The Roast Of My Roomate

I’m petty. Inexplicably, incurably, impossibly petty. And I have a website. Which is why I’m using this public platform to roast my roommate who cracked a handful of short, harmless “You so trashy!” jokes in my direction. Because you know what they say; “Sticks and stones may break my bones but I will push the nuclear button with zero regard to measured responses.”

In case you’re wondering, I’m also delivering these in-person. Without warning. Surrounded by friends. Under the rouse of having a dude’s game night. Accompanied by the music provided.

Play on loop for full effect.

You’re so trashy, you were awarded a trophy for waste management when you moved from the fridge to the chair.

“Wasting Disease” wasn’t invented to describe tuberculosis. It was invented after your trash-ass walked past a hospital.

You know why Oscar the Grouch was let out of the trash can after all these years? The writers of Sesame Street saw you and felt bad–not for you, but because they had wronged an inanimate puppet.

If you look up “Garbage Receptacle” online, you know what you’ll find? A silver Mitsubishi Eclipse with a kill-count decal on the side.

If you try to sign up as an organ donor they will, unfortunately, be forced to reject you. You can’t recycle pure garbage.

A man came to Confucius and asked the wise sage; “Why has my life become garbage?” To which the sage asked; “Do you work at (redacted)?

To join a monastery one must give up all Earthly possessions and achieve nothingness. If Zach joins a monastery they must give him everything…to catch him up to nothing.

God disproportionately punishes trailer trash. That’s why when Zach’s on the phone all you hear is *whoooosh*.

Rednecks kick discarded cans down the road to kill time. Because that’s what you do with trash. You kick it while it’s down. *meaningful glare*

Do you know why Zach doesn’t swim in the ocean? Because Trash Island in the Pacific doesn’t get WiFi.

You know what happens when peasants live in trash too long? They get fleas… *meaningful glare*

For weeks an Indonesian orphan child could be seen riding around on Zach. When asked why by a translator, he said the Trash Mountain he lived on in Jakarta simply couldn’t compare.

What will it be classified when Zach is lovingly buried in the local cemetery? Landfill.

For decades local trash collectors have been doing their job with quiet dignity. One week after Zach moved in they quit– citing unsanitary work conditions that begin, and end, at our driveway.

The reason I confine the Roomba to my room? I don’t want to be charged with manslaughter when it does its job in the living room.

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