It's a Tuesday night. I am watching the first black President of the United States talk on TV. I glance over past my half of the room for a split second. I see it in my peripheral vision but I am not surprised. My roommate is eating magical mushrooms with her boyfriend out of a plastic baggy. She's gagging as she tries to swallow them. She has told me twice before that they taste like shit. She does it in an almost maternal way: "Remember, If you're gonna eat mushrooms don't do them by yourself. They taste disgusting. My best friend Ilsa breaks them up and puts them in a sandwich to cover up the taste." Lovely. She is breaking them up between her fingers so the tiny pieces will go down her throat easier. So I investigate: They're off-white with fungus growing on each of them. She scored them from some girl who lives down the hall of our apartment. Whatever. I don't care. Im no prude but seriously... It's Tuesday and it's midnight. If you're going to do hallucinogens before bed, at least offer me some. You're a junkie, but thats no excuse for a bad sense of etiquette.

She's been smoking ganga more productively then ever, on account of the gorgeous weather we've been blessed with. It's November. We live in Canada. It shouldn't be eighteen degrees outside. It's days like these that make me feel sorry for polar bears that drown at sea. If only the polar ice caps were intact and not melting. But regardless its beautiful outside. It's warm even at night. She's a pot-head. But I don't mind because I am too. It's days like these where I skip my classes to smoke in the park behind my building. We are the toxic twins of our residency and everybody knows it. She is somebody I wouldn't automatically be friends with had it not been for marijuana. It brings people together- what can I say?

My roommate and her boyfriend duck outside for awhile after they've finished there nutritious feast of under the counter narcotics. That beats a bedtime snack of milk and cookies by a landslide. I get into my bed and bury myself beneath the covers. They stumble back in a half hour later tripping balls. My roommate stares into the mirror like she has never seen her own reflection before. We dreaded her hair about a month ago on our bedroom floor, twisting and knotting for hours. " Oh my God..." she gasps. "My hair is eating me." she says. Lions, and tigers, and bears... Oh my! Lord give me patience, I don't know if I'm capable of dealing with her shenanigans tonight. He grabs her and leads her toward the bed setting her down, where they giggle until they fall asleep, snorting at they laugh. They are cute in a dysfunctional way, like Homer and Marge Simpson or Bonnie and Clyde. I sandwich my head between two pillows to drown out the noise. I have a class at eight-thirty AM. I probably won't be attending it again on account of sleepless nights like these.