The More I See of You the Less I Want To

Honestly, I'm not really sure why I'm like this. Maybe my heart is really a Sub-Zero. Maybe it's just that when I don't see much of someone, I can fill all the gaps in knowlege and memory with ideals. For some reason my roommates have not been too affected though, maybe because they are in a Kantian category for family, a necessary evil, rather than the category for friends, best enjoyed in small doses. But I don't like spending too much uninterrupted time with family, either, so maybe I have a separate roommate category that allows me to tolerate the idiosyncrasies.
Last night Kramer said that if a guy realized one of his roommates were weird, he would just ignore him. I guess the difference in our situation is that we are all incredibly weird, so avoidance, citing moral superiority, is not really an option. We all have such varied types of weirdness: The Disney-obsessed One, The Artiste One, The Belching One, The Screaming One, The Melancholy One, and myself, The Hyper-verbal One.
To prove my weirdness, I will mention that the fascinating book I am currently reading is The Bedford Glossary of Critical and Literary Terms. It is full of so many ideas and so many books I need to read; I especially enjoyed the discussion on bathos. The Disney-obsessed One found it amusing that I'm reading a glossary for fun, but yesterday afternoon she had a Christina-Aguilera-type version of "Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Da" on repeat, so I'm not sure she can make any value judgements.