I am so obviously the worst
My boy left last night. Left me to go party it up with the music industry elite at the VMA pre-party stuff and whatnot. He is not so good on the plane, anxiety and fear of flying and all that. After I get him okay to actually go and get on the flight with no problems, I finish my night of work, and down a double stoli tonic in efforts to pretend like I too am doing something interesting, some kind of activity.
I take the car home, do some painting touch ups, check in on the flight, get some hummus and carrots and potato chips I had bought earlier and laid down on my bed to watch tv.
I wake up at 5 something, relatively confused and cursing myself for not being there to pick the phone up and congratulate for making it. On top of being angry at myself for just passing out like I sometimes do (this has happened on more than one occasion when he has called me and I have been sleeping right through the phone), I am also greeted with something like a clutter of voices in the living room. Christ. T is having a mini party in the living room. I open my door and hello 9 people all sitting in my living room, most of them smoking, and drinking beer. It is now 6:30 and they are doing the same thing.
It must be nice to run a business and stay up until fucking 6,7,8 am and wake up at 3 in the afternoon every day. But it’s really not my life. And this smoking really needs to stop. I quit, my dog reacts pretty violently to it, and it’s just nasty to wake up in the morning and be greeted with clouds of cigarette filth. Granted, if we had a window or two to open and air the place out, it would certainly be easier, but we don’t and my t-shirt right now smells like I have been hanging out in the smokiest bar ever. My lungs hurt and I just wish I could have my nice place and not have to deal with this drama. His friend told me, if you want to tell us to shut up, please do. But it’s too late. I am already up, the house already smells like garbage, and there is nothing I can do about it. I have had the smoking conversation with T about it, but he seems to neglect being able to understand NOT wanting to smell like ten million dirty ashtrays at the end of the day, or morning, be it as it may.
Anyways. The TV, the main reason I don’t hear my phone, I have gotten used to falling asleep to since E never ever sleeps without it. Now it is off, and the traffic drowns it out. The TV also drowned out the voices of the 9 people in the living room too, for a time.
Hmph.. Why does this all have to be so incredibly lame?
Yes.
I will kill your roommate.
I love you, Francis. XOXO
wow, that’s really fucking rude.
Smokers are so used to being shoved outside to smoke.
Or being told to blow out all their smokeyness through an exhaust fan stationed in a window… inside an apartment.
‘Keep your arm OUTSIDE the car door window if you’re gonna smoke!’, we’re told.
And most of us understand.
We just have to be told how bothersome our smoke is?
Your roommate is buying a bunch of nice new stuff for people to spew smoke all over.
So gay.
Seems you’ve already been discussing this with him.
*Failed to skip ahead, first*
Um… before the final recourse of my roommate having me blow all my smoke through a window fan –in a room not common to the both of us– i tried blowing the smoke, instead… inside one of those mechanical hepa filters.
We sat it on our coffee table.
It seemed to work just fine… but less then two weeks later the air filter reeked of smoke itself.
However powerful it was, it really couldn’t handle smoke being streamlined into it.
The window fans though… with a dual setting allowing for air to be suctioned out of them… they work pretty damn well.
I don’t have a problem smoking outside but it does get kind of chilly doing so in the winter time.