Signed in Blood.

The husband and I took our peacock box of gift cards along with us on the honeymoon. Lacy-Hacy had suggested that it might be a good idea. Not only to prevent them from being misplaced/stolen but also to provide us extra cash for our trip.

It was an excellent suggestion, but turns out, she had multiple motives.

Because as I slowly opened each card one by one, reading the cheesy marriage poems and cliche wedding wishes, I came across a particular envelope with handwriting that looked oh-so very familiar... Upon opening the card, I found this message: "'Well, you did it. You WON! (pact) Go ahead, bask in it... I feel all warm & fuzzy inside. :)"

I couldn't believe my eyes!

After two months of shameless teasing, claiming that she had not lived up to her end of the deal, my BFF had actually paid out.

It literally was a laugh out loud moment.

I immediately text her in my excitement. (I know, I know. Honeymoon+texting best friends='no-no'. But I couldn't resist.) "Bahahaha!! You sneaky bandit.. :D I can't believe you actually paid up on our pact! Hehehe.. But I guess it was blood money after all. :P"

You see, my roomie and I (at the time) had decided one evening, during a fit of boredom, to create an agreement of sorts regarding who would get hitched first.

She claimed that I would obviously be the first victim while I knowingly knew that she would be scooped up in no time. Both being unattached presently and seriously doubting that that would change anytime soon, we drafted a document and signed at the bottom.

At first she insisted we sign our entire name in our actual blood, but considering that a new level of creepy and secretly wishing to inflict as little pain as possible, I suggested that a small drop would do. It was a good thing too, because apparently we are both sissies. Just one prick hurt like the dickens!

(Believe me. No one is more aware of my smart phone's bad picture quality than I am.)

It reads: "This pact set forth on this -the 11^th of September 200 & 11-amongst the foxilicious BABES Lacy Cornaby & Corin Haymore ensures that whosoever shall enter into the holy bonds of matrimony & sweet, sweet BABY MAKIN' TIME!! Shall immediately, without question, fork up the cold hard cash amount of $107.00. "

Why a $107.00?..

Oh, I dunno. Because $777.00 was too much and both of us share 7 as our favorite number. Do we need a better reason?

Little did we know that a month later we would both be in serious relationships and ten months later, married. It's crazy how time flies. One minute, you're wagering a small fortune (comparatively) in blood and the next you and your bestie are married within two weeks of each other.

And even though we don't live together any more and she's moved a county away, it's not going to change things one bit. Because people like us don't forget that easily.

We don't forget our debts and we certainly don't forget our friendships.

And you can bet on that.

Legality Shmegality.

Pity me.
I spent an entire day last week at my desk, drafting and finalizing the main features of a newly concocted roommate agreement. Its tenets and facets are more conclusive than I ever dreamed.

Yes. I just used the words 'tenets' and 'facets'.
Do I sound very official-ish?

Because that's what I'm goin' for.

After all. This is an extremely serious matter.
The fate of two sisters, one Canadian and a Texan rests in the balance.

Because ya'll should know how important we are, eh.

I created this contract of sorts based upon direct inspiration given by the one and only Sheldon Cooper from one of the world's greatest television shows ever: The Big Bang Theory.



Sometimes it scares me how similar we are...

But let me explain.
For the past three years, I have put up with a whole lot of crap from various roommates.

Don't get me wrong, I've also had a lot of fun with the two Canadians, two Norwegians, one Brazilian and three Americans I've been grouped with but heavens-to-Betsy, can we not all be grown-ups?

How hard can it be to throw away that empty Ramen Noodle package?
To actually take out the trash just once in your life?
Do we not know what a dumpster looks like?
Is it really that difficult to sweep the kitchen floor every so often?
Let alone dream of mopping?

Realize, these were all internal musings. Not once did I lash out upon coming home to a trashed apartment, cleaning it up without a word and then being greeted with a "Thanks for cleaning up, hun. You are just too sweet."

Well ya know what Bucko!?!
If you were really grateful for my services you would've cleaned up after yourself the next time just to save me the trouble.

or the NEXT time.
or the NEXT TIME.

So it's no surprise that, during my final year of college, I must insist upon some house rules to be followed religiously upon threat of death.

And therefore, without further ado, I present the goods.
Do not be alarmed at my amazing skill and technical jargon.

Roommate Agreement

Are you impressed at my handy work?
I slaved all day over a hot keyboard to bring it to you.

Except it was actually only an hour or so and I sit directly over a cooling vent.

Okay, okay.
I suppose it wasn't too painful.

My suffering may have also been lessened due to the Reese's Cheesecake I brought into the office as payment for services provided and aforementioned. *See 'Sofa', So Good.*

My debt has been paid.

I have it on good authority that this was the best cheesecake ever made/eaten since 1993.

"You remember a cheesecake you had in 1993 that was better?", I quizically asked the maintenance worker who stumbled upon a free sample serendipitiously.

"No, it's not that." he responded quickly, "I mean that 1993 is as far back as I can remember."

"Oh." I smiled pleasantly, "Then I'll take that as a compliment."