Baby, you're a Rich man

The NBA is finishing up it's season and all that's left is baseball. I like baseball in doses, but the people in this town are rabid for the game, and it gives me a headache. Which is another reason why I plan on staying in my room for the entire summer and early fall with my tv unplugged. In other words, the way I usually live.
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Rich, our new roommate should be moving in this weekend. I hope, oh how I hope, that he'll be a good fit. This will be the first time in my life that I'll be living with a complete stranger. Sounds sexy! But really, I think it will be fine; if my gut instinct is spot on, then there's nothing to worry about. What's the worst thing that could happen?

Let's say one day I come home and he's dissecting a kitten on the couch with his teeth and blood is staining the upholstery. Now, I'd be peeved about the blood on the couch, because Spira and I had just cleaned it, but the rest I could handle. I'd wait for him to finish up with the kitty and then I'd speak to him quietly about my feelings and he'd apologize for being insensitive about the couch. Not so bad. Problem solved.

Or, if I'm in my room answering one of my many emails (98% of them from the ladies, you can be sure) and Rich kicks my door in and strikes me with a large, dead fish---probably cod--- while wearing a pair of filthy diapers on his head and nothing else. And let's say the attack was completely unprovoked. How would I handle it? Well, I'd defend myself and most likely he'd end up in the hospital with serious injuries, but once he got out of his coma, I'd workshop the incident with him and resolve the matter. Again, problem solved.

There's a fair chance the above scenarios won't come to pass, and even if they do, I've exhibited how skillfully I'd handle them. So bring it on, Rich---there's nothing you can do to bring me down. Asshole.