The Thought Process of a Shitty Roommate

I should leave these two scraps of toilet paper left because I don’t want to waste it, and the toilet paper is all the way in the cabinet.


I will just pick this pile of three-day-old chicken wing bones up later.


Ever since Big John got out of the clink, we’ve been able to kick it over here all the time.


My roommates are chill, they won’t mind if I leave my bong on the kitchen table.


I’m pretty sure they won’t notice if I have a few beers.


Maybe if I don’t mention it, I won’t have to take the trash out.


I want everyone to hear how freaky I can get in the sheets and be jealous.


It’s Tuesday, let’s rage!


Why is she such a bitch? I di’int do nuthin.


I love singing all the time; especially that one rap lyric that’s always on the radio.


Slamming the door means that no one should fuck with me.


When I get home I’m tired so I just put my shit down wherever.


Is that chick noticing him more than me? Better bring up that super embarrassing moment he had after eating too much Indian food last month.


I like to leave the TV on, so it’s not quiet when no one’s home.


Why do they seem pissed at me, doing my hair and setting my fake tan takes 2 hours–they need to get over it.


If anyone touches my Doritos, there will be hell to pay.


Hey can I catch a ride with you guys again, I want to drink? Can Sergio come too?

Gonna shave in the living room today.


I love having my girlfriend stay over; she said she’ll start looking for a job next week.


You can really hear the bass drop with this sick sub-woofer I got, it’s so powerful!


Damn, I swear I burn everything I make.


I can sell shit so I won’t have to get a job.


I’ll be nice and leave a half-inch of orange juice in the carton for everyone, and then it doesn’t look like I drank it all.


I LOVE HEROIN.