joe crow

so i dog-sat all weekend while the 'rents were out playing.

and i come home late last night after closing at the store... to a brother laying on the couch, watching movies with an empty pizza box in front of him... and his girlfriend... in his room. CLEANING it. and he is letting her. she said she just wanted to do it. i say she got tired of wallowing through the mire that is considered "Z's room". i gave the boy a ration of shit about it and he says, all defensively, "she said she had all this energy and wanted to clean. she even wanted to clean the living room, but i made her stop"

i think i might have to call BULLSHIT on this one, folks.
she got tired of the place looking like a dump. the end.

and THEN, she leaves and shortly after, the phone rings. it's her. the conversation goes like this:
... it's the stick on the right side of the steering wheel.
... yeah, push it all the way down, and then up one notch.
... no, one notch.
... the right side.
... then you aren't doing it right. (at this point i am thinking, what on earth could be going on in this girl's car, that she has to call HIM to figure it out)
... well i guess you have to drive home with the windows down.
... (frustrated voice) well, sorry, i don't know what to tell you.
... yeah. bye.


hmmmm.... so i asked him what that was all about.

him: she couldn't find the windshield wipers.
me: on her OWN car?
him: no, she is in my car.
me: why?
him: because i didn't want to drive her home. i'm tired.
me: so let me get this straight, first you let this girl clean your sty and you lay on the couch watching movies while she does it, THEN you are "too tired" to drive her home so you send her off in YOUR piece of shit car to drive herownself home? (at this point i am getting a little vocal about it.)
him: yeah.
me: that's really shitty. and sad.
him: we agreed upon it earlier. she said she was fine with it.
me: of course she did. she is one of those types of girls who does anything you say because she doesn't want to make waves. she cleaned your room and then drove herself home in your car, for fuck's sake.
him: whatever.

and that brought us to the conclusion of that conversation. nice, huh?

BUT WAIT, there's more.
i also noticed, when i came home to get new clothes, that the computer i had turned off the day prior was miraculously on. and i know the cats didn't do it. and i know the aliens didn't do it. that leaves one other creature. Z. so, i turned to computer off when i left.
and when i got home on sunday, it was on again. those damned aliens.

and then this morning, when i was straightening up the kitchen, i decided, on a whim, to check the likker cabinet. hmm... i don't remember the tequila being there. and that bottle of rum used to live at the back of the cabinet. gee... that's strange.


IT WOULD ONLY BE STRANGE IF I DIDN'T HAVE ANYONE ELSE LIVING HERE.

but i do. and i asked him about it. because he had mentioned getting drunk at some point during the weekend. i asked him what he drank.
him: uhh... beer and tequila.
me: MY tequila?
him: yeah. i'll buy you some more. (keep in mind he is only 19 and i will probably be the one to actually BUY the tequila)
me: you mean the tequila that i got on my 21st birthday that i save for special occasions.
him: what?
me: you mean the t e q u i l a that i got on my 21st birthday that i s a v e for special o c c a s i o n s.
him: oh. i didn't know.
me: BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T ASK! just because you live here does not give you free reign over anything housed within these walls. i turned off the computer this weekend and you still got on it. we bought beer so that WE could drink it and you drink my tequila as well. you cant just get into peoples stuff without asking. if you want something. ASK FIRST!
him: uh. ok. fine.

grrrrrr.....and i marched off to my room. to tell all you nice people about it.

children. i swear.