So you're sitting in your room in your apartment in Williamsburg, working on your collage series, Sad Girls With Chicken Arms, and listening to Matt and Kim on your iPod, and that "Yea Yeah" song comes on and you turn it up because you just love that song — it's so … repetitive. But of course, right away your annoying roommate starts pounding on your door. "Can you turn that down?" he says. "I'm updating my Facebook profile and I really need to concentrate." You ignore him. God, you hate your roommate. He always leaves his tube socks everywhere, he uses your hair product, and he totally ate the last piece of soy cheese and didn't replace it … you just hate him. You hate him so much you want to stab him! Stab him with the self-same Xacto knife you were just using to make your beautiful collage before he interrupted you, causing you to slice into the collarbone of a girl in a picture you printed off Cobrasnake! You can fuck with me, dude, but not with my art! Arwrrrrwgggghh!

Goddamm it! When you get back from jail, your Treo, IBM ThinkPad laptop, and your Compaq laptop are missing. God, you hate your roommate…

With Roomies Like These, Who Needs Enemies [Brooklyn Paper]