The Roomie And The Giant Pumpkin

This week:

I am listening to: Wet, Saves the Day, TLC

What I’m pairing my Diet Coke with: Mucinex, packing, and new hair


The Roomie And The Giant Pumpkin

Meghan: I can’t believe he just liked that Instagram photo.

Me: I know right? What is this? He thinks he can like a photo and everything is okay? Why is he even following me anymore?

Meghan: It doesn’t make sense.

Me: Wait, are you talking about your ex or my ex?

Meghan: I was talking about my ex.

Me: I wasn’t talking about your ex.

Meghan: Wait, so both of our exes played the insta-peace offering game at the same time?

Me: Yes! I thought you saw it?

Meghan: I thought you saw Jeff comment on my photo of the grilled cheese!

Me: So you didn’t see my ex like my photo with all the seaglass?

Meghan: No. Moving on. Let’s make spinach artichoke dip.

Me: And watch COPS?

Meghan: Yes. I literally recorded like 20 episodes.

This had become our thing. We would watch COPS and eat dip. We also loved magazines, and I loved bitching about the ads.

Me: There are five different birth control ads in this magazine! Five! You know, I have a friend who named her baby Skyla… like 5 years ago. Now there is a birth control is named Skyla.

Meghan: That sucks.

Me: It’s still a nice name.

Meghan: SShhhh! Pay attention this guy on COPS he is naked and bleeding—

Me: Ew.

Meghan: Remember when you dated a cop?

Me: False. A cop asked me out.

Meghan: Yeah and he got your number.

Me: ANNNNNDDD that was it. I need a napkin. What is that smell?

I walked over to the oven.

Me: What the hell?

Our oven racks were leaning up against the wall. I peered inside the oven to find an entire whole pumpkin. Not gutted. Not cut. Just giant fucking pumpkin.


Me: Okay, did you do this?

Meghan: I hate pumpkin anything. Trader Joes has been ruined. Like who the hell wants to eat pumpkin macaroni and cheese? That’s just wrong.

Me: Our apartment is going to catch on fire after this pumpkin explodes in the oven! Then we will be orange and homeless.

I knocked on Veronica’s door. Veronica, our third and last roommate was a doctoral student from Germany. She was very smart. She got into a program that only accepts 5 people a year.

Veronica: Hi.

Me: Are you cooking something…in the oven?

Veronica: Yes, but I don’t think it’s cooking very well.

She laughed.

Me: Okay, well I think–

Veronica: I think the temperature needs to be hotter.

Me: Okay, well what are you trying to make?

Veronica: Pumpkin, with honey and cinnamon.

Me: I think you should cut it? And take out the insides? Throw away the seeds? Put it on a pan? How did you cook it back home?

Veronica: I don’t know? Someone always made it for me.

Me: Okay, well how about you Google this or something?

She ended up taking it out of the oven and chopping it up in huge slabs that looked like orange whale blubber. They were all over the kitchen for a week.

A week later Veronica and I went grocery shopping together. I left with groceries for the week, and she left with a single pineapple.

Me: Is that all you got?

Veronica: Yes.

Me: Are you going to put that entire sucker in the microwave, or what?

Veronica: Why would I do that?

Me: The oven? Pumpkin? Pineapple? No?

We made it back to the apartment.

Meghan: I’m very worried about what’s going to happen to that pineapple.

Me: I’m allergic to pineapple.

Meghan: Of course you are. Yo. I think you will really like this song.

Me: Why?

Meghan: I heard it in Urban Outfitters.