Pajiba

I had a roommate that greeted me at the top of the stairs upon my return from work, fully naked, asking if I wanted to "hang out" with he and his girlfriend. I left. The same roommate put in a homemade porn DVD in the living room on our first night sharing accomodations. There was also a girl that was awaiting a court date for assaulting a police officer. Same place. There were four bedrooms in this joint, and eight people living there, though I wasn't advised of this before moving in (summer rental). It was above a late-night food joint frequented by drunks and idiots, and they didn't have a bathroom on site. As such, the owners would allow their customers to come upstairs and use OUR washroom. There's nothing like having a parade of drunken strangers wandering through your home to create a sense of security.

That was basically the worst living situation ever, and I've blocked most of it from my memory.

Damnit, Dustin...stop setting the bar so high!

I started college when I was sixteen (yes, I was that overachiever). I moved into the dorms my second semester, and because there was no room in the freshman dorms, I ended up sharing a dorm room with a 400 lb mustached senior girl and her 160lb inbred fiancee, who would slap my butt in front her and comment on how hot my legs were. Since I was a academically stellar but socially inept 16 year old girl away from home for the first time, it took me a while to get up the courage to tell her fiance to go fuck himself. But I finally got up the nerve, and my living situation improved significantly afterward -- they moved into a house together and I had the room to myself for the last two months of school. Good times.

In college, I made it very clear I didn't want a roommate. When I arrived at school, there were two beds in the dorm room and one of them had a duffel bag on it. I wasn't having it. Twenty minutes and a heated, swear-laden argument later, I had an oversized handicapped room to myself. I never even met the person they tried sticking me with. It's not that I'm antisocial, I just don't have the time or patience to dick around with douchbags. That and I wouldn't have had any spare room for my urine/feces samples...

Well, yeah I think you started out with the win there, Dustin. All I have is a roommate with two of the most crotchety and unpleasant cats in the world, who proceeded to use every square inch of the carpet in the apartment as their litter box. They either shat or pissed (and often both) every single day, to the point of where the place almost smelled sweet with ammonia. They liked to pee up under the baseboards so that even when we tried to steam clean the carpets, the smell would stick around. I tried leaving the door open so they would run out, but they were just as fat and lazy as they were unpleasant, so that never worked either. I ended up staying with my boyfriend for the last 8 months of our lease because the smell was too unbearable. I still regret that I didn't just tie their tails together and throw em over a clothesline and lets them kill each other. Little fuckers.

But don't worry, I'm not bitter.

I moved in with a couple of friends this summer. They were away in Europe and I moved in when they got back. Unbeknownst to us however, the third roommate moved some guy he'd known for two weeks in to the house the same day we got back.
This guy never bathed, chain-smoked in the house, had his white-trash parties three or four nights a week, played video games until six am, never cleaned anything, fucked his girlfriend while listening to Slayer and then afterwards yelled at her, probably while beating her. Also, his nine year old daughter live with us for a while.
We finally kicked him out a few weeks ago.

1. Sophomore year dorm, my roomie was a nice little midwestern Christian girl. Her side of the room was decorated with Jesus posters, ceramic angels, and a teddy-bear collage she made herself. And we lived on the first floor and she would change with the curtains open. Not a bad person, but it was really awkward. (I countered her decor with my David Bowie Shrine and crimethinc posters)
2. Junior year, 3 bedroom, had 1 roomie, got set up with the 3rd. She didn't think she should have to pay for her share of heating, because she really lived with her boyfriend and I kept the heat too high, never mind that her habit of leaving the front door wide open in winter was the reason for our ridiculous heating bills. Also, she was kind of a crazy bitch.
3. Senior year - the other, nicer roommate, who I continued to live with for a second year, went through this weird thing where she morphed into psychoslut. Stopped cleaning up after herself, her cat peed everywhere (my cat got the blame, until I actually saw her cat pissing on the carpet. And I was the only one who ever tried to clean it.), and then she started cheating on her really sweet boyfriend with a coworker. Very loudly, sometimes in the living room. Which made her "I'm vegan so I'm morally superior" spiel extra annoying.

I've was pretty fortunate with roommates in college. Probably because I was (occasionally) the horror story. I had more than a few instances of [drink heavily -> black out -> do stupid things and/or sleepwalk while doing stupid things].

Sophomore year, one night while my then-girlfriend was visiting, I exited my bedroom ass-naked and: (1) almost walked straight into my extremely homophobic apartment-mate, who was not pleased, then (2) stood in another roommate's bedroom door and prepared to pee. Thankfully, I was directed (read: pushed forcefully to the bathroom in time.

Junior year, I drank an entire bottle of pre-mixed long island iced tea in the span of about an hour, maybe two. Hours later, I went home and attempted to cook mac & cheese with no water in the pot, no butter and no milk. I then tried to open a "drawer" that was actually just a decorative piece of wood. I was so convinced that it was a drawer that I proved to my housemate by tearing it off.

Fourth year, I drank heavily at campus bar one evening. I returned home and went to bed. This was in a one-bedroom apartment that I shared with a good friend. Not long after passing out, I woke up and used the bathroom. By "bathroom," I mean "roommate's bed with him in it." Thankfully, his bed was pretty high off the ground and I mostly hit some dirty clothes and his sheets; I, did, however, mist his leg. He was about a second from clocking me in the face when he realized that he was about to hit a drunken, sleeping, semi-retarded fat man who had no awareness of what he was doing, and instead threw me back onto my bed and left my presence for the next 18 or so hours. Some prompt laundry-doing and a six-pack of Killian's patched that one up quickly enough.

In conclusion: my God, I was a retard. At least I didn't smell bad or fuck anyone else's girlfriend. And aside from these few such stories, I suffered most of my own consequences.

Poster's Note: These tales of horror do not, in any way, reflect the current incarnation of Sean, who is a responsible, hard-working, fit member of society, and who drinks only quality alcohol on occasion and in moderation.

Ooh, you guys have had some rotten luck. (I'm with Shadows--you can't just leave us hanging with a story nobody can possibly top, Dustin!)

Well, it's not exactly a horror story, but my first year college roomie was an awesome gal. At one point , she decided to stop washing her (thankfully short) hair, though, because her hippie friends told her that after a brief dirty phase, the natural oils would take over and it'd look as good as if it were clean. I think that only lasted a few weeks, though.

Years later, I myself went 5 weeks without washing my (rather long) hair. It was out of necessity--I was living on an island with no running water. Wasn't as bad as you'd think, but those hippies were dead wrong: unwashed hair does not look, or feel, nearly as nice as clean hair.

Then there was the time she sadly asked my now-husband if she could borrow his pliers (he was always a handy guy), because her belly-button piercing had become infected. I'll never forget the utterly dejected look on her face, poor gal.

My roommate last year was screwing some guy while I was trying to sleep. All night. I didn't know until morning that it was with the guy who dumped me 3 days before. I win

How about this, folks? A roommate who consistently got shit-house drunk at least five nights a week, never went to class, and smoked an astonishing amount of pot. Not to mention rampant usage of other drugs and smoking cigarettes in the basement and then tossing the butts on the floor.

He would lock himself in his room and listen to screaming loud angry music, never cleaned the kitchen, and spent the weekends either drunk or hungover or both doing nothing but playing Sega hockey. Swore profusely without regard to who was over (girlfriends, parents, etc.).

Sounds like hell, eh?

Yeah, I was a really shitty roommate. Ah well. I'm much better now.

I went to a small college in Utah and had to rent an apartment with some girl I didn't know. She was really slutty and had sex with assorted shady characters with her freaking door open.

But here's the thing: she hated and I mean HATED Mormons for reasons I will never know (they were always pretty cool to me, and did you know that the missionary guys will actually DO YOUR YARDWORK if you ask them to, even if you were joking originally but then got serious after they said they would?) and got arrested at our place of residence at one point for vandalism of one of their churches. During the arrest, they found a bunch of stolen DVD players in her closet and some drugs. I was subpoenaed to appear at her trial, but thankfully I was never called to testify.

