Quotidienne: A Memoir of Everyday Encounters

Living with the soggy roommate is no easy task, mind you. Naturally, it entails endless awkward encounters and eyeroll-worthy conversations that make you wonder why any divine power, hypothetical or not, would want to wish this suffering upon you.

While the last 10 months have certainly provided me with a fair share of these moments, the last few weeks have brought an unprecedented tension into the house, and consequently, countless eyerolls from me. Here’s just a sampling of a few from the past several days.

May 30th, 2016: SR looks at me disdainfully while I blend my smoothie in close proximity to him…ok bitch, side-eye me while you fry your sad fucking bologna and eggs like you do every miserable morning of your life. News flash: running for 20 minutes and coming back to processed meats and frozen food will not transform your soggy body, that damage is probably irreversible.

May 30, 2016: Despite our four-person table being transformed into a three-person table from being pushed into the kitchen corner for months now, soggy had found it perfectly acceptable to attempt to squeeze into the corner in order to consume his usual, very delectable breakfast of fried eggs and bologna while Milk, our other roommate, and I, were enjoying a pleasant morning conversation. Not only did it not make sense, for he could have easily eaten on the counter, it made the situation very awkward for all of us. I see that table’s seating transformation as a symbol of the social atmosphere of our house–and him violating that was uncomfortable to say the least.

May 31, 2016: Again while enjoying the solace of each other’s company, Milk and I were abruptly disturbed by none other than the sogmaster himself sitting IN BETWEEN us, just to eat a bowl of fucking cereal. …..Seriously, you couldn’t eat it anywhere else in the house like, say, YOUR ROOM?? Where you spend most of your time anyways?? Seems legit.

There are certainly more to come, until next time..

xoxo Yogi

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A Comprehensive List of Things Thrown Out

1.) Zucchini: this wasn’t thrown out as much as it was washed down the sink. Because who knew that a zucchini left in the fridge in a pool of water for three months would become a nest for maggots that disintegrated upon water impact? Not the soggy roommate!

2.) Parmesan: this should have been refrigerated after opening but it was left in our cabinet for roughly eight months before any of us realized that it had actually expired in January. It was thrown out mid May, mostly in the heat of the moment as we realized that it had gone bad four months ago. It flew into the recycling bin, without the knowledge of the soggy one. In fact, he was still steadily consuming it post-expiration, post-non refrigeration. Did you know that Parmesan is not supposed to be yellow? Neither did the soggy roommate.

3.) Ground beef: it was on special so it was already going bad when it was bought. It was sitting in the fridge for maybe five days before it was actually used to make anything. By the time one week rolled around, it had been exposed to open air (because God forbid the soggy roommate would actually wrap it up in Saran Wrap to at least make some effort towards saving it – even though he will claim that he did but you don’t leave meat open in the fridge and the original wrapping it comes in does not count) and was starting to turn pink and brown. I reminded him meat doesn’t keep in the fridge for that long, to which he responded, “I know.” But if he did, we wouldn’t be here.

4.) Mayo: two huge jars of mayo sat in our cabinet when they’d expired in November. They were only thrown out by the soggy roommate mid May after being reminded approximately three times to take care of it. The first time we asked him to look at his things in the cabinet to throw out, he made a half-assed effort to only throw out an opened RealLemon Juice while keeping most of his expired things that we were actually concerned about in the pantry. Apparently it’s so hard to part with expired mayo? We told him a second time when he told him to take out the trash (because he basically didn’t the whole semester) and he only took out the trash. The third time, I just straight up told him to his face because he’s an infant who needs to be spoken to directly before anything actually registers in his head as something he should really do. They were gone the next day. It was a revelation.

5.) Tomato sauce: this was opened and covered in Saran Wrap but not even Saran Wrap could save it from blackening after being pushed to the back of the fridge and sitting there for about a week before we noticed. We took the liberty to throw it out because re: blackening.

