This is basically what we did with our food. We took a big purple Rubbermaid thing, put it in our room, and stored all the food–all nonperishable–in the Rubbermaid thing. We’d put a big blanket on top of the food so it’d look like we just stored clothes and crap in it.
I think my final exams have done me in. It took me far too long to get the joke. :smack:
Make a point of licking all your sodas one day when the roomie’s around. Either that’ll solve the problem, or it’s time to break out the napalm.
Oh, and big_yellow_kingswood: If I knew a chick who got drunk and started groping other chicks, I’d have gotten around to the video taping a lot earlier. I mean, for $10 in beer you could make like a grand on the internet.
I had a roommate once who was so intense about recycling that she would go through my bathroom trash, pick out my used tampon applicators, rinse them off and put them in the recycle bin.
bleah
Oh, Christ, I just *had * a fucking roommate, a guy from my reserve unit. He came back abruptly from Gitmo, talking vaguely about illness and medical problems. Well, I had just had this job from hell, no doubt populated by the sort of people who make roommates from Hell. (Boss? Asshole who bragged about how he was actually royalty, and ignored an actual sexual assault on the property between staff members! Turned out another employee was a convicted wife-beater, and he didn’t take kindly to being given orders by a woman. His record turned up four days later and he got bounced. The other guys were either lazy or hostile or both, but I was the one who got fired. Anyhoo…) So after the whole boss and coworker hell, I could readily believe the horrible stories he only hinted at. I mean, fellow service-member, right? Right? There’s standards, right?
He told me he had substance abuse problems, but I was like, yeah, okay, fine. The second day was my birthday, and I bought myself a French silk pie as a little treat. Unbeknownst to me, my dear, kind neighbors had bought a cake, and with adorable clumsiness, they hauled it over through the snow and lit the candles in the kitchen. We ate a bit of each, drank many alcoholic beverages, and said adieu. Roomie than says his doctor says it's okay for him to have wine, eyeing my wine glass. Hey, I'm not helping him do something he's not supposed to. Aside from which, we had had a talk and I told him that I couldn't afford to feed him, that he would have to feed himself. He had a job; at the time, I did not. He obviously got a piece of the cake, though.
My mom was very ill, so I went off for three days to visit. I came back, and there were dirty dishes in the sink. The cake and the pie were both gone, but the pie tin was lying on top of the garbage in the bin, and there were dirty dishes beneath his bed. Chocolate-smeared dirty dishes, the little fuck. To add to the fun, he’d handed out my damned cell phone number so I kept getting phone calls form people at AA, asking for him while I was pacing back and forth outside my mom’s room.
I called this dipshit and reminded him that he’d agreed to supply his own food. What followed, I think, illustrates how these eejits think. “I didn’t do it.”
“What?”
“I didn’t do it. Somebody else did it.”
I think my eyes are still rolling. I told him not to come back till he wanted to pick up his stuff, and he whimpered a bit but I cut him off. He hasn’t come back, which is good for him, because a month later, the unit calls: he’s been arrested. I call the cops, and they tell me he’s wanted for various things, can they search my basement room where he slept? Then I go downstairs to poke around—among other things, my alarm clock is missing, which just creeps me the fuck out-----and instead of my alarm clock, I find a screwdriver beneath his pillow and about twelve pill bottles, full of serious shit. Oxycondine, percocet, crap like that. One of the bottles was the size of a Flintstone glass. Only some of them were in his name. Worse? I’ve been getting stuff in weird names—not his name----from foreign organizations that he talked about getting jobs with. Who applies for jobs under false names?
The day after the cops call, the FBI calls. The FBI searched my house. One thing they didn’t find was my fucking passport, a souvenir of twelve years of travels, gone because this little fucking junkie needed cash. All the stamps and visas from all those countries, gone. More importantly, it took me a hundred bucks to replace the damned thing, and countless reserves of patience. He had to have gone looking for that passport, poking into holes and going in my room, all the while searching for something. He missed my jewelry, but he got my passport. If I posted about all the other lies he told, though, I could write a book.
“Somebody else took it.”
“Yeah, you fuck, who? The Easter Bunny? How smart of him to frame you by, you know, smearing chocolate all over and hiding the plates under your bed!” I swear, outside of the passport, it’s the fact that he’s such a bad liar that pisses me off and that he expected me to buy it. On the plus side, he might get deported. But holy shit, the idea that I’d fall for such a glaringly obvious lie…now that’s insulting.
Good lord, after hearing some of these stories, I’m surprised people even do the “roomate” thing anymore. Seriously, it must be one of the worst ideas out there…
I lived with one nasty bastard. People would come over and damn near faint, then they would tell me to change the cat box. I would drag them to the cat box (which was clean) and then show them the real smell, my roommates room. I don’t know how it smelled so bad, he always slept in the living room.
I was sick of the crappy futon we(I) had and spent $400 on a new one (couldn’t get a couch up the stairs) scummy roommate had a bed sitting in the front stairwell for 6 months, so me and a friend put his bed in his room so his stinking mass would not mess up my new futon. It took half an hour just to move the crap in his room to make room for his bed. As we were moving dirty clothes and other nasties, we found (drumroll please) magots. Long story short he slept on it ONCE, ever, and then stunk up my nice futon. I could tell how many days it was since I(as in ME not him) cleaned by how many of his nasty socks where stuffed between the wall and MY nice, now stinky futon.
Other things that really pissed me off.
Putting my cast iron pans in the sink to soak, Iron-Rust-Retard
Abusing my cats, I was gone for one weekend and it took 3 days for me to get the timid one out from under the kitchen table(that was mine too), One other time(I Don’t know what he did) the other cat had a cut on her front leg that would have sent me to the hospital.
