My dearest Tab and Dim,

We've been room mates for, what? Two months now? And I don't think I can recall a single time where I've been mean or rude to you (despite your dubious choices in both fashion and men). Apparently, you have decided to repay the favour by EATING ME OUT OF HOUSE AND HOME.

Now girls, I don't mind sharing my food once in a while. That's really not the issue. The issue is that not once have you bothered to ask if you could help yourself to my milk, cereal, bread, salsa... and the list goes on. For god's sake, you even ate all of my pizza the other week! Were you born in a barn? Is nothing sacred to you!?!

We don't live on a combined budget here, girls. If you pitched in some cash whenever I went out to buy groceries, it would be all right, but you don't. And I don't eat your food. So, I really don't see what gives you the impression that you have the right to take my bananas or my apple cinnamon instant oatmeal.

You didn't get the hint when Dee and I labelled all of our food. I mistakenly believed that something had sunken into your thick skulls. Apparently not, for I was horrified to discover that someone had eaten all of my salsa sometime in the night. How am I supposed to eat my unsalted, white tortilla chips now, you horrible cunts?

Now, not only have you pissed me off by eating my food, but you've compouned that offence by lying to me about it. You're NOT eating my food? *sneer* I suppose we must have hyper-intelligent mice in the house, then. Mice that can open jars, and untwist the caps on my milk, and throw away wrappings from my granola bars when they're done eating them, all without leaving a trace of mouse-like evidence behind. That's quite remarkable of them. I should call the university; get a team of scientists in here straight away so that they can capture these genius mice and study them. I'm sure they'll discover a new breed of mouse, smarter than humans, and bent on trying to take over the world. If that's the case, then I apologize to you both profusely.

And just as a side note; if either of you girls wake me up at three in the morning to let you in the house because you're too drunk to remember your keys AGAIN, I will not hesitate to CUT YOUR SORRY ASSES. It's called an 8 am class, bitches. Unlike you, some of us go to ours.

Appreciated,

Miss Black

Dearest 50megs.com and Geoshitties,

Fuck you. No, FUCK YOU. You and your "remote linking not allowed" policies can go suck rancid monkey cocks. Motherfucking fuck fuckers. They're my OWN pictures! *cries* I don't want to pay for a gold membership so that I can upload pictures.

Fuck off and die,

Miss Black

Holy god, I haven't updated in a while. Been a little busy, and I wish I could say it was with something resembling a life, but I've been playing a lot on livejournal lately, and the Harem over at TWoP's Sark thread have decided to come up with it's own fantabulous Sark/David Anders website. Obviously, I had to be a part of it, because I'm an obsessive GEEK.

Miss Black

Listening to: "Erase/Rewind" by the Cardigans.

Reading: "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" by C.S. Lewis. According to Laney, it is a crime against nature that I haven't read it until now, so she gave me her copy to read.

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Miss Black also contributes to a David Anders/Sark site under the name Chaton Espion. Feel free to visit her there if you'd like to witness the terrifying depths of obsession.