The only pity is that, of all the gross things thrown out, he isn’t aware that half of them happened because he isn’t aware that most of the things he puts in his body is actually expired.

-Mirukeu x

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The Zucchini Chronicles: An Introduction

When I moved into this sweaty apartment last August, I never would have imagined that my living situation would deteriorate to this point. What started out as a reasonable, if not almost pleasant, experience gradually evolved into me hating every second that I have to spend in this god-forsaken place. Why you ask? Blame none other than what Milk and I have labelled “the soggy roommate”.

Who is the soggy roommate? The soggy roommate is an entity which has permeated every facet of our life at home. Instead of safety, what we live in is a perpetual state of fear– Fear of the soggy roommate and the terror that he inflicts. Everyone in this house has their own story to tell about their experiences with this creature of filth, so allow me to share my perspective.

Upon first encounter, the soggy roommate, whom I will from now on refer to as simply ‘SR’,  was a relatively quiet, albeit nice individual. He seemed friendly, and for awhile was a nice companion to watch movies or play Xbox with. However, as the cold of winter set in, things began to change a little.

This tale requires a little bit of backstory. Rewind to Autumn: Milk and I had taken on the roles of the unspoken caretakers of SR. In other words, every night, Milk and I would labor in the kitchen, cooking rather delicious food to feed ourselves, and SR. Would SR contribute to these dinners in the form of manual or monetary compensation? No. Did he every show an appropriate amount of gratitude towards us for feeding his soggy body? Of course not. Eating the food we created seemed to be but a necessary task– a chore even, done only for the sole purpose of sustaining his miserable existence.

Ah, his miserable existence. I can imagine the only thing worse than living with SR is being him. This is the man(child) who, either knowingly or unknowingly, consumes a multitude of expired food, be it parmesan cheese, ranch dressing, or even MEAT. Yes kids, he left a wiener in the fridge for probably two weeks and then put it in his wretched spaghetti and ATE it. And thats not the only thing he’s left in the fridge for an extended period. As Milk mentions, we have taken the liberty of throwing out many near-rotting foodstuffs, such as mushrooms and blackening tomato sauce. The final straw for me and SR, however, actually was several weeks ago, while SR was out of the country.

In February, SR had made a laughable attempt at pretending to eat healthy, a serious divergence from his usual prepackaged, processed, and/or frozen meals. This was in the form of purchasing a package of mushrooms, and the main villain of this chapter, a zucchini. Luckily, we were all saved from the mushrooms by our good judgement early on, and managed to throw them out when they clearly were starting to go bad. However, as weeks passed, the bottom-lefthand crisper of our fridge became a taboo subject amongst us. It was something we all just simply ignored, because we all knew that what was decomposing in the drawer was something none of us, but SR of course, wanted nor were obligated to deal with. Finally, one fateful afternoon, a champion was chosen, and unfortunately Milk and I’s fellow roommate was that person.

Not only had that zucchini rotted to the state that it had turned black, but it had been housing some…unwanted guests. In our fridge. The one that we all share. Something snapped in my mind that day, a bubbling hatred that had been festering in my soul for months had finally boiled over. From then on, I had sworn SR as my mortal enemy.

Over the months, Milk and I had seen SR’s true colors, ones that exist simultaneously in both contradiction and harmony. One the one hand, SR is the embodiment of a privileged white male who expects everything to be done for him and holds little regard for those around him (to the dismay of Milk and I, who view him as strolling through life with convenient ease). Yet on the other hand, he is a manchild, who lacks the necessary skills to function independently, and is clearly struggling to survive without mommy to hold his hand through everything.

His other crimes include, but are not limited to: stealing Milk’s food, leaving foul odors in our bathroom (presumably a result of his abhorrent eating habits), being a public nuisance (i.e. chewing loudly, not picking up on social cues) etc.

Through this blog, Milk and I can hopefully alleviate some of the pressure weighing down upon us, and can power us through the remaining days until our lease ends and we can live in peace once again.

–Yogi

 

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