And that's the story of how I transferred mid-semester to a school in my homestate.

Transferred to a new school in my junior year of college and decided to room with my best friend from home. Unfortunately, she starts hooking up with a local Jehovah's Witness/speed freak (yeah, don't ask me how he got that way) over the summer and then he starts showing up almost every weekend when we went back to school. They had the audacity to expect me to move out when he came around, even though I had no where else to stay. Would come back to the room to find pantyhose tied to the bed and KY all over the floor. Ewwwww! She quit school and married him the next year. Needless to say, I wasn't invited to the wedding. I think it lasted about five years...

Anywho, at the end of the 1st semester, former best friend moves to another room and doesn't tell me she's let another girl know, so she can move in with me. This one is a crazy, drug-addled nut who dates a nasty, smelly biker dude. This girl would shoot up whatever she could find between her fingers or toes. I still tell people that was the worst year of my life. I decided to transfer (again) to another school and have never been back there since.

Ex best friend did contact me years later to apologize, and we are now friendly again.

Sophomore year: Tiny, shoebox size dorm room. Discovered that she had this thing where she would only eat rotten food. I would come home and find bananas sitting out that had turned black and were juicing from rot, and she would purposely slice apples in half and leave them out until they were barely recognizable before chowing down. She would buy chinese food and then leave it sitting on her desk for at least 24 hours before eating it. Like, chicken-and-broccoli chinese food. Chicken!!! She must have had intestinal bacteria that could have stormed Normandy. My entire room smelled like someone had put cheese into a used sock and put it in a garbage disposal with rancid milk and farts and turned it on.

Senior year: My boyfriend of junior year broke up with me late junior year--too late for me to find a new lease for our apartment together senior year without incurring unaffordable debt in cancellation fees (thank god I had my own room!). Did I mention that he had been cheating on me before we broke up? With my boss? Who, now, I not only had to work for all senior year, but I had to see when I went home, too?

I knew a man in high school who lived with a girl who would stick her used maxi pads to the tile wall in the bathroom. I guess she would just forget to throw them away when she was changing them. Ver inconsiderate.

And by inconsiderate, I mean, gaah.

I live alone and my upstairs neighbors fight constantly. I feel like they are my roomates because I can hear every word they are saying. They fight about awesome shit, like how all he does on Sundays is smoke weed, how ugly the baby is that he had with "that bitch", and my absolute favorite, fights about how the stuff they fight about is stupid. Really.

They make up by fucking loudly. She moans like Frankenstein and barks like a dog. He never makes a sound.

I had a roommate in my early 20's who is now only referred to as "Psycho Liz. Some of her highlights included smashing all her boyfriends electronics because he was stuck in a traffic jam. Wearing my one of a kind hand-made antique jacket without my permission and tearing out the lining and vomiting on it. I have never even found anything close to it for a replacement. Sleeping with my best friends boyfriend and making sure the used condoms were out for all to see. And the capper was when I went on vacation she got a cat and let the fleas get so out of control my cat died of blood poisoning. In retribution I did pee in all her shampoos though.

My current roommate is one of my best friends since elementary school. We've lived together over the course of the last four years now. I am no doubt at fault because I enable him, but he currently owes me somewhere in the ballpark of $15,000 - probably more - from never paying bills and missing rent. I fell into inescapable credit card debt covering his ass. I quit keeping track of how much money he owes me because I've given up expecting to the get the money back. He holds a part-time job that barely pays anything and seems to make very little effort to find anything else. Over the years I've repeatedly given him friendly prods in conversation asking him to do better, telling him I can't afford to pay the cable bill anymore, etc.

Yeah, it's not the nightmare scenario that many of you have. But this is the week when I have to finally cut him off, and I'm sure one of my best friendships will never be the same because of it.

I at one point had 3 roommates. One female and awesome. One female and bland but generally inoffensive. One was male and may have been Satan incarnate. He was 21, and though technically enrolled in college never actually went. He and his girlfriend (roommate #2) spent most of their time getting stoned, smoking weed, playing video games, eating my food, and bumming money off myself and awesome roommate (I was the only one with a job, BTW...the other three were parent-funded). He had temper tantrums and actually had a fit at his OWN SURPRISE BIRTHDAY PARTY his girlfriend had lovingly arranged because he was pissed about where we had taken him for dinner while she was setting it up. The final straw occured when we were moving out and I and happened to be the last person to move out of the place (because I am an idiot who was the only person with her name on the lease). I discovered that not only had asshole roommate and gf not cleaned their bathroom in possibly the entire year they'd lived there, but he had left plates under his bed...USED plates...MY plates. They appeared to have developed their own ecosystem, and were so revolting that I ended up having to throw them away. Luckily, he thought he was really showing ME by refusing to clean out the closets...not realizing he'd left behind BOTH the brand new winter coats his dad bought him :)

Mine is instead a potential roommate horror story. I had unexpectedly gotten a job and I was looking for a place to live in Manhattan. Ad after ad took me to teensy-tiny place after teensy-tiny place, many with more than two potential roommates. My search became increasingly more depressing, either because of the size or because I'd always get somewhere and find the apartment was already rented.
So I was surprised to see a listing for a very spacious apartment share on the Upper West Side, with a doorman, for some ludicrously low rent. My cousin and I arrived, and a woman - maybe late 30s - greeted my cousin and me. We entered the place at the kitchen, where the woman was just finishing up with someone. We could see into the living room, which was huge and open, with gorgeous wood floors. There was only a table and a lamp in the room. The woman seemed normal enough until she offered to show us around. She took us to the living room and said she would get a light to show me the room available - and by that she meant that she would unplug the lamp and carry it from room to room. She showed me a small bedroom, and then unplugged the lamp and carried it to the next room. The room was painted bright red, and contained only a piano. The woman told us this was her room. So we ask her was she just moving into the place (no furniture other than the piano, no clothing in closets). The woman tells us "no", and that she's been living there for 10 years. The apartment was passed to her from a relative, thus rent-controlled and thus the low rent for a potential roommate.
My cousin and I asked for a moment to discuss, and I tell you, I was so desperate I almost considered it. We talked about me putting a lock on the bedroom door. But in the end, I was just too chickenshit. I had visions of being offed in the red room. We still get a chuckle out of talking about this experience.

Anyway, in the end it all worked out and I got a great share in Chelsea with someone who became a good friend. Of course she did try to bring me into the fold of an S & M service, but that's another story for another time.

I've had 4 roommates (3 dorms and 1 apartment) all of whom have really nice. *knock on wood* however a friend of a friend of mine lived in a house with 2 other young men. One of whom was depressed all time, would never come out of his room etc. After they didn't see the shut-in roommate for 3 weeks they entered his room and found him dead, suicide. I don't know they didn't smell anything before then but I guess a house with 3 guys won't be too clean in general. They had to clean up the guy's room and organize his stuff so his parents wouldn't have to.

I'm still in the roommate situation, and it's a weird one. I live in the converted living room (so the front door opens into my bedroom), and I have a male and a female roommate who live in two of the bedrooms. The landlord (who is also my ex-boyfriend) just moved out, but he's not vacating the garage, because he works on cars. His "handyman" lives in a trailer behind the garage. My male roommate has a two-year-old boy, and I have a four-year-old boy. So that makes seven people.

My female roommate is incredibly cool, so I don't mind so much that she's a little messy. My male roommate drives me crazy though, because he sits at home all day and eats, and generates dishes, but thinks that he should only have to wash dishes every third time. He also argues for the sake of arguing, but he's not that smart, so he ends up pwning himself. That's not all that big of a deal, though.

My ex-boyfriend is the real stinker. He owns a bar (where I used to work), and used to come home shit-ass drunk. He would come into our bedroom at four o'clock in the morning and play heavy metal as loud as he could (which is why I now hate heavy metal) while I was trying to sleep, and usually I would have to be at work early in the morning. So I would get up and try to turn the music down, and reason with him (didn't work), and we would end up getting in a huge fight, usually culminating with me throwing something, and him getting really pissed off and trying to kick me, and me grabbing his foot (slow drunken ass) and pushing him backward into the wall...

