Because being your roommate means never having to apologize for the incredibly stupid and immature shit I do to you, I've compiled this handy list of things I'm not sorry about.
Sorry I'm not more sorry I took a dump in your backpack. But let's face it, you knew exactly why it was in there the moment you unzipped it. (Maybe next time you'll think harder before you drink my orange juice.) Oh, and I'm even less sorry I put that backpack on your pillow for the three days you were gone.
Sorry I'm not more sorry I deleted all the songs from your iTunes library and replaced them with voice messages your mom left you. I'm even less sorry I put those voice messages into playlists. And named those playlists the same titles as your old, actual playlists. That must have been an awkward "Party Mix" for your friends to dance to.
Sorry I'm not more sorry for drawing those balls on your chin while you were sleeping. To be fair, I didn't use permanent marker and you only went to three classes with them nestled there. I'm even less sorry I made one of them noticeably larger than the other.
Sorry I'm not more sorry I ate all of your Pop-Tarts. They were delicious, I was hungry, and you wouldn't have appreciated them the way I did. I'm even less sorry your girlfriend and I used those Pop-Tarts in our bedroom play. Same reasoning.
Sorry I'm not more sorry for waking you up with a fresh pot of hot, delicious coffee. All over your face. So much for my java being "weak," eh buddy? I'm even less sorry I used up the pumpkin-flavored stuff. But shouldn't it at least smell good while it's burning through the top layer of your face?
Sorry I'm not more sorry I kidnapped your parents at gunpoint and coerced your mom into doing some very unnatural things with that life-sized cutout of Gilbert Godfried. I'm even less sorry I had her leave you a voicemail while she was fondling his Gil-bits. I bet it made an excellent addition to your Party Mix, though.
Sorry I'm not more sorry for selling that video I made of your mom motor-boating the ball sack of what appears to be former television and film actor Gilbert Godfried to the fine folks at Boners On the Cheap, Inc. If it's any consolation, it was tastefully shot and I edited out all the swear words. Because I care. However, I really am sorry I couldn't get the actual Gilbert Godfried to participate. I guess he didn't need the exposure as much as I thought.
Finally, dear roommate: I'm sorry I don't feel regret, remorse, or despair over these actions. My therapist says I've chosen a different "social path," or something. I don't know, I wasn't really listening. I was busy devising a way to cram a box full of killer bees into his desk drawer without him knowing.