He needs killin'.

I'm trying really hard not to be a bitch. But it's getting increasingly more difficult.

I love my furniture. Earlier this year I procured a lovely sofa, love seat and all the trimmings for our home. It's the nicest furniture I've ever owned. (See above - not a great photo, but you get the idea. It wasn't cheap.). I mean really, it's just nice! I love it more than some humans and most animals I know.

I woke up very early this morning to take The Teenager to work, as she had to be there at 6 AM. On my way into the kitchen, I notice that one of roomie's buddies is sleeping on my very nice, very off-limits couch. (Yes, same roomie who let's his chick pollute the house.)

Dammit! I'm very particular about this furniture. It's in great condition, and I want it to stay that way. And I don't need some drunk-ass, Axe Body Spray wearing-doofus mucking it all up. Don't I get a say in this? If someone were to ASK me, maybe I wouldn't be so pissed off. But no, he just does whatever the fuck he wants to do without consulting anyone. There's a whole other living area, with a much bigger couch that would have been fine for him to sleep on.

God. Damn. It.

He needs Killin'. No consideration. A feel a mutiny coming on.
I'll put the stuff in storage if I have to.

Fucker.