An Ode to Old Roommates

I have mentioned Clint and Vic on several occasions on this blog. As most of you know, they were my roommates when I lived in Indiana. After a slew of failed and awful roommate experiences in college (with the exception of one- I know you’re reading this Peach and I will always love you!), these two guys were really the best set of roommates a girl could ask for.

They were the guys who had nothing but condiments and salsa in the fridge when I moved in.

They were the guys who made me wear a climbing helmet once because I really was that intoxicated.

They were the guys who were perfectly content with having queso for dinner three nights out of the week.

Clint was the guy who tried to take me to a bar when I was kicked out of my office but they wouldn’t serve me because my wallet (and ID) was in said office. So we did doughnuts in the snow covered parking lot instead.

They were the guys who thought Mexican food was the cure for EVERYTHING.

They were the guys who decided getting drunk and eating pizza at Barnaby’s was a much better idea than slitting my wrists when my car broke down or when I had a bad day at work.

Vic was the guy who simply said, “Good job” when I walked into the house at 4pm the day after I went to a wedding still wearing the dress I left in.

They were the guys who helped me pack the ridiculous amount of shit I owned when I moved to Fargo. Clint also drove 12 hours it took to get me there.

They were the guys who slipped pages from a trashy porno magazine into said ridiculous amount of crap when we were packing.

Clint was the guy who ran my 10K with me (without registering or training for that matter...) to make sure I didn’t stop by screaming “Come on Jeney! You can do it! Keep going!” very loud and obnoxiously whenever I slowed down.

They were the guys who taught me how to play Presidents and Assholes... the way it’s supposed to be played.

They were the guys who reminded me every day how big my dog’s head and balls were.

Clint was the one who would talk to me in a Forrest Gump voice because he thought he was clever. And to make me laugh.

They were the guys who awarded me for “calling in sick” to work when I didn’t feel like going.

They were the guys who suggested I start an escort service with them as the product so I could pay off my student loans.

Vic was the one who let me pass out in his bed after I got good and sloshed at a concert while he slept on the couch.

They were the ones who kept the fridge stocked with Miller High Life Light, Keystone, Milwaukee’s Best, and Bud Light… and really nothing else.

They were the best damn roommates I ever had. And I miss them more than Lindsay Lohan misses her court dates.