My roommate's name is Dave, as you may have gathered. He's taller than me. He's lived in Athens longer than me. He's several years ahead of me in our program. The utilities are in his name. He's engaged to a lovely woman.
Whenever I'm giddy and need someone to gloat to, I find him, as I did this morning when an essay I was working on went very well. Whenever I need to vent about the department's functioning or a particular assignment, I find him for sympathy. If there were any bullies about, I'd probably ask Dave to walk me to school.
There's only one problem: Dave's well over a year younger than me.
Not a problem, I guess, but interesting all the same.
(note: In composing this I went downstairs to confirm our mutual ages. Dave fed me something spicy he had just whipped up that included, as far as I can tell, black beans, onion, peppers, almonds, kidney beans, Granny Smith apples, corn, and tomato sauce. We ate it over Fritos. Vive le Bachelorhood!)
Monday, January 12, 2009
Elder Dave
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
I was sold until you got to the "and we served it over Fritos" bit. It was sounding gourmet until then. Anything with nuts, Granny Smith apples, and things you would put in a chicken pot pie, mixing them all together--that's like every episode of the Frugal Gourmet or Yan Can Cook. But the Fritos nullifies any kind of Top Chef quality you and Elder had going on. No offense. I'm just calling it like I see it.
To make you feel better, I am also a year younger than you, I'm ahead of you in school, I have longer hair than you, I'm making at least double the money you must be making in a year, but I am also not engaged to a lovely woman. Or man, for that matter. *shoulder pats*
Grover, you need a girlfriend. Wow. Really.
;-)
There was also turkey in it, I ate it four straight meals, and it was delicious.
Post a Comment