In recent news, yet another momentous achievement by your roommate has served to highlight your own fundamental inadequacy as a human being. While you were playing Fork Knife for the seventh consecutive hour this past Tuesday, recent reports have indicated that your cotenant was learning to speak Bulgarian. “I’m almost fluent at this point,” your roommate stated yesterday. “I just need to get down those pesky auxiliary past-subjunctive complementary participles.”

While your parents were begging the ancient goddess Minerva in all of her glorious forms to tell them where they went wrong, your cohabitator was supposedly trying to convince you to go to the gym, “or, as they say in Bulgaria, ‘at least take a shower’.” Your saint of a roomie even took out the trash, providing a full week of meals to a pack of starving and grateful racoons. “What a swell guy,” said Bandito Stripes, the patriarch of the Racoons clan. “Your roommate is really a much more compassionate and interesting human than you could ever dream of being. And he’s devilishly handsome and sexy, at least by racoon standards—good for him!”

Your roommate, who has run not one but seven and one-third marathons—the eighth was interrupted when he had to stop to help fifteen old ladies cross the street—and plays the piccolo with exquisite skill, explained his motivation for becoming a polyglot. “It wasn’t just for practical reasons,” reported the smug bastard. “If that was my goal, I would have learned Mandarin, or maybe Russian, depending on which I determine with my award-winning algorithm is more likely to conquer the U.S. by 2036. No, it was really just for the love of learning itself.” He also revealed that during your unplanned four-hour nap yesterday, he mastered several sub-dialects for no fucking reason at all. “I’m just really very extremely smart and superbly accomplished,” he explained, in silky smooth Bulgarian, with a modest smile. “Not much else to it.”

At press time, your good ol’ room pal was helping a Bulgarian research center cure cancer while you ate cold mozzarella sticks from TAP, sobbing incoherently about your utter failure of a life. In English.

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