Saturday, November 6, 2010

Roommates (thanks for the idea, Anne)

Since I can't think of anything to write on my own, I'm shamelessly piggybacking on other people's ideas.  Today I'm stealing Anne's idea.  She wrote about roommate quirks and how important it is to live with people you aren't related to and don't necessarily like before you get married and try to live with someone you love that you're not related to for the rest of your life.

The only time I had roommates was in college, like most people.  Freshman year I lived with Becky who annoyed the crap out of me because most people annoy the crap out of me.  She was adorable and petite, played on the tennis team, and had a boyfriend named Chris who she called, "Chwith" in what she thought was endearing lovey-dovey babytalk, but actually probably got her closer to being murdered than she's ever been; and got me closer to being a murderer than I've ever been (up to that point.)

She got up at the buttcrack of dawn every day and proceeded to open the drawers (which were on noisy rollers) on her desk and her dresser more often than you'd think drawers could possibly need to be opened.  I counted one morning and from the time she got up at asscrack o'clock, and the time I got up at around 8:00, she opened a drawer 109 times.  She almost died that day too.  We had our beds bunked because I had to get as far away from her as I possibly could get so I'd come home and climb up to the top bunk and ignore her.  That didn't stop her from grabbing the bed post and shaking it and yelling, "Come down from there!  Let's do something!" and "I'm SO HYPER!" and "I'm tho exthited, CHWITH ith coming!" which made me fantasize about swinging my leg in a giant arc and kicking her in the face. Towards the end of that year I was in a real conundrum because although I could barely stand to look at her face, she got a car and I desperately needed to be driven around.  It was a yellow Bronco and she named it "Toto."  (cringe cringe shudder) Also, her go-to phrase for any situation that was less-than desirable was "Oh.  That sucks donkey cocks," which made me visualize human-on-donkey fellatio every time she said it, no matter what I did to try to avoid it.

We got along for the most part because I realize that I'm probably equally annoying to live with and I really held it in and was civil.  So was she.  We don't keep in touch.

The next year I lived with Michelle, who drove me nuts, but I couldn't help but love her despite her stupid boyfriend, and the fact that she never once changed her sheets, and that everything in the room was shellacked to their surfaces with her hairspray, including every single sunflower seed shell she opened, (which were tens of thousands.) We had fun.  She only lasted one semester and then she moved out.  I thought I was going to have my room to myself, but Nicole moved in.  She was in the army reserves and was pretty cool, but I wanted to live alone so bad that when the first Gulf War happened a couple weeks after she moved in, I found myself shamefully wishing she'd be called to active duty.  I know I'm a horrible person, but I really really wanted the room to myself.  The only things Nicole did that were annoying was 1. Make me race home at lunchtime every day so I could watch All My Children before she could get home and turn the tv on to watch Days of Our Lives, and 2.  Although she was a sophomore in college, she was dating a high school loser who came to visit her one weekend.  They went out somewhere and I stayed home and was doing laundry.  I went down to switch loads over and they came back.  I was obviously somewhere close by because our room light was on, the door was open, my shoes were there, and the tv was on.  When I came back up to the room about 15 minutes after I left, the door was shut and the lights were off and before I knew what I was seeing (which was pasty highschooler ass humping my roommate in MY ROOM) I was in an uncomfortable situation with a couple of naked strangers.  I hated college then.

 Suitemates:  Weirdo Michelle, Goose, Nicole the Peder and me, the cool one in the acid washed jeans.

We lived in suites so we shared a bathroom with another room.  My suitemates bugged me too.  One was Weird Michelle and the other was ... I don't even remember.  I called her Goose (to myself) because she looked like a goose.  Goose was pretty nice, but Michelle was super weird (hence the nickname "Weird Michelle").  She liked to come in my room and tell me long drawn out stories about riding in the wake of her brother's apparent coolness and the whole time she was talking she'd be methodically circling her hands into gestures of repeated downward points.  It was mesmerizing.  I think Goose must have had a boyfriend with an apartment because she wasn't there much.  Sometimes I'd have to get up in the middle of the night to pee, and I had to walk past their door to get to the bathroom.  No matter what time of night it was, Weirdo Michelle was up with all the lights on and she was usually standing in the middle of the room watching TV.  Sit down, for god's sake.  When she spotted me she would startle and jump like I was coming after her with a chain saw.  (I wasn't)

After that I switched schools (but none of my credits did) and I lived with friends for a while instead of random strangers, and then with a boyfriend who I was engaged to but he broke up with me, and my friends told me it was because he was gay.  Like actually homosexual, which they said was blatantly obvious to everyone but me.  I believed them and didn't feel so bad for being dumped.  I ran into him a few years ago and he's married with three kids. I wonder if his poor wife knows he's gay. But that's another post for another day.


  1. I'm flattered that you used my post as your inspiration. (Are you sure you're feeling ok?)

    I never lived in a dorm, and if I had, I'm POSITIVE that I would have killed someone.

    I can't wait to write more...

  2. You showed a mature restraint by not killing your roommates.

  3. I wanted to kill my roommate who snored -- a lot and loud. Then again, I pilfered the hot chocolate mix her mother sent her -- I still can't believe I did that. (It's the only thing I've stolen before or since except for a plastic number puzzle from my piano teacher's house when I was five. I got caught.) And I was a tooth-grinder in those days. And I smoked. Yes. I was the bad roommate.

  4. Poor me! I have never had a room-mate aside from a husband...

  5. Thanks for the idea. (And thanks to Anne too.)


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