Yeah, good times. I guess I should feel happy when he brings his new girlfriend into the house to pick up his stuff, but I really just feel like telling her to run away now!!!

Somehow I don't think she'd listen, and I'd just come off like a crazy ex...

"She moans like Frankenstein and barks like a dog. He never makes a sound."

I don't know why, Courtney, but for some reason I find that whole sentence profoundly unsettling.

Oh, and Darth, Boo is right. That's not a friend. That's a parasite.

When looking for a house, there was one place that already had a built-in roommate. Got the open house tour - nice place, dug the kitchen, garage was good, blah-blah-blah... The last place to look is downstairs. This is when the realtor pulls the "Although the family is looking to sell now, there's a renter who's got another seven months on the lease, sooo..." The back two rooms of the basement were in absolute shambles - there were at least 500+ manga novels (and accompanying posters/models/figurines), take-out garbage/pizza boxes all over the goddamed place and anywhere from 10-15 monitors/keyboards/CPU towers strewn about the area. How is it you can buy a house with a person in it? Does that mean I would have owned him? 'Cause on second thought, that might've been kinda cool...

Darth, I've got to echo what other people are saying: no matter how good the friend, you can't do this to yourself, or let him do it to you.

I'm trying to think up bad roommate experiences, but mine were annoying, but fairly tame.

I did have one roommate who refused to put the toilet seat down. I didn't mind so much for myself, because I'm an adult, and I can fucking see if the toilet seat is up before I sit. That was never the problem.

The problem was my cat, who liked to go ripping through the apartment at top speed. For reasons I've never understood, his favorite way to stop was by zooming into the bathroom and jumping up onto the toilet. When the seat was up, he'd go flying through the air, and instead of landing safely on the seat, he'd land in the bowl. Then he'd go flying out, squalling in horror, and get toilet water all over everything in the whole damned apartment.

The roommate never learned to put the damned seat down, and my cat never learned to stop trying to jump into the toilet seat without looking first.

After six years on active duty, I left the military to go to college. Due to the time constraint between when my contract was over and when school started, I decided to just live on campus vice trying to find a place to live. I was promised an on campus apartment with either graduate students or at least juniors since I was 26 years old at the time. Instead, I got stuck in a two man dorm room that shared a common room and a bathroom with two two other guys. I didn't really talk to the kids, just did my work and ignored them. All was good until midterms. "Skippy" decided to party. Skippy was the name of one of the kids I shared a bathroom with. Really hyper, really annoying, no impulse control. So Skippy drinks a lot of something, stumbles down to the front desk, vomits all over the place and passes out. EMTs and campus cops arrive and ask him what happened...he says he drank a bunch of booze. They asked how he got it...He tells them his 26 year old roommate. 8 hours before a Statics midterm, I am taken out of my dorm room, in shorts and handcuffs and driven to the campus police station. This was during a terrible winter rain storm. I sit there for 3 hours refusing to talk to anyone until I know exactly whats going on. (Having been arrested before in the military, I don't fucking talk) Finally word from the hospital informs the cops that they pumped skippy's stomach and its fucking mouthwash. I get a half assed apology and the cops top the night off by letting me walk back about a mile and half to my dorm room at 3 am, during a 40F downpour, in shorts.

Next morning, as I am about to try and start this fucking exam, pissed at the world and planing on suing the school, and planing Skippy's death, when the Dean of the school walks in and takes me to his office to apologizes and inform me that I will be getting a week to take this and any remaining exams. I thought cool. I felt better after I kicked the shit out of Skippy though.

I didn't have any horrible roommates until AFTER college.
I moved to a new city and rented a room in a house. My new housemate mentioned that he wasn't shy and I might see him streak naked on his way to the shower. No prob, I'm pretty laid back. Turns out he was basically a nudist. He would put a pillow over his lap when I brought someone over but he was naked 90% of the time. Thankfully, he was lean and fit and at least wasn't nauseating to look at. He was also a very messy artist (always getting paint on the floors) and never cleaned up after himself (roaches would collect in the empty beer bottles that waited to go out into the recycling bin). Still, I could manage, the rent was reasonable and the location was great. But when he left the front door hanging open (despite my asking him not to do so) and my pet rabbit escaped the house and ate something in the yard that lead to his death by the next morning, I couldn't take it any more and moved out.

Later, when my husband and I were renting a good-sized condo, we rented out our spare room. First we had the repressed gay roomate who would re-arrange our furniture if we left for more than 24 hours (that wasn't what made him a repressed gay man, that is a whole other story). He also felt the need to install a lock on his door so he could lock his bedroom when he left (though I never set foot in there) and wouldn't leave it unlocked even when he was planning to move and we were trying to show the room to potential new roommates.
Then, we had the african graduate student who would forget to turn off the stove and almost burned our place down 3 times when he left food unattended and went out. Also discovered when he moved that he had been using his bathroom as a laundromat and there was a thick layer of clothing fibers/soap covering the bathroom floor, I presume from hanging up clothes to drip-dry.
Lastly, there was the young kid whose uncle was paying his rent while he tried to get on his feet and become a hairdresser. His 18 year old girlfriend was drunk every time I saw her, constantly stole any liquor we had in the house AND kicked a huge hole in his bedroom door when they were fighting.

After all that we moved to a smaller place and didn't have roomates anymore.

Freshman year, tiny little room. One very young roomie, who I am now good friends with but I know we clashed (like the time we thought it would be thrify to share shampoo/conditioner and she asked I pay more because she felt I use more conditioner). The other, a big rugby player who did not like me. She would come home rip-roaring drunk and puke off of her top bunk, and have squeaky bed sex with her boy at the oddest hours-- I would be locked out of my room at 2pm and have neighbors yelling at me because of the noise. Like I could stop it. Others would write on our white-board "get some fucking WD-40." The week the heating/insulation went and it was under 40 degrees in the room at all times was the best, because the other two abandoned ship. I stole their blankets and soaked up the silence.

Sophomore year-- lived with a friend, things were rad. Only our place had no doors, no room to unbunk beds, and a vent connected to the upstairs neighbors-- when they got high, we got high. When they were inspired to play 4 chords at 3am, we got to listen. When they lost their bong and looked for it for 2 hours, we were right there with them.

Middler year (it's like junior year)-- One roommie loved being naked. I'm talking thong and an arm covering the nips. Ate the weirdest combinations of food, which we could track because it was all left in the sink (asparagus and popcorn one night. White rice with catalina dressing often). Constantly partied, sometimes mistook her iPod for her key-- and god love her, she tried to make it work. Didn't like wasting her chrystal light and cheap vodka, would just put the half empty glass in the fridge, straw and all. Had a bitchin hair straightener though, all was forgiven.

Next set-- anti-social girl. Did not find me and my roomiefriend endearing. Allowed sketchy guy to squat in our place-- ALWAYS on the couch, never showered, ALWAYS wore roller blades. Would just glide around in our tiny space while she spend time being weird and left odd sex books around.

Currently, in a non-dorm with wonderful sister (responsible for our place being well-decorated and neat) and the most delightful roommate we could hope for. He will sing happily while cleaning dishes he didn't mess up, sample and compliment my cooking even when it comes out awful, and has enchanted the pants off (figuratively) of our old cat lady landlord.

Optimus, that sounds horrifying. Eek.

My younger sister is a horrible roommate. She has these incredibly annoying little OCD habits that drive me up the wall. For example, she has to set her bed exactly 5 inches from the wall, and she HAS to kick the bathroom rug into a big mess every time she's there. She also gets out of the shower through the wrong door (the one closest to the toilet, WTF), she sleeps with 1500 stuffed animals and talks in her sleep. She has to have her bed exactly 5 inches from the wall. One time she woke me up screaming.

I'm so glad she's gone to college to torture somebody else for a while.

my worst roomate was my ex-wife. Man did she suck.

Had a bitchin hair straightener though, all was forgiven.

