Dear You, yes you.

Dear You,
And I mean you, the one who has been calling me at 6 am, 10 am, and so on so forth.
Can you talk?
Damnit! I had started ingnoring your "private" and "unknown" calls..but, you figured out a new way at trickery. You leave me VOICE MAILS. 5 minutes of someone forgetting to hang up the phone. I vaugely hear things in the background, and yes, you have piqued my curiosity.
You must know my secret weakness for mystery. Who are you? I must know.

In other news, my room mate is infatuated with a new man. Ah, I adore the cyclical nature of my room mate...er...lets call her: Monk
No, its not a tribute to her favorite show. Its just her. Well, Monk is actually my second room mate, my first one was someone else. Well, I adore Monk, Monk and I get along like...peanut butter and jelly. We're amazing together. Monk is approachable, beautiful, and fun. If my parents weren't so afraid to let me live off campus, I would live with her next year.
So, Monk. She's like..the perfect room mate.
Friends, but not best. She has her own set of friends, and I have my own. But, we can always do something together if either of us is irratated with friends.
She doesn't mind if my wacky friends come over, and I adore her friends, so it all works out.
In fact, her best friend came to visit this past weekend, and I never had so much fun just sitting in my room. We ended up playing soccer in my room with my beach ball
(we werent in the best of senses)
And, she rocks out at giving me privacy!

So, there it is, my ode to my room mate.