I was watching Saturday Night Live tonight with my roommate. The Rock was hosting. I have a friend who is obsessed with him, so this amused me. Then I noticed, with increasing apprehension, that my roommate seemed very interested in every move the wrestler made and kept making comments about how much she loved him. I very much hoped that she just found him attractive and didn't actually fancy wrestling.
I took a deep breath, clenched my teeth...and asked the question I really didn't care to know the answer to..."Do you like wrestling?"
"Oh, yeah...I love it," came the horrifying response. I felt the walls around me shifting just slightly...as if letting me know that INDEED, I was surrounded in every direction by fans of the soap opera for males known as WWF.
What did I do to deserve such a horrible fate? Was throwing worms at that fat girl in fourth grade evil enough to demand such a cruel, sadistic punishment as was being delivered before my tortured eyes? Was it not enough that I lived with someone who got up early? But this final fronteer...the sanctity of my apartment was being crushed as I desperately clung to what little sanity there was left. I don't know if I can ever feel safe again.