Raw Foodists and the Wonderful World of Roommates

my roommate is a raw foodie. that means he only eats uncooked fruits and veggies. he told me the story of when his dad beat him with a cucumber and stuck a carrot up his ass as a child. now he's all grown up and sticks carrots in a juicer, among other colorful organic things. he uses alot of water (HOT water) and does strange things in the shower, like something called "dry brushing" which takes a good 45 minutes, in a hurry. i've heard of dry humping, but i've never seen the brushing part. i don't ask any questions. although i never attempted the art of cooking, i have mastered the art of pushing buttons on my microwave and have a freezer full of delicious, frozen entrees, waiting to be nuked and inhaled by myself or my growing child. but raw foodies are different. they buy shit in bulk, and stuff their fruits and veggies into the fridge like WWIII is coming. i no longer have room for South Beach Diet boxes, containers of processed meat, white wine, or pudding cups. my raw roomie has a fucking meat cleaver he uses to chop coconuts with at 6 o'clock in the morning, slamming the dull blade over and over again into the thick shell of his nut. this cracking of the nut results in a blended beveridge of coconut milk and blueberries and some other fruity shit i can't recognize. he also arrived with a punching bag on a stand big enough to smother Anna Nicole in her large days. the fucking thing was placed outside and takes up half my deck!
this story isn't about the negative aspects of raw foodie roomies. it's about reclaiming my sorry life as a single, junk food eating whore and my KITCHEN for Christ's sake!! my microwave has been replaced by a food DEHYDRATOR that drones on for 3 days to make some stinky onion bread with flax seeds and shit. oh, George Foreman! take me AWAYYYYYYYYY........
and let me drink the sweet grease from your plastic grease catcher. until then, i'll be swimming in peels and pulp. and going to wal-mart in search of a dry brush.