Hahaha! Oh Godtopus, women are awesome.

shadows

Do I make my Paul Schaffer noise now?

Yes, I believe that appropriate at this time. :)

kalafraja: Well, it was winter, so he pooped in the snow, rolled it into a snowball, then threw it. An it sat on the porch until spring came. My brothers are CLASSY.

I have to say... I feel for you guys with your messy roommates and your smells and your dead pets (seriously, that part sucks), but nothing will top the psychological abuse that my roommate inflicted on me for the year we lived together. This is someone who was totally normal and fun when I knew her in college, and who completely went crazy in the real world. I can be messy but knew she was neat, so all of my stuff, from linens to the mail that arrived each day, I would keep in my room. Our living room was immaculate (and completely sterile and scary). Of course, sometimes I would forget to put a cup in the dishwasher, and would the next day receive scathing emails implying that I just don't do enough around the apartment, and that I'm lazy and messy and dirty and don't really deserve to live at all. She was also fond on the post-it system... after a night of drinking (okay, okay, I admit it... I booted. whatever: it happens to the best of us!), I arrived home after work (so the entire day had passed) to find a post-it on the front door, on the kitchen counter, on the HALLWAY FLOOR, and finally, on the toilet, all instructing me to "CLEAN THIS --->." I did in fact clean it, but was so pissed I never removed the post-its. They were there for weeks.

After months and months of receiving these emails (and crying at work after each one), I finally stood up to her, only to be scathingly and defensively yelled at some more. I apologized (the kind of apology that's more like "I'm sorry you're angry" and less "I'm actually sorry") and then stood there waiting for her reciprocal apology... and it didn't come. So I ASKED for it. And she said "I don't have anything to apologize for." That's about the time she decided to move out, a few months before our lease was up, and I never got a sublet to pay her share of the rent. Have fun paying double rent!

Overall, the living with my roommate after college was tolerable. I did, however, have a freak out when her parents and sister came to visit. Apparently her 14 year old sister had found out just a few days before their trip to visit that her cousin was actually her mother and her parents were actually her aunt and uncle who felt sorry for her and adopted her after she had been given up. Fun right? Anyways while they were all here, they invited me to dinner with them, in the middle of which my super mature 23 year old roommate decided to to be mad at her 14 year old just-found-out-she's-adopted sister and tell her things like "Sometimes we wish we hadn't adopted you." The parents meanwhile just sat silently and didn't say a word!

Understandably, girl freaks out and runs screaming from the restaurant. Somehow I ended up driving a car with their mother looking for her while she's telling me that she wishes she never married her husband because she's tired of dealing with all of them...oh my god get me the fuck out of this.

It was hours, I was the only one who thought to pay the bill for dinner. Then they had the audacity to invite me to dinner the next night.

The good news is that it made me absolutely adore my own family. Very rarely do we run out on a check and tell strangers our regrets about ever having this family in the first place.

The weirdest part was that my roommate never acknowledge ANY of it. Granted I didn't tell her about her mother's regrets, but never apologized or even acted like phew, glad we got through that. Course, to survive in that family, you have to be socially derranged.

I might run out of space if I try to post all of my horror stories so I'll pick out my favorites, all from the same psycho cunt.
I'd lived in the same apartment for a couple of years, needed a roommate, and she was a school acquaintance that needed a place....so....
1. She let her sister and girlfriend move in while she was out of town WITHOUT asking/telling me or our other roommate. After three days we figured out some strangers were living there and had to call the cops to get them out.
2. She locked my cat in my room for over 24hrs with no food, water, or litter box because the cat was "annoying her"
3. At the age of 24 she was trading sex and beer to HIGH SCHOOLERS for pot. In our apartment.
4. She was smoking said pot 24hrs a fucking day and not paying her rent, her share of the utilities, or for all the crap she broke around the house when she was fucked up.
5. My landlady actually evicted her (thank godtopus for separate leases) but she refused to leave. Do you have any idea how hard it is to evict a tenant in Boston in the winter? I do. It takes legal action. Fuck.
6. She ate all my food and drank all my beer and left the remnants of such all over the apartment because she was a useless fucking slob.
7. My favorite: I wake up to two police officers at my front door holding up a girl who is completely naked save a ski vest. Seems my landlady found this girl passed out on our first floor landing at 6am covered in her own bodily excretions. Turns out later that my dumb gash of a roommate had dragged home some underage girl she met at a party who was tripping out of her skull. Then, as this girl started 'annoying her' (do you see a theme?) she proceeded to throw her out at 3am, in Roxbury, in January. I shit you not. I'm still thankful I wasn't woken up by the cops asking me about the naked corpse on my front stoop.
ARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH
Just dredging all this up makes me need a bottle of whiskey!
Oh yeah, and when the other roommate and I eventually started packing up all OUR stuff because we couldn't get her out of the apartment...she stole a bunch of it. FUCK HER.

My junior year, my good friend and I decided to rent an off-campus apartment with one of her friends from high school. The friend from high school wanted, nay REQUIRED, a "charming" house rather than a sterile apartment, so we ended up in a shitty shitty (but cute!) little duplex. One night, while the other roommate and I were out, she took a pee and then turned to flush and found a huge dead rat in the bowl. Her solution? Go to bed and leave a note for us to find when we came home. So I fished the dead (and piss-soaked) rat out of the toilet with a spaghetti strainer. I still have nightmares.

Okay, this is a cheat because thankfully my college dorm only had single rooms so I never had a roommate. But, the girl living across the hall from me was a 6'5", 450-500 creature whom I not-so-lovingly refer to as Big Donna. (Her legend among my friends rivals that of Big Foot, because I have no photograhic proof of her and I think they doubt she ever existed.) Anyway, here are a list of my adventures with Big Donna:

1) Her room smelled like a mixture of sweat, toe jam, bellybutton lint, puke, and whatever was growing under the her many rolls of flesh. If her door was open (and sometimes even if it wasn't) you could smell it all the way at the other end of the hall.

2) She once stated that she was going home to visit her parents for the weekend and bleach her feet. When we asked why (why did we ask why? did we really want to know??) she just replied that her mom said it was good for them. She then got up from my friend's bed and walked to the door, unaware that she was dragging my friend's sheet halfway out into the hall, as it was wedged firmly between her buttocks.

3) Despite our best efforts to sneak off without her (we really weren't mean...it's just that, she was smelly and crazy!) she caught another girl and I leaving to go to Taco Bell. She invited herself along, and then when we got there she proceeded to order what I will forever refer to as the "Donna Special": four value meals and a DIET soda. She would also frequently visit Wendy's and order a triple cheeseburger, biggie fries, an order of nuggets, and again, a DIET soda. Cuz, you know the soda is where you get all the calories, right?
In the cafeteria, she would make a salad and then remove any nutritional value it ever had by completely covering the entire plate in about two inches of thousand island dressing. Have you ever seen such a thing, by the way? Here's what it looks like: a plate of puke!!! Oh, and have you ever seen a comedy sketch/sitcom where somebody would slice a piece of cake, then leave the slice and take what was left of the cake to eat it? Yeah, she did that.

4) This is the topper. A friend and I were riding with Big Donna in her HUGE Oldsmobile (why we agreed to get in a car with her, I will never know), when she suddenly veered out of traffic and into a parking lot. We all sat there in stunned silence for a beat before I got up the nerve to ask why she had stopped. Her reply: I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience and needed to pull over. I still don't know why I didn't jump out of the car and run for my life.

And that is just a few highlights from The Saga of Big Donna. She may not have been an official roommate, but she lived about three feet away from me, so it sort of counts, no?

Now that I'm drinking Canadian Mist straight out of the plastic bottle (classy) I may as well add that she also smelled like SHIT. She never showered or cleaned herself in any manner that I witnessed and every time she used the bathroom it smelled like old-lady-cooter for hours.

