Not my used condom, not my problem

My friend called me yesterday to tell me that she had a story for my blog.

“It better be good,” I said. “Because I only put top notch stories on my blog.” Unless someone is getting hollered at by the human projectile sprinkler or locking their keys in the car, in the ignition with the car still running, then it just isn’t up to Puddin’ par. I feel her story passed the Puddin’ taste test, so today I steal her story…

My friend E* (no not the drug) has six male roommates. One of the guys she lives with is this close to me sending his picture to Hot Chicks With Douchebags. His friends have even suggested the only two things in life this guy cares about are pussi and money. Not necessarily in that order. Douche actually has a girlfriend. Well not really. It’s this one girl he hangs out with all the time and they do everything a couple would do together, but I have gotten into plenty of heated debates with him denying her status.

“D* is not my girlfriend,” he will say, until he is blue in the (balls) face.

“Ok, ok she is not your girlfriend,” I reply. “You guys just cook, shop, eat, sex, go on trips, and spend every waking hour together. Makes perfect sense.”

I guess it isn’t entirely his fault either, because his not girlfriend thinks she is going to be the one to "change" his douchebagness. Not going to happen. Men don’t change. The only drastic transition I’ve ever seen in a man was Michael Jackson’s skin color. And I’m not even sure MJ is still a man or if that transition counts.

So back to the story, on Saturday, (when I was at work), they had a party for one of the roommates at a bar (go figure). Douche of course gets drunk and ends up bringing this hot Australian chick home from the bar and has sex with her. The next day at work, he calls my friend E* and asks her for a favor. This douche asks E* to go in his room and get rid of the used condom, because he forgot his not girlfriend is going to stop by.

First of all, if it’s not his girlfriend, what is he so worried about? And second, who asks someone else to deal with their used condom? (My posts are starting to get really gross, aren't they?)

“You didn’t do it, did you?” I asked E*. “Oh sh*t you did.”

“Yeah, I went in there with some chicken tongs,” E* said laughing. “It smelled like a boys locker room in there too.”

*memo* If I ever had to write a list of top ten things I would never do, going into my roommates room to remove the evidence of a used condom would be at the top of the list.