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:

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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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