Sticky Date
Years ago I lived in a house with a guy that I’ll refer to as “Jaden”. I did not enjoy living with this person, because he was a spoilt and ineffectual twerp. His habits were interesting to observe which went some way towards making cohabitation temporarily bearable.
Every morning he would singe one piece of toast and then throw it in the bin. This was his breakfast. His sex life consisted of one expired condom which he left on obvious display in the medicine cabinet. One day he replaced it with a selection of new ones. There is no way this was due to him using the expired one.
He was trained as a chef, and his father (who was very wealthy) had recently bought him a restaurant which was being renovated in preparation for the grand opening. He was constantly having loud conversations on the phone with the other chef, his friend “Dane”. These conversations were largely misguided attempts at trying to impress his housemates. He was under the misapprehension that we gave a shit about the restaurant business. Sometimes he’d try out recipes at home and then ring up “Dane”.
“DANE, COME OVER AND TRY MY STICKY DATE! WE SHOULD DEFINATELY DO THE STICKY DATE, IT’S SOOOO GOOD!”
Dane would arrive and try it out and agree that they were about to open the best restaurant in town.
“IT’S GOING TO BE TOO BIG FOR THIS TOWN, PEOPLE WILL BE QUEUING!” Jason would grin maniacally, one buggy eye bulging out of his skinny face, while the other normal sized one studied the opposite wall.
Due to his caloric deprivation he looked extremely emaciated. In particular he had obscenely thin wrists. When he drove his Citroen 2CV car it appeared as if a French mollusc was rolling down the street while digesting a grinning stick-insect.
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