When I went to the University of Miami, I had an on-campus apartment. It's exactly like a regular apartment, except by virtue of being on-campus, you can get stuck with shitty roommates. I moved in my Sophomore year there with three of my fraternity brothers. Unfortunately, the next year they were getting a house together, and I couldn't afford to live anywhere but on campus. I invited three of my friends to fill the remaining space in the apartment, but about two weeks before we moved in, the two guys that were gonna be in the other room bailed. Luckily my roommate remained, but it meant we were going to get random people, and that's never good. Over the next two years, there were 5 different people that lived with us.

Chris - This was one of the guys that moved in my junior year. He wasn't home much, but he was a cool guy, and helped us "decorate" our apartment. Hijinx included mysteriously carpeting our apartment with rugs that all said "University of Miami School of Business" on them, which our RA never asked us about, and backing his truck up to one of the dorm buildings and loading one of the lobby couches into his SUV while we distracted the people working at the desk. If you saw our living room, you'd agree the one couch they gave us wasn't enough.

Matt - Matt is the gayest person I have ever known. I'm not prejudiced against homosexuals, but since he was such a fucking asshole anyway I feel inclined to bring it up. He would spend hours every day laying on the living room floor, watching The Golden Girls on TV, and doing exercises to make his ass tighter. For the record, my roommate told me that's what the exercises were for, because I had no idea. I also had no idea that the Golden Girls was on like 10 hours a day. This dude constantly made a fucking mess of the kitchen and never cleaned anything up, which became our largest problem. All the silverware and dishes in the apartment were mine, so I banned him from using them. Chris later reported to me that he saw Matt steal some of the silverware and hide it in his sock drawer so he could claim it was his. The next day, Matt was in the kitchen wearing a red armband and cooking with one of my forks. I went in there and started screaming at him, then when he didn't answer I yelled at him for being a douchebag and not responding to me. He said something that I don't remember, and probably went to his room to cry like a little girl. The next day I found out from one of my gay friends that the armband was because it was like National Gay-day or something where they all wear arm bands and don't talk. I probably should have felt bad, but I was actually proud of the fact that I got him to talk.

Stevensons - Chris moved out after one semester, and Stevensons took his place. Stevensons' name was actually also Chris, and Stevensons' wasn't his real last name. Never heard the story of why people called him that. He was another cool guy, except that he grew up about two blocks from Yankee Stadium. He drank a twelve pack every night, so basically nights would be me and him arguing about the Yankees and Red Sox, though in a light-hearted fashion. Unfortunately, because he drank so much, he would then relieve himself rather haphazardly before going to bed. Usually the urine would all be in or around the toilet seat, and he would clean it first thing when he woke up, so it wasn't a very big deal. One night he must have been exceptionally drunk, however. I went to use the bathroom just before going to bed, and it was like running into no man's land in trench warfare. As soon as I opened the door there was a urine. The toilet, mind you, was on the other side of the bathroom. There was piss everyone, most of it looking like it wasn't even aimed in the general direction of the toilet. Luckily I had shoes on, so I was able to make my way over to the toilet. It was then that I noticed there was a used condom lying on the floor next to the tub. Gross. The show curtain was closed, so I flung it open, almost hoping to see Stevensons laying there in a pool of his own blood to complete to trifecta of bodily fluids. I later found out that the condom belonged to my roommate, which was somewhat of a shock. His girlfriend lived with us as well, but in the eight or nine months we had lived together, I had no idea whether or not they had sex.

Mike - Senior year, we got two new roommates. Mike was basically never home except to sleep, and occasionally eat. If he didn't constantly leave his phone in the living room on the loudest setting so it could ring all day to annoy us, I might have forgotten he lived there.

Matt - This guy's name was actually John, but he was an actor and apparently thought his middle name, Matt, was a better stage name. Apparently, I should never live with anyone named Matt, because they're all douchebags. One day he left his resume and headshot on the coffee table in the living room, so my roommate and I looked at it. There was a part where he listed all his skills, in like a "I do all my own stunts" sort of way, I assume. There were some things listed like swimming, which I had always assumed every adult knew how to do, and kayaking, but there was even more basic stuff. He actually listed running, and even walking. What the fuck sort of acting gig are you going to audition for where the ability to walk is a big draw, a Huggie's Pull-Ups commercial? Matt must have been so conceited that he literally thought his shit didn't stink, however, because he had a habit of not flushing the toilet. Again, gross. This was also something I always assumed every adult knew how to do. If we lived together for a year and it happened once, I could understand. I'm sure in the last 20 years I've probably forgotten like half a dozen times or something. This happened at least once a week though. The big problem was that when it happened I would be furious, but then I wouldn't see the asshole for like 12 hours and I'd be over it, so I never got to yell at him and kick his ass like I wanted to. Finally, my roommate and I had had enough of it, and while we were still mad we made a little sign. I had my roommate draw a toilet, I think with some feces in it, and I wrote something along the lines of "Flush the fucking toilet, asshole". I may have commented that the toilet was a privilege, and not a right, but I'm not positive. A few hours later he came into our room with the sign and said "What the Hell is this? I thought we were adults, I didn't know we left little notes like kids" to which we replied "Well adults know how to flush the fucking toilet". After we went at it for a bit he left, then came back about two minutes later and said "Oh, I have a twelve pack of Sprite, but I'm allergic to sugar so help yourselves". That's bizarre since we had just been fighting, and I didn't even know it was possible to be allergic to sugar. I thought that was called "the diabetes".

Thank God I will never have to live with a person not of my choosing again, barring an accidental pregnancy.

dr_jeebus@sydlexia.com

Why are so many of my stories about bathrooms?

© 2008 by Dr. Jeebus