One of my current roommates actually just told me about how when she went on some month-long trip a few years ago, her dog-walker had a family emergency and couldn't come over. Her roommates refused to take her dog out or feed him, so he'd shit all over the house and they would just leave the shit there. In the house THEY were living in. For almost a month. He almost died, too, since they barely gave him any food or water.

She got back to a house full of shit and a sick dog, and her roommates bitched at her for going away for so long.

I am so deep into roommate situation shit that I really can't discuss for fear of going into a depression or anxiety attack. Bearded boyfriend and I are moving in together in March and, let's just say, I will be a much less worried person.

Oh, so many bad stories. I've had 5 roommates, only one of which I would live with again.

One roommate used to fall asleep with her headphones. No big deal usually, but the music was blaring. I could actually make out the lyrics; so I had no idea how she slept through it. Worse, she had shitty music playing: Hilary Duff and Avril Lavigne. Every Single Night. So, I would stumble out of bed and mute the sound. But since she slept so deeply, she never knew and she wouldn't hear her alarm the next morning. One morning, I banged my head on the bunk and stepped on the clock by mistake.
When she wasn't sleeping, she was trying to recruit me into the local religious cult.

Roomie #2 constantly forgot to flush...usually she had gone number 2. Not pleasant to walk in on when you want to shower. And only God knows what she was eating, because the apartment would reek.

Roomie #3 brought her extremely well-hung bf to have sex on our futon. I knew he was hung because he decided to show me right after we met.
I never slept on it again. But she was the nicest roomie, strangely enough.

Roomie #4 was a racist, evil whore who insisted I wear socks on her white carpet. Nevermind that this was a dorm and no one ever followed the rule. One night, she got wasted (again) and puked all over her precious carpet. I like to think someone was looking out for me with that one.

TK,

It is pretty disturbing. Their fucking is in no way sexy or inspiring, just unnerving. And my guy neighbors think that she used to be a man, which makes the barking noises even more uncomfortable; there's an unfortunate resemblance.

To top it off, they frequently do one and then the other, and both the fights and the fucking involve her pet name for him, which starts with an "n" and ends with an "igger". It's appalling.

The first morning I woke up in a house that I rented with two guys and another girl I found the following note in the bathroom from one of the guys. It was on the counter next to his dirty underwear.

Dear XXXX--

I found out I have crabs so you might want to be careful using the shower.

Signed XXXX

Haaaaahhhh. It just screamed downhill from there.

I still live with the worst roommate imaginable. He pees and shits all over the place and then expects me to clean it up. I do all the cooking. He likes to vomit on my pillow. He screeches like a howler monkey being sodomized to death most nights while I'm trying to sleep. Sometimes he tries to sneak into bed with me, and I've frequently woken up to his hairy ass rubbing against my face. He once locked me out of the house at 3am when I was drunk. Stupid cat.

a guy on steroids . . . Also always walked like he was carrying a pair of watermelons.

I thought steroids made one's testicles shrink? Maybe he had testicular elephantitis?

Under his arms, stipe, under his arms. He just lived his life with his arms curved and chest puffed surrounded by his own paranoia and roid rage.

Not mine, but too good to resist.
One of my friends was randomly assinged housing her Junior year, and wound up with quite the interesting cast of characters. She's the white-bread Connecticut prep school old money trust fund type, and certainly strange enough in her own right, but the girls she was living with were reeeeally unusual.

The first one was recovering from a broken back, and always surprisingly upbeat and cheerful when talking about her horrifically abusive father and negligent mother. Aparently the therapy helped a lot, although she once said that her therapist was mad at her for not telling him about some still-unknown incident to traumatizing to describe. But she was a blast to be around, and on occasion made baked goods shaped like phalluses.

The second roommate was a Jain from India. And legally blind. And an albino. No, really. For Halloween, she drew black spots on herself and went as a Dalmatian. She was pretty nice, too.

The third in final roommate was literally the dumbest person I have ever met in my life ever. The only things she ever said were "Oh my God," "I don't know," and "That's so crazy!" Her sister was a Playboy bunny. She had fake boobs, but thought you could get pregnant if your boyfriend was masterbating IN ANOTHER BUILDING. She had never heard of Bob Dylan. She hid her own personal roll of toilet paper in her closet, inside a purse, so my friend wouldn't find it and use it. She didn't know what maccaroni and cheese was. There are no words.

My roommate's girlfriend sounded like a slaughtered pig, whilst she was mid coitus. (squeals, blood splattering & all!)

My roommate's girlfriend sounded like a slaughtered pig, whilst she was mid coitus. (squeals, blood splattering & all!)

I had this one roommate in undergrad. She didn't clean, ever. I would passive-aggressively dump all dirty dishes that had been in the sink more than seven days on her bed. Once every couple of months, her mother would come by and clean. Other than that, it was all me. We got ant infestations in three different rooms ("Oh my gosh, I don't understand why my grubby food leavings attract ants.") Her family would come by unannounced. It was in a neighborhood where my friend that worked for the public defenders' office won't go to without a police escort. When it was time to leave, I just left. I'd given up on the whole "cleaning" idea a month earlier, and the first time my mother saw the place she was so horrified she spent the next ten hours helping me move so that I wouldn't have to spend another day there. Former Roommate and I haven't spoken since.

May seem tame compared to some of the horror stories above, but my roommate from the summer of my sophmore year jumped into mind...

She, an older woman, most likely in her 50's, moved into a 2 bedroom apartment with 3 college aged students (how student housing let this one through, I will NEVER know). The highlights, er, lowlights, include:

*Moths. Lots and lots of moths. She and her hundreds of "friends" moved in, while the 3 of us killed at least 2 a day.
*Wine. She used to keep bottles of wine under her bed, and would proceed to drink them alone in her room (as her designated roommate would only go in there to sleep).
*Glasses. She loved to play "Mr Wizard", and would do the "cut potato growing in a glass of water" trick. Did I mention that the glasses were mine, and she wouldn't bother to do this 6 year-old science experiment in HER glasses?
*Pots. As in 3 ruined sauce pans, because the stupid drunk old fart didn't know that electric burners on the stove stay HOT when you turn them off... and that tomato sauce will burn off and ruin the sauce pan. Apparently the screaming fit I had from the potato science experiment in my glasses didn't sink in, and I was short 3 sauce pans.
*Vouyer. As in would come into the living room while I was doing my TV work-out, and WATCH. Not sure if she was watching me, or the TV, but I wouldn't stick around long enough to find out.

Needless to say, I felt villified when I threw a party the last night in that apartment (the other two girls had already moved out at this point), and my friends had puked/spilled/whatever all over the place, and by the time she woke up the next morning, me and my shit, and my remaining 4 glasses had moved out and on.

I spent every other summer living alone.

My freshman year of college, I was in a triple room with two psychotic girls-- the shit they put me through was absolutely insane, and i've ranted about it at length, but some of the highlights were as follows:

-The stoner roommate continuously disregarded the 'no doing drugs in the room' rule we'd set up by snorting vicodin, percocet, and so on, as well as dropping acid and eating shrooms while I was trying to work.

-Same roommate constantly knocked over my computer, causing the charger to break off INSIDE the computer, which cost a LOT of money to have replaced.

-Other roommate would kick me out of the room for full weekends when her boyfriend was over so they could have marathon sex.

-Second roommate would also go through my trash to take out things that could be recycled, and would LEAVE THEM ON MY DESK to prove a point.

I really hated those girls.

I've had two bad roommates. Freshman year- smelly gross pothead who would never bathe and always have her friends crashing on the floor and would never ask. Also would come in/leave at all hours of the night. I think she hated me because I was shy and actually studied.

Junior year: Finally out of the dorms I move in with 3 girls, one friend and 2 acquaintances. The girl who is my friend and I share a bathroom inside her master, so she can have lower rent and only 2 girls to each bathroom. By week 3 she is locking me out of the bathroom/ letting the guy she was sleeping with stay in the house without her being there, and would be belligerently drunk/high on the perscription meds she was addicted to. She also talked on the phone so loud you could hear it outside. Eventually we charged her more rent and the other girls and I shared a bathroom. She is now trying to get a job with the probation/parole office. Note to anyone trying to do this- never piss off your roommates, as they will be contacted.

