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“Don’t use that pot,” he barked, yanking it from my hands and placing it back on the burner where is sat empty every day since I moved in.
There were really no rules. We were both adults, civilized and kind of friends. The pot was the first rule. I found out that afternoon. I didn’t ask why because it really wasn’t that big of a deal. I’ll find another pot.
I was a paying boarder with one bedroom and one bathroom. We were friends, meeting when I worked the front desk at fitness center at my college over summer break. He was alumni who lived in the area and knew to come into the gym when the manager was off duty and the student help didn’t care who came and worked out.
We met again at a different gym and he asked me if I was interested in renting a room. He just bought a brand new townhouse and needed help paying the mortgage. His original roommate bailed at the last minute. I was living at home but couldn’t afford to move out on my own. It was a good situation.
One night, I couldn’t find another pot. They were all either dirty or too large for a small can of soup. It’s just a pot. I’ll use it, wash it out, dry it and put it back on the stove before he got home. I did all those things except put it back on the burner where it belonged.
“Dude!” he exclaimed. I could hear him from my upstairs bedroom. I walked to the landing and peeked over into the living room. He was staring up at me.
“Did you use the pot?”
Yes mom, I used the pot, is it really that amazing of a pot? Is it an antique? Does it have magical powers? Frankly it wasn’t that special, it took the same amount of time to cook my chicken noodle soup and made it taste kind of odd if we are being honest. This was all going on in my head. All I could think to say was “yeah, sorry, I couldn’t find anything else.”
He seemed embarrassed. He wanted to tell me something, but didn’t know how, so I felt the urge just to ask the origins and history of the magical pot.
He used it every night. It had something to do with boiling a comb to apply Rogaine or actually boiling Rogaine. I stopped listening after a few seconds and stood up to walk to the bathroom.
He continued the explanation while I marveled at how undigested noodles look the same coming out.
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I prefer to slow roast my baby. The meat is tender and just falls of the bone. Yummmoo!
OMG! How completely weird and disgusting! LOL I think we all have awful roommate stories, but yours definitely just outdid all of mine
Am I going to hell for laughing?
Amy-Glad I could win worst roommate story. I think.
you pot-ty mouth
Ha! Is your ex roommie my ex boyfriend? Could be from this story…
Gah! I had to reread the last couple of paragraphs twice to realize what he meant. I had no idea Rogaine needed to be heated. Just stay away from your wife’s waxing pot - that stuff looks good but man it’ll glue your lips together.
From what I remember, I think he had to heat the combs and not really the products. But had to do it before and after use or something. We never really talked about it because it grossed me out.
OH. MY. GOSH.
Love your stuff, Chris. it is so much like me. I had a copper clad big frying pan. Was gonna use it as a fancy thing to hang on the wall. Well, I awoke to the smell of frying bacon. My nephews wife ( Hilliary) had got up extra early and was cooking bacon in it for the whole family. Well, what the hell, it needed to be broke in any how. We had a great breakfast, and now I got a pan I am not afraid of using. tom
Ps I also got the rogaine joke. I dont have to worry about that, but mine is turning white, and it seems alot is mirgatiing south, to my earholes, nostrils, rear end, and other places south. oh well. Too bad. Tom
I reckon I should say about the term ” ear hole” We were riding down the road, and Britteny being about 14 at the time was really getting tired of her brother Joshua being a pest. ( I have some experience, since I was a pest to MY older sister) Mom, tell Josh to quit. He is on my side of the car. Of course, josh kept picking. Finnaly, out of sheer frustration, she said get on your own side, you little ( a-hole,is forbiden, as is b- hole, in our family. she said EARHOLE. That was a new one on me. Britiney is goning to NC State in the fall, and wants to be a Vet. She said sometimes, animals are easier to communicate with than humans. But now i find myself saying it. When someone cuts me off in traffic, or does somthing I percieve wrong, I mutter under my breath, earhole! From the mouths of babes, Chris.
Tom