This weekend, we're going to have a house full of people, so I've been trying like blazes to finish up the minor projects we've got going on. I unpacked the last of the boxes (or cheated and moved them downstairs). I got the paint for the family room. Washed the chocolate milk off the couch. Put the sacrificial goat in the closet.
Actually, I'm kidding on that last one. Although that comment makes me think of my old roommate. I've mentioned these roommates once before; they're the ones that make me think of Three's Company, only there were two guys and one girl, which would be me in case you were wondering.
One time, a Jehovah's Witness came to our door. I'm all about the religious freedom, but I wish people wouldn't exercise it on my front doorstep. Anyway, Janet (the little guy who looks vaguely Satanic) answered the door and listened politely to the beginning of the lady's speech, asked her to hold on a moment, and yelled to me: "Honey, would you put the sacrificial goat in the closet? I think it's eating the throw pillows again."
That woman ran as fast as she could and never came back.
It was fun living in the Three's Company townhouse. There was one time that I had a stalker. One of the many times, actually, because I attract stalkers the same way that I attract freaks in the gym. I wonder if it's my deodorant. So this stalker would follow me on the bus to campus and tell me all about what he wanted to do to me, which is NOT funny at all and actually had me frightened as all heck. This was a couple of weeks before I moved in with the guys, but they already had my back.
One night, I was hanging at their apartment, helping them pack for the move. (Actually, we had a shaving cream fight, but we were ostensibly packing.) And the stalker kept driving around the block past their place, so when it came time to leave, they walked me outside. First out the door was Chrissy, who you might remember was a big hulk of a guy. Paint him green and he totally could have been in the movie. And he lumbered out the door and growled a lot, not like the guy in the car could have heard him, but I think he was psyching himself up just in case.
Then came me, all frightened and twitchy like a little bunny.
And then I heard a noise from behind me, a shrieky, frightening noise that had me quaking in my little boots. Down the stairs thundered Janet (reminder: little guy who looks like Satan) with a samurai sword held over his head, bellowing at the top of his lungs. He charged past us in a frenzy and started chopping the hell out of the bushes. The little old couple that lived in the front of the building took one look outside, saw him chopping their plants into kibble, made a sound kind of like "eep," and shut their window. Smart, smart people.
And then the stalker drove by, saw the insanity that was my roommate-to-be and his big pointy sword, and sped away so fast that he almost rear ended another car. The bastard never bothered me again.