In my 4 1/2 years in college I racked up a whopping 18 roomates! That has to set a record!
I had 2 my freshman year (one who was a bitch from Orange County who yelled at me one Sunday morning because she was hung over and I was crying too loudly...because my grandmother had just died,. The second who was nice, but weird and really liked watching animals, and sometimes people, give birth on our shared tv. ew.) 2 my sophomore year. Then 6 when I studied abroad my senior year (one girl I think actually was surgically attached to our sofa, one Irish girl who would go home for the weekend and leave her cereal bowls, still full of milk! on the counter) The fourth year of college I had transferred schools, so I had 3 new roomates there. (The girl I shared a bedroom with was very sweet, and very Catholic. She had a poster of the Virgin Mary hugging Pope John Paul II...seriously) The summer following I had 2 more roomates. Then my final semester of college I kept 2 of the previous roomates from the year before, and added in three new ones. (one girls boyfriend played the recorder. you know, the plastic instrument you played at your 4th grade Christmas concert? He played all over campus, and in our apartment) You might think this would signify that I might have been the bad roomate, but I just moved a lot and am actually still close to about 80% of the roomates I had. And now live alone! Finally!

This is kind of an involved story . . .

In late 2004, my girlfriend was living in a townhouse with our friends Heather and Lisa. Lisa had moved down from Mississippi to us (near New Orleans) to be closer to her girlfriend Ana. At some point, Heather and Lisa started sleeping together. At some further point, Lisa ditched Heather and went back to Ana. On Heather's birthday.

ANYWAY, Lisa was planning to move out and a new roommate was needed. The neighbor suggested a classmate of hers, Angela. Angela came over to visit around Thanksgiving and never really left after that. Angela was an extremely butch, tiny lesbian who overshared from the start, telling about how she had gotten pregnant and given the child up for adoption about 6 months prior. For SOME reason, probably to make Lisa (still living there) jealous, Heather started "dating" Angela.

Angela became more and more crazy and possessive and WEIRD, sending up to 100 text messages to Heather in an afternoon while we were all out (probably sitting at a coffee shop). One night, Lisa called me up and said "Get over here, there is crazy screaming and insanity." My girlfriend and I show up, Angela has threatened Heather, tried to burn her cat's nose with a lighter, and generally begun to act inappropriately.

The next day, this girl is kicked out. Her response to this is to lock herself in Heather's room for 3 hours and take a nap. I end up having to drive the stupid girl home near her sister's house 40 minutes away. More craziness and text messaging begins over the next two weeks. It was horrible.

Now this is the clincher. A couple months later, Heather, my girlfriend and I all move to a new place. Our old neighbor calls us screaming "Look at the paper!!" There on the front page is Angela, arrested for having given a blow job to her friend's 12 year old son. And because she's such a tiny butch lesbian, people all over town were looking at this picture going, "Why did they put the boy's picture up? That seems weird."

And that is the story of the stray lesbian of 2004. We also wrote a song about her. But that's another story.

Freshman year in college, in an 8 x 12 dorm room with two twin beds. For the last month of the school year my wannabe goth roommate met this other goth loser in the downtown area, and he moved into our room. I guess he had had enough of living in his mother's basement, like all good 28 year old men do. We lived in an all girls' building at a Catholic university so the situation was strictly verboten, and because of this there was no where for him to shower except the sink in our room. They also smoked cigarettes constantly, and because they were so "goth" they kept the curtains and windows closed all the time. I have a complex to this day about opening all curtains and turning on lights in whatever space I'm in. The pinnacle was that after all of this, they dyed their hair black in our room and left nasty ass stains all over.

I was supposed to pick her up from the airport when she came back to school for our Sophomore year, but I had become a stoner and completely flaked on her. I still don't feel bad about that.

My first roommate in college was a bit of a hick. On the first day he asked me if he could use my computer. I said sure. Later that night I came back to my dorm room and found some oddly named movies on my desktop. I opened the first one only to find a horse, a ladder, and a very unhappy woman.

That was an awkward talk.

Junior year of college I lived in a 6 room suite with 2 of my friends and 3 other people. The others were friends of a friend's boyfriend. One had a demonic rabbit. This creature licked the ink off of white boards, ran free about the suite until I exploded, chewed electrical cords, and even managed to knock a glass of water over onto its owner's laptop, killing it. And still this girl loved her rabbit. The rabbit owner also had some serious issues and was a cutter and on more than one occasion to RD busted down her door to make sure that she hadn't followed through with the suicide threats.

The other 2 were a couple. The girl was nice enough and I would have liked her more if she hadn't been dating (and later married) the dude. The guy had Tourettes and Aspergers and he didn't take his meds. When off his meds he would make lound crazy bird noises. To top that off, they weren't quite about having sex. Ever.

Moved into a great apartment when I was 18 - 2 very friendly gay housemates, seemed like nice guys. Gorgeous apartment, I was over the moon. Give him my bond money and first 2 weeks rent ($1100 approx.), as is normal in Australia. Two weeks later pay another 2 weeks rent. Then I don't see the flatmates for a few days, then come home from work to find an eviction notice under the door.
They had been given notice weeks before I moved in, and decided to get me to move in anyway, take my money, and then fuck off and leave me homeless, broke, and desperately trying to sort out their mess. Turns out they had Ice addictions and just needed some extra cash to pay for their next hit.

Thanks arseholes!

When I was a sophomore in college I lived in a suite with six girls. One of them was returning from a year off after a psychotic break. No shit. On the third day of school she locked herself in the bathroom for ten hours. Unsure of what to do, we eventually called the fire department. They had to take the door off the hinges. When they finally got in she was huddled in a corner growling. Turns out she'd stopped taking her anti-psychotics. For the rest of the year she'd cut them in half when she was running low instead of refilling her prescription. This led to a lot of fun times. Once, she got into my bed with my boyfriend in the middle of the night while I was in the bathroom. Oh, did I mention she was naked? When I came back in she wouldn't leave. My boyfriend was horrified when he woke up. She still wouldn't get out of my bed so we ended up sleeping at his place. My roommate found her still totally naked and refusing to leave the next morning. I washed my sheets twice after that.

Alright, so it's first semester my freshman year. My roommate and I get along wonderfully, we never fight, etc. So when she asks me (very politely) if I wouldn't mind making myself scarce for the night when her long distance (as in about 300 miles) boyfriend comes to visit, of course I say yes. I then immediately feel bad, because the weekend before my boyfriend had come to visit, and we had just waited until she went to bed before commencing with the sexing.
So I make plans to sleep next door with my roomate's best friend. It turns out that neighbor girl is a psychobitch who had planned sexcapdes with her boyfriend that night....and didn't tell me...and decided to carryout skanky futon sex...on the futon that I was sleeping on. While I was asleep!
Then I stumble out of her room with my pillow and end up hanging out on the guy's floor, where I meet the boy who is STILL my best friend now. He lends me his futon to sleep on, doesn't hit on me/molest me, and wakes me up in time for class then next morning, and tells me that my roomate is a huge bitch. See why I decided he's my best friend?

I lived with three other girls my freshman year, all were insane, in their own special ways. One put an electric kettle on the stove and I'm sure gave us all lung cancer from the plastic fumes which lasted for weeks. One slept with everyone who worked in our building, that's right, she dove on past the college boys and went for desk managers, attendants, janitors etc. The last accused me all year of eating her eggs and drinking her milk, despite the fact that I am allergic to both and would end up spending the day in the toilet if I decided to indulge. She still wouldn't give it up and harassed me every day until we found out one of the boys had been going into everyone's kitchens (we lived in suites) and taking food all year.

