Note: the following are written in different voices and genders, but they are all apologies to an upset roommate.
I’m sorry I drank your vanilla soy milk straight from the carton while munching on Cocoa Puffs because I was “too lazy” to wash a bowl and spoon and even though the carton was “clearly labeled” with your name.
I’m sorry I used the pouty photos of yourself that you took “ironically” for use in a “deconstruction of femininity” project for your “Body, Image and the Male Gaze” class and then posted them on a MySpace page and then hacked into your Gmail account and invited all your contacts to friend you.
I’m sorry that I gave ammunition to GoonSwarm for a bear raid against you, which led to you losing 1.5 trillion ISK.
I’m sorry I used one of your knitting needles to poke holes in a foil-wrapped potato, and to test if the brownies were done, and as an ice pick, and to rescue my earring from under the fridge, and to do an emergency tracheotomy on your cat.
I’m sorry I tore all the pages out of your Moleskine to make flash cards for the Spanish for Lovers class I’m taking at the Learning Annex.
I’m sorry that I shaved your mohair sweater and use the clippings to create a family of Wookie finger puppets. In my defense, the Youtube clip of them re-enacting the Community episode re-enacting “My Dinner with Andre” already has 373 views.
I’m sorry I used your cellphone to send flirtatious text messages to your therapist. I’m sure it was “like, the most awkward session ever.” I’m happy to hear that he took you to a really nice restaurant, though.
I’m sorry that I used your school e-mail account to respond to 160 missed connections items posted on Craigslist
I’m sorry that I used your All-Clad Slow Cooker to render the road kill I found. I’d be happy to give you the raccoon skeleton I assembled. Oh and, BTW, your glue gun is out of sticks.
I’m sorry that my girlfriend and I had “loud incessant monkey sex” the night before you took the GRE.
I’m sorry that I ratted you out to the RIAA and that the only illegally downloaded music on your laptop was C+C Music Factory’s “Gonna Make You Sweat” album and that I leaked the copyright infringement notice to p2pnews and then paid some 17 year old kid in New Jersey to get it on to reddit’s front page.
I’m sorry I blotted my boyfriend’s face with your Burberry scarf when I accidently tore one of his piercings out, but it was the closest thing and he was seriously bleeding. A lot. I’d let you borrow my pink knit one with the skull and crossbones, but it smells kind of funky and I know you have a sensitive sense of smell. Thus the three bottles of Febreze in our bathroom.
I’m sorry that I ran your phone charger through the wash even though I knew your phone was low on battery power and had indeed heard you announce at dinner that you were going call your mom later (for the 23rd time this week).
I’m sorry that I dumped your “super expensive” tub of Greek yogurt down the sink. In my defense, how was I supposed to know that the sour smell and clotted look are both intentional? Yoplait only looks and smells like that when it’s gone bad.
I’m sorry that I Rickrolled your mom (and yes, she and I do e-mail, and I’m sorry if that makes you “very uncomfortable” but maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal if you called her more often) and that that awakened a latent crush that she had been carrying three decades and that she spent the money for the Italian vacation you two were going to take this summer on a suitcase full of lingerie and camera equipment and a plane ticket to England which eventually led to a restraining order and unflattering photos in the London tabloids.