Roommate O’Clock

Let me just talk about my roommates for a second, because they are literal saints.

They are so saintly that I decided I should draw icons of them, Byzantine style, so you all can fully appreciate their sainthood. These dudes:


Cid is the saint of gluttony/pigging the eff out. He totes carried my mattress up the stairs.


Christian, Cid’s boyfriend, is the saint of a close shave + hard liquor. He carried my other mattress that I accidentally stole from IKEA up the stairs, and also taught me how to play Ascension.


Mike is the patron saint of busted ACLs everywhere. He is in the process of hooking me up with all of his hot male friends.


Alex, Mike’s girlfriend who does not technically live with us but you know how it is, is the spicy saint of the salsa. She took me out to a club where I nearly let some dreadlocked dude make out with me on the dance floor but I stepped back from the ledge just in time. Thanks gurl.


Oakley, the doggy saint of tug toys. I got to dogsit her and people are hella nice to you when you have a dog. Strangers in the street will just start conversations with you, which in Boston is basically a miracle.


And the cat, patron saint of the nameless. Though it does have a name now (Colonel Mustard), it was just The Cat for like a year.

I really, REALLY LIKE MY ROOMMATES. Start praying to them and saying rosaries to them and stuff. Kthxbai.


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