Wet Blanket

I want to dispel a developing rumor about me right here and now:

I am NOT a wet blanket roommate.

True, often my general attitude on life is of a wallowing nature. That much I cannot deny. But I am not so envious of a boyfriend throwing his girlfriend a surprise party that I wish to darken the dance because I lack a dapper doppelganger. It really grinds my gears when harmless outbursts convey the opposite idea about my feelings.

You see, just yesterday, one of my roommates planned and pulled all the strings to throw his wonderful girlfriend a surprise party at her apartment. I really was excited for her; I mean, what a momentous moment in a young lass's life when her loving man goes out on a limb for her enjoyment! Anyways, I responded to his final e-mail with a quip along the lines of "I hope you get laid! Fingers crossed!" Longtime readers know that I have this star-crossed hope almost every day; it just usually applies to my own destiny. Unbeknownst to me, the girlfriend's older sister was on the thread, and she saw my exclamation. Now, everyone thinks I am the venerable turd in the punchbowl or fart in the middle of church: Out of place and rude. Now, I am that guy. 

Regretfully,

Tim