My horror roommate story is recent. I had been living with a friend for 3 years and everything was fine. She was one of my best friends. Then she started dating this vegan hipster asshole who thought he was the best thing that ever happened to her. He was a jerk to me and she worshipped him. Anyways, I tried to get along with him, but then we moved and my best friend from high school moved to Pittsburgh to live with us. The new building that we lived in had this stray cat that hung out and cried all the time right outside our door. By this time my crappy roommate's boyfriend had pretty much moved in with us without checking to make sure it was OK with the rest of us. He wanted to take in the stray. I am allergic to cats and my bad roommate already had a kitten, so I was not OK with the idea of two cats. But they bitched and moaned and promised to take care of everything for that cat, so i finally said they could take it in. But I had conditions. I wasn't going to feed the cat, clean up after the cat, or pay for anything that has to do with the cat and when her boyfriend moved out he had to take the cat. They agreed. But soon enough the stray cat peeing on stuff all the time, my crappy roommate was not cleaning the litter box, my other roommate did it. She didn't really take care of that cat at all. The stray peed on both of our couches. Then pooped on one of them. It was disgusting, and by this time so was my crappy roommate. She had a dirty hip bike kid for a boyfriend, so she stopped showering regularly also. My other roommate and I spent all of our time in our rooms or out of the house. We finally decided to get rid of the couches and we bought another one on Craig's List. The two couches we had were given to us by my bad roommates boyfriend and his old roommates. But they were so bad that no one could sit on them. So we told my roommate that we were going to get rid of them and she was pissed. She said that she didn't think that they were that bad. We told her that we were getting a new couch, but she didn't care. Well, we got rid of those couches and she freaked out at me and so did her boyfriend. Two days later, two weeks before Christmas she told us that she was going to move out and that we should do the same since the lease was in her name. My other roommate and I were two weeks from going home for Christmas at the time. We told her we didn't have time to find a new place, but we said that if she got the landlord to agree to give us back our deposit we would try to find a place by February. She said that was fine and made sure to tell me that I was the whole reason why she needed to move out. She told me I was terrible because of the couches.The peed on couches! That we replaced and told her that she could keep the replacement! Anyways, two days later we got an email from her saying that she found a place and was moving out the next day. She told us that she was not going to pay any more utilities for that month and we could just stay and pay the rent between the two of us. This led to a bunch of angry emails on both sides, since she stopped coming home when we were there and never returned our calls. Luckly we found a new place fast and we had to move out on new years day. We did not get our whole security deposit back and haven't talked to that bitch since.

1.) Had a woman in the same residence as me with a room the also looked out onto the central courtyard who stuck Shania Twain's 'You're Still The One' on repeat on her cd player, turned the volume up and left for the day.
2.) Flatmate left the biggest, nastiest log in our only loo and went out. I ended up cutting it in half with a big knife to get it to flush so I could use the toilet. He ended up nicking 3 of my prescription tranquilisers in a really stupid suicide attempt, then tried to cut his wrists and failed, then came back from a drinking binge vomiting yellow stuff all over the porch and speaking in tongues. I got the Student Advisor to phone his mom to come get him. He didn't come back.
3.) Flatmate, with whom I had originally been friends, turned out to be a dogbum halitosis-ridden creepy preteen boy paedo-porn fetishist. He had a tendency to walk around wearing only a thigh-high red sateen dressing gown and hovered so much when I was cooking that I ended up telling him to fcuk off. He tried to be best friends with all my friends while simultaneously creeping the hell out of them. I ended up finding a new flatmate, signing a new lease for the next year, and then telling him to go find somewhere else to live.
4.) Buffy-obsessed, creepy, character-less pile of awkward who would boil beef mince (and I was dating a vegetarian) and eat nothing but said mince, ramen noodles, pork sausages and tomatoes.

OSU dorms, 1989. 3 of us in a women's dorm. one roomate was really cool, funny, artistic. the other was a sorority girl.

long story short, the sorority girl came back to the dorm one night drunk off her ass. she undressed and proceeded to pee in my coffee pot.

do you hear me? A SORORITY GIRL PEED IN MY COFFEE POT!!!!

sigh..... good times...

This is one of my favorite comment diversions. Does that make me an asshole who enjoys reading about other people's suffering? I don't know. But I do know that I love a good crazy person story.

I've had 3 roommates and I've disliked living with some of them but, compared to the majority of you, I've got nothin'.

Sure one drank too much but we mutually ignored each other and all was well.

I once lived in a 4 bedroom house with 8 people. We had a keg every weekend for a two months during the summer. Me and one other roommate would try to keep up with the cleaning but it wasn't easy. My favorite was when somebody puked into a trash can full of ice and a half full keg. It sat in our kitchen for two weeks and the smell was so bad me and the other roommate (neither of which were home at the time it was puked in) finally took it out side and cleaned it. There was also constant pot smoking, and one roommate peed on the couch when he passed out something like 4 times that summer (plus another 3 or 4 on his own bed). This roommate also had his gf cheat on him with another girl on my bed...also when I wasn't home.

I've had a few bad roomie experiences, and I am adult enough to admit that I contributed to some of them. But nothing, absolutely nothing, I've lived through can top the insanity that came with living with the bitch I endured last year.

After a bad roomie experience in my sophomore year, I decided to live alone. Alas, it was far too expensive to do so in my city, so I asked an acquaintance from first year if she wanted to live with me. She was from the States, so she did absolutely none of the apartment searching, even though I wasn't in the city for the summer. I had to do the 8-hour trip from the city I was working in to our university's city to go apartment hunting at least 4 times that summer. I finally took one sight unseen in the Market area of our city. It has some nice areas, and several homeless shelters where people like to do crack. Never, ever take an apartment sight unseen. It's a lesson I learned the hard way, since I didn't discover until move-in day that our apartment was a block away from one of the shelters.

This would have been livable if my roommate weren't such a rampant bitch. She insisted on sharing food, which would have been cool with me if she ever replaced anything she fucking ate. I would buy 4 litres of milk, have one glass, 2 days later it would all be gone. I would hear her in the middle of the night get up to make oatmeal at least 2 or 3 times a night. Didn't have to be her oatmeal though. Mine would suffice quite nicely. Her antics got more and more bizarre, and I didn't quite figure it out until I looked in our medicine cabinet. She was on uppers, downers, anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills. Girl was fucked. It was nothing for me to come home and find her crying on the phone with her mom about how mean I was, but I work 2 fucking jobs so I was never home. Eventually, the wiring in our ghetto apartment got effed, and her room was left without hydro. Rather than call the hydro company, she chose to sleep on my couch in our living room for 2 months. With a space-heater on 24 hours a day. And the lights on. I guess she lived off photosynthesis and oatmeal. Her equally insane mother would call at 2 in the morning often, when I had to be up at 7 at the latest the next morning.

Nothing could have prepared me for the toilet paper situation, however. She would never buy the stuff. Ever. One time when she did, she bought paper towel. She is from the South, so maybe that was the problem. I don't know. I do know that I started buying it for myself and keeping it in my room eventually. I came home drunk one night, fully expecting she would have bought some damn toilet paper. I walked into the bathroom and realized something was very wrong. In addition to her usual trail of mayhem, notes and half-finished glasses of water everywhere, the cardboard toilet paper roll was missing. A quick survey revealed it was on top of the garbage, sitting beside an empty cob of corn (she was also amused by the "input, output" function I think. Who eats CORN on the fucking TOILET?) The roller was covered in shit. Corn shit. I screamed. I think it woke her up. I hope it did. Bitch.

Eventually, we moved after 4 months when the police told us to change our locks. She said she was going to move back to residence, but I told her she would need to find a subletter. That would probably require life-skills, so she just moved to the new place. We stopped talking shortly after. Occasionally, she would call her mother while I was home to bitch about me, but she rarely paid the phone bill. She once blamed me because she was too busy bitching about me to watch her food, and it almost caught fire. Clearly, I should have been watching it for her. 56 days before the end of the semester, she told me to give 60 days notice to our landlord since she wanted to live somewhere else next year. I was totally fine with that.

Oh, and she sounds like a cow when she has sex. My best friend asked her about a guy she had brought over several times, and she claimed she "just fooled around with him." Bullshit. I heard your Ikea furniture falling apart under the weight of fucking because you're too stupid to build it properly. GAAAHH.

