Apr. 15th, 2010

pufferfishkisses: (Default)
Lauren is driving me motherfucking crazy. I know she's a nice girl and all, but she is one of the most passive-aggressive people I have ever met, and I'm having a hard time biting my tongue around her.

She always says things when I'm in the kitchen with her. Like when I'm making my lunch over break. She'll open up the cupboard, slowly, thoughtfully, and then say, "I just don't understand why people stack big plates on top of little plates."

Now, she knows I put the dishes away last time, and she watched me do it. She knows that I stacked some big plates on top of small plates because I was in a hurry to get the job done. So the line isn't innocent -- it's a passive-aggressive sentence that really means, "Why are you such a slob?"

And here's the real kicker -- as she is saying this there is a frypan on the stove with two-day-old encrusted egg in it. There is a coffee grinder that has been sitting in the sink for a solid week, filled with soggy coffee grounds and reeking to hell. There is an entire dining-room table overflowing with paper, books, drawing utensils, a backpack and a jacket. Guess whose things these are? Lauren's.

When she says, "I just don't understand why people stack big plates on top of little plates," I say, "Nhhhn," pretending like I don't know she's needling me.

What I really want to say is, "Yeah? Well, I don't understand how you can leave rotting food lying around for days at a time and then bitch at somebody about the way they arrange plates, you goddamn fucking hypocrite!"

But I am far too agreeable to start a fight. So, instead, I grunt, take my soup, and leave the kitchen.

I resent myself for being far too agreeable to start a fight.


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