Wednesday, February 12, 2014

An Open Letter to Wil

Dear Wil,

I feel there are a few things I have a hard time discussing with you in person. Things that are causing me great distress. And I feel the only healthy way to share my concerns with you is to blog about it so that hundreds of strangers can be all up in our personal business. It’s how healthy people deal with issues. Trust me. And so here it goes…

Let’s start with the fridge situation. When it comes to your refrigerator, I know there are important things that I should be concerned about: the five year old pizza boxes, the poor choice in cheap beer, the lack of any fruits or vegetables, that bag in the back with its mystery contents that has been there since I first started sleeping with you and thought you might actually have bottled water but discovered that the flammable tap water was your only source of hydration. But alas, these things do not upset me. What I find most distressing is your lack of any dairy products. How can you drink coffee without creamer? How do you eat cereal without milk? How can you get through the week without devouring at least one block of cheese? Where do you get your calcium? How are you still alive? Do you take supplements? Or do you just hate the idea of healthy bones? I really want to know. I need to know.

But let’s move on, shall we? I am well aware that if I were a good girlfriend I would clean your apartment for you. Maybe even vacuum and dust. Possibly mop your floors. Pick up the condom wrappers. Throw out the gazillion empty cigarette packs. But as you now know, I am not a good girlfriend. I am lazy, easily distracted (you have cable, so you are partly to blame) and your apartment would take days to clean. I understand why you don’t do it; it is exhausting to even think about. But can’t you just go to the bar, manipulate some poor drunk girl into cleaning your house and then toss her to the curb? I mean, what is the point of your brilliant deviousness if you do not use it for the greater good, like a clean environment for us to play video games and have sex in? Please consider this option before I swipe your credit card and hire a maid for you. I don’t want to steal from you this early in our relationship. It never ends well when I do.

More importantly, I am deeply concerned about your Sriracha sauce hoarding. When you first ordered three GIANT bottles of Sriracha, I thought, “Wil really loves hot sauce. He must eat it constantly.” But then I saw the five drops you put on your chimichanga and, well, I was shocked. If you had Sriracha for every meal that means you would have 15 drops a day. According to my calculations, each bottle holds 7,865,992 drops of sauce. That’s enough to last you 524,399 days. That’s 1,440 years, Wil!! Per bottle!! Do you know something the rest of us do not? Is the apocalypse upon us and we are all going to be living in a world where Sriracha is the new currency? Because, honestly, that is the only reasonable explanation for the massive amount of hot sauce you now own. Either that or you’re a vampire. And as your girlfriend, apocalypse or vampire, I think this is something I deserve know.

Finally, we really need to clean that sex towel. And soon. Because at this point, I think the towel itself could get me pregnant. But thank you for always leaving it on my side of the bed. And you say you aren’t romantic!

Your Concerned Girlfriend,
Seeks

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