For all those out there who are not independently wealthy, when taking a leap of faith to reach those Van Gogh stars-- roommates are necessary. I got luck with Tiff. Tiff is the phonetic of TF, or Temporary Friend. Tiff has informed me that as soon as my sublet ends (in three months) or I make friends of my own, our friendship is over.
First thing you should know about Tiff, she is sharp. Example:
Tiff (after I walk into the apartment): Wow, you are, uh, really sweaty.
Me: Well.. (still breathing heavy after the damnable stairs) there is a heat wave going on out there.
Tiff: You walked didn't you?
Me: Yes (translation: I walked 2.45 miles in weather that felt like a humid 102).
Tiff: Well, that is your own damn fault. Take the bus.
Second thing you should know about Tiff, the friendship is conditional. Here are the things I did to potentially strain our tenuous relationship:
1. I broke the strove by cleaning it; apparently too much of the cleaning liquid got in the stoves and prevented the gas from igniting. Tiff wanted hotdogs (which are awkward when cooked in the microwave). I was really worried that I had killed the stove. But alas, Three (the final roommate) fixed it with a lighter. Three is a badass.
2. I was getting the rounds of drinks at the bar (Tiff wanted a cranberry Vodka) and the bar ran out of cranberry juice (which lacks a certain foresight on their behalf) and the bar tender held the nozzle of orange juice over her cup and asked "OJ?" I panicked and said yes. Bad Call. Second runner up was pineapple juice. I swore (and will continue to swear) that I will never make the same mistake twice. Tiff, champ that she is, drank it anyways; she looked pained.
3. I swear I am not a bad dancer. But sometimes I get enjoyment out of dancing oddly to make people laugh. Tiff was not amusing. Duly noted.
Third thing, Tiff likes French Fries. Which is good, because so do I.
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