Hubuduh What?

god i hate you ryan
2006-11-01 : 1:47 am

1:36 AM. Wednesday, November 1st.

I'm leaving one final comment for a dear friend and then I need as much sleep as I can get until I have to leave for work at 9:24 and actually be really productive and capable. I'm still drunk from tonight's Halloweenie activities, and the headache has already set in. All I want is dark. And sleep. And quiet.

I hear someone ring the buzzer to the apartment. I think, well, they must be expected, so whoever is expecting them will get it. No one gets it. The buzzer rings again. I wait. Nothing. The buzzer rings a third time, and a fourth, and again and again with increasing frequency and urgency. It occurs to me that my roommate, who works until the wee hours at his restaurant job, may have forgotten his keys and needs to be let in.

I get up and walk to the door, the buzzer getting louder and louder, and realize that everyone else is also in their rooms for the night. Whoever is buzzing won't STOP buzzing, and all I can think in my aching head is that I need it to stop as soon as possible, so I don't even have time to find a light switch, so I jab around the wall with my hands until I find the magic button that lets them in.

I open the door and turn on the light, walk to the landing and lean over the rail. I hear, "I'm sorry!"

I say, "What the fuck!" Then I realize it's not my roommate.

"I'm sorry!"

"Who are you?"

"Ryan called us and told us not to come, that he was going to sleep, but we were already on our way! Ahahaha! We got kicked out of Salem! Ahahaha! There was a stabbing! Someone DIED!" It's a guy and a girl, neither of whom I've ever seen. He's dressed in some hipster ironic costume, and she's Lady Marmalade, or some other variation on the ever goddamn present Slut-At-Halloween theme.

"Um, I'll get him."

So I walk down the hall to Ryan's room. Ryan is already on my shitlist, as the plans we've had for tonight for over a month he bailed on at the very last minute. Plus, he's a selfish, self-involved, self-centered motherfucker. Oh yeah, there's that.

I pound on his door and open it, to find it chained. He murmers, sleepily (and quite dramatically) "mmmwhatmmm"

"Your friends are here." I'm pissed and it shows.

"mmmmummblemumble." I hear him get out of bed as he's mumbling so I walk back to my room. Our two guests are standing in the hallway looking incredibly guilty. I decide to let them. It's quarter to 2 am on a Tuesday.

Once inside my room I expect to hear the sound of Ryan's incredibly loud-at-any-time-of-the-day-or-night-regardless-of-who-might-be-sleeping-or-have-to-work-or-take-a-midterm-in-the-morning voice, but instead I hear nothing, then after a few minutes the sound of the door close. It finally occurs to me that Ryan's last mumble was actually a muffled "Tell them I'm sleeping," and that he never got out of his fucking room to talk to his friends, he just got out of his bed to close the door again.

That fucker. So now I'm the rude-ass roommate (well, ruder than I wanted to be, I was okay with a small amount of rude) who just left these people hanging, while Ryan decided it was appropriate to ORDER ME to tell them he was sleeping.

I swear to Christ.

I guess this wouldn't be such a big deal if it wasn't the Ryan Show, All The Time. If I wasn't made to listen to a solid half hour of him talking at me, repeating his jokes for the day and how funny everyone else thought they were, and then when I go to tell him a 30 second story about my day I get completely ignored, not even a polite "mmhmm." I guess it wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't constantly trying to literally con me out of money or turn my friends and I against each other behind our backs. I guess it wouldn't be such a big deal if I had to sit through fashion shows of all the new clothes he buys, and then when I come home with a new haircut he laughs at me and compares me to the most hideous woman we both know while calling me names. I guess then it wouldn't be so bad.

He's one of four kids in his family, by the way. In the middle. Yeah, we can't figure it out either.