I have a whole series on my blog called The Number Four Series. Some of the better ones:

Number Four Wears Circus Pants
Did you just wonder to yourself "What the fuck are Circus Pants?" It will become clear. Read on to be enlightened.

One of the first things that we learned about Number Four was that she had an unusual collection of pants. Highly unusual. She actually owned a pair of red jeans. RED. Like blood. Those were probably the most disturbing. There was also a pair of jeans, or maybe they were corduroys, that were striped in various shades of blue, with the occasional yellow stripe. The thing about the weird pants was that she would wear them with, say, a bright purple hoodie. It was an assault on the eyes, really. You would see her and just wince and look away quickly. Now, this truly might not have been that bad, but Number Four was not a small, cute girl. I'm not a skinny girl myself, but I do not walk around with gigantic portions of my flesh exposed to the elements. Somehow, even while wearing pants and a sweatshirt, Number Four would manage to walk around with a slab of about six inches of blubber on her side flapping in the breeze. It was like her clothes conspired against the world. Her pants would creep down, but only on one side, usually the left. At the same time, whatever she was covering the top half of her carcass with would slowly inch upwards, also usually on the left side. And, in complete defiance of all that is right and good in the world, she would never, ever, ever fix either article of clothing. It was baffling.

But there was one pair of pants that Number Four loved above all others; loved beyond reason. These were a pair of pajama pants that had crazy combinations of colors in vertical, wavy stripes. Sort of like these[photo], but much brighter and more glaring colors. And paired with a bright purple sweatshirt. And with six inches of side-slab exposed. It was truly a sight to behold. The pattern and the copious amount of material needed to fit her led us to determine that they resembled a circus tent. Hence, Circus Pants. Not Circus Tent Pants, like you could logically conclude. No, Pamala, Orly and I are not bounded by such trifles as logic. They were Circus Pants. The thing about these pants was that Number Four would sleep in them every night. Which is fine. Except for two things. First, she would come home from class at around noon, sometimes even as late at two, and immediately change into these eyesores. And wear them the rest of the day. For hours. Now, I have nothing against changing into your favorite comfy pajamas when you get home. But. And this is huge. She never washed them. Not once. She would wear them on laundry day when she washed every other piece of hideous clothing she owned. But the ones that she wore for hours and hours every day, and slept in every night? Those never saw one drop of soap.

Number Four Has Hygienic Issues
I have briefly touched on Number Four's lack of basic hygienic practices, in that she never washed her Circus Pants. But her battle against general cleanliness did not end there. There was a time when Number Four was struck ill. Now, Number Four had some interesting notions toward medications, but we will approach that nugget in a minute. For now, suffice it to say that she did not regularly take any medication for her illness. She eventually took enough of it to get rid of whatever was making her sick, or perhaps it abandoned her of its own volition, preferring suicide over living in such a host. But that's neither here nor there. My point of contention is that after this rather lengthy illness which involved a nasty cough and copious amounts of phlegm, Number Four did not wash her sheets that she had been sick all over. She didn't even change the pillowcase! Please note that I compulsively wash my sheets once a month. In fact, I need to wash them now, but I don't have enough quarters to do that and it is squigging me out something awful. And thinking about this is certainly not helping.

Another thing that was more evident than any of us were comfortable with (particularly Pamala) was the fact that Number Four had foot fungus. Her feet were covered in gross, black swollen blotches that she scratched red and raw. They were a testament to her summer in Costa Rica. She had various different medications for it, but she seemed to have some difficulty in actually taking them. When I was sick of hearing her whine about her feet itching (and no one can whine quite like Number Four), I told her to go put on the anti-itch cream her doctor had given her. (As yet another side note, of all the things that bother me, and there are many, the one thing that bothers me the most is when people complain about a problem they have when there is a readily available solution. "Ow, I have a headache." "Here, take an Excedrin." "I don't want to..." "Well then shut the fuck up about your headache.") She didn't want to use the medication because her friend (not even her mother/father/brother/cousin) was a Scientologist, and she told Number Four all about how taking medication is bad and wrong. I could barely contain myself. I believe I may have yelled something along the lines of "What kind of bullshit is this? You aren't even a Scientologist yourself, you're Jewish! Just take the fucking pills and you will get better!" And wouldn't you know it, she took them every day after that, because she has no actual personality or opinions of her own, she simply adopted the opinions of those around her. I think this was the root of our disdain for her. Yes, so she took the pills and applied her cream more regularly, not that it really made much of a difference in her disgusting habits with her feet. She would sit on the couch and scratch and pick at them, or rub them on the couch compulsively. And poor Pamala had to try to fall asleep every single night to the sound of Number Four raking away and her fungus-infested feet.

For more exciting tales in the Number Four Series, including how she got her name, her cooking "skills", the time she flashed Orly, and The Ugliest Blanket in the World, clickity on my name.

I had a roommate junior year of college who had ceased going to class the previous year but ended up just hanging around because he liked the town. The ex-bf and I had already had some roommate trouble, needed someone to move in, and he needed a place to live. Seemed like an easy enough solution, but boy, were we wrong.

Roomie had an unholy terror of a dog, who he was completely incapable of caring for. That dog did every drug he did; she would eat cigarette butts out of ashtrays and once ate a whole gram of hash off of the coffee table, complete with aluminum foil wrapper. Her idea of a really good time was dodging cars in the busy street our house was on while we tried to get her back into the house in one piece.

Roomie occasionally felt bad about his treatment of the dog, so instead of shutting her in her crate at night, he would simply shut her in the unused bedroom where the crate was kept. Every morning, when Roomie was passed out, the ex-bf would go downstairs and to let the dog out and find a fresh turd on the floor. He eventually got tired of cleaning up all the poo, so he started filling Roomie's unused record bags with the plastic baggies full of poo. Once all of those were filled, he taped a few of the poo-bags to the dog, smacked her on the ass, and told her to 'Go get Daddy!'.

The dog ran into Roomie's bedroom and jumped in bed with him and his girl; shortly thereafter, a horrific howl of rage shook the entire house. The shit totally hit the fan (!), but it was worth it. Fucking hi-larious.

Dude deserved it. He once took our ex-roommate and her loser boyfriend to the mall to max out his credit cards because he thought his parents were about to cut him off (they didn't). He accused me of trying to be his mother if I asked him to wash a dish.

My last 'roommate' cheated on me for a month with a co-worker; everything came out about, oh, three months before we were supposed to get married. Good times.

I am so happy I live alone right now.

My roommates were all OK, but my poor sister in law had a weird one during grad school last year. She was living in student housing and was paired with a roommate. On the day she moved in the roommate was no where to be found. Later in the day as she was arranging things in the living room, the roommate emerged from her bedroom where she had been the entire time, refused to utter a word, walked to the kitchen and then back to her room. Despite my sister in law's nice attempts to be polite and friendly, the roommate never spoke to her beyond a grunt or two and ran for her room the second she saw my sil. She told us she didn't mind this strange situation because it was "peaceful" but for the entire year I was concerned this roommate was psychopathic and might injure my sister in law. Thankfully, everyone came out unscathed. Thank goodness

I lived in a 4 bedroom apartment that was very nice with three other girls, all was well until one roommate announced they were moving out with 5 days notice, Yes she was pregnant. Desperate for rent I accepted an offer from a guy "friend" of mine to move in. Two days later he moved in and all was well for about a week until we saw what he did to his room. He had painted the walls, ceiling, closet and even the floor PITCH BLACK. On top of that he only had a single mattress in the room, no pillow, dresser, clothes, radio, nothing. When we asked "what the f%*k", he said "you never told me I couldn't paint". He lived there for the rest of the month rarely leaving his room, thank god. We spent the over 30 days trying to restore the hardwood floors, ended up painting the floor white and using over 10 coats of primer to cover the black paint on the walls. Odd thing was we had about 12 foot ceilings, never figured out how he got up there. Lesson from this story ...You really don't know someone until you live with them.