They served us chicken halves for dinner tonight at work. Literally. It's like they took chickens, cooked them, sliced them in half and that's what we got. In addition to huge tubs of mashed potatoes and beans. So much for the diet tonight, I suppose, since I'm such a sucker for mashed potatoes. I'm completely in food coma right now.

On another food-related note, I've never really understood the saying "drink like a fish." Technically, fish don't drink that much. I'd say we should change it to "drink like a camel," but once they fill up, they're done for a few days. I drink all the time. People here have commented on how quickly I drain my mug of water. So, the reason why you've all tuned in. Emotionally Disturbed Roommate & I had it out last night, eventually. He'd brought over one of his friends who was also a "landlord" (though I wouldn't consider him a landlord at all -- he's sharing a room in an apartment that he's renting from a landlord) in order to try to double-team me, apparently. He went through half a dozen irrelevant excuses and reasonings why he is justified in holding my deposit that I'm due (including "well, I've been good about putting the mail out for you when it comes" -- which it's true, he has, even stacking it in order of size and neatly placed in the corner of the dining room table -- and "I've never had to deal with this, I grew up a Jewish boy," to which my response was "So? I did too," and inwardly I was wondering what the hell this had to do with anything, since if anything, I should be able to claim the background trophy since I grew up in East Nowhere and he grew up in a major metropolitan area and had been living in the apartment and renting out the spare room for over 2 years so he should be better versed in this situation than me by far). He told me that he thought I was scolding him -- he used the exact words "I felt like I was a child being told to go to his room" -- when I kept telling him over the phone that I didn't have time to talk to him and I'd talk to him when I got home that night, though he just didn't seem to get the fact that my work really does have priority over him and I really didn't have the time to deal with his insanity when he called. At this point, I was starting very much to feel like a parent, and even though the guy's 32, I tend to think he's got the maturity and worldliness of a 7 year old.

So, in the end, because he kept asking when he was getting his keys back -- to which I responded "well, when am I getting my deposit back?" since he just didn't seem to get it -- we finally worked it out that he will pay me in cash on Saturday morning when I move out and I will hand him the keys on my way out. There. That should satisfy all of your drama cravings, since I've been getting requests for more episodes of "The Days of Our Insane Emotionally Disturbed Roommates." However, be forewarned that barring some unnatural circumstances, this series will be airing its finale this weekend. No amount of letter-writing, petition-signing, or pleading over e-mail or IM or phone will bring it back. The network executives are pulling the plug.