This guy was a bartender and was so lazy that he would oversleep for his shift which was 7pm til 2 am.
He got a duey(dwi/dui) so for a while I would drive him to work for 7pm and then before I went to work for 5:30am I would pick him up at 4am. That bastard never A) said thanx B) never gave me gas money C)never bought me a fucking beer.
I came home one day, and the TV was blaring porn, the coffee table was knocked over, he was passed out on the floor wearing a snow suit(in the summer/he was wearing shorts an hour earlier) he had pissed himself and there was a bottle of HOT COCK lotion on the sink in the bathrooom. I just left and got drunk.
I’ve had four people over, drinking, laughing, partying, eating, and he was sleeping on the living room floor, and slept through the whole shabang, yes, people did have to walk over him, it was funny, his smell wasn’t.
He owes me $996 dollars, owes my father over $500,
Last summer when I was home, I was in a bar, and guess who comes walking in, (hadn’t seen him in over 3 years), I have never actually seen somebody’s jaw hit the floor, until then. “SCUMBAG(not his actual name, though it should be) you owe me money, buy me and my friend a beer” Me and my friend drank about six beers each on his money.
I now live alone, have 3 bedrooms, and the cats are fine, and I will NEVER EVER have a roommate again.
Sorry, don’t mean to laugh at your misfortune but that was so hilarious, I was literally laughing outloud. Particularly the snowsuit thing, hahahahah
Fucking roommates…
I’ve done that.
cannot believe he’s the first person in this thread to run with the joke…
Yeah jay jay that was the worst thing I could’ve done and it’s a good possibility the child I carry is his.
wasn’t going to make a joke of that but then is a silly young woman who thought she was in love and now realizes what a really fucking stupid git she was
I’ll admit I wasn’t the best roomie at all times either… I would sometimes borrow shampoo (when I didn’t have any left), was up at all hours of the night, bitched when woken up (hey I worked night shift at Tim Horton’s the few days off I had I wasn’t going to fuck my sleep pattern and I needed to sleep during the day).
Only twice was rent ever late on my part though and for the year and whatever I lived there we got an eviction notice near every month. We paid an extra months rent in late fees thanks to him. I could go on with other stuff too… like the friends he brought over who stole my stuff (cd’s, discman), fucked up my computer, would sit and stare at my breasts for hours on end and he would try to convince me to sleep with them because they were horny and single and I was horny and single and what could be better? Uhm maybe someone who wasn’t a pig, a tempermental asshole and a drug user…
Oh that was my first and going to be my last foray into roommates. Mom and do great living together (we’ve always been more like best friends/good roomies than anything else) and between the two of us do much better than I did anywhere else.
Okay, trying to be understanding here, but come on, people, how much shit are you willing to wade through before you realize you’re knee-deep in shit? Here’s a tip for people with terrible roommates - MOVE! You’re not stapled to these losers, are you?
Jesus, Obsidian, were’d you find this guy??
In all fairness featherlou I believe the vast majority of the stories in this thread are about X roomates, so I think it’s safe to assume that we all have moved. I know I did.
I had a roommate when I was in high school who stole clothes, money, books, underwear, and medications. Yep, she thought that she would just take some of my antibiotics for my acne. She had a little surprise when I replaced them with laxatives.
The worst thing was that there was proof of how much she was stealing and nothing was done to get me a new roommate. There was blatant evidence like her jeans that were left in the middle of the floor with a pair of MY underwear sticking out (labeled from summer camp). The dorm staff told me it was my fault for not locking things up and refused to let me be reassigned to another room or to punish my roommate. It took me threatening to go to the local police for anything to get done with the anything being that I could move the next semester. I had to convince my parents to drive four hours to pack up all my stuff so the thief couldn’t get anymore, leaving me with only a footlocker of stuff that I could lock.
I have had literally dozens of roommates and for the most part it’s been a positive experience - haven’t had most of the horror stories you list (except for the “fucking roommates!” one JayJay points out! 
) and I have endless amusing stories … roommates are a source of interesting people you would never otherwise meet.
Like the guy who had been to every war zone in the world defusing land mines, or the trapeeze artist, or the Catholic-school-teacher-in-training, or the city bus driver, or the Chinese herbalist (she wasn’t Chinese, she was studying Chinese medicine) who baked bread every Saturday morning, or the drunk Spaniard, or the Irish guy who kept missing his stop and waking up in the bus station, or the utterly psychotic ‘artist’ … wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I did learn early on to get a deposit if a bill was in my name, though.
His name wasn’t Willy D. was it? Man, the stories I could tell…
Willy would come into my room (while I was there), take my clothes out of my closet, throw them on the bed, and walk off with the hangers. When I told him not to take them, his excuse was “But I NEED these! Where the fuck do you expect me to hang my clothes?”
Ah, roommates from hell. Had one, I did, around the time that Mr. Bunny and I were first getting together. Everything started out okay, despite her annoying habits of leaving little post-it notes everywhere with notes like “Please do the dishes” and “I need the rent money from you”. See that big, wooden surface you’re sticking your notes to? You know, my door? Try knocking on it and SPEAKING to me sometime, it works even better!!!
Anyway, things progressed to where stuff of mine started disappearing. CDs were missing from their cases, and when I brought it up to her they’d mysteriously reappear, except for a couple which were never to be seen again. Clothes vanished, and strangely always stuff like coats or shirts that a petite person could still wear, since I am several sizes larger than her, never pants or dresses or tights or anything. One of my feather Mardi-Gras masks vanished, which she later copped to “borrowing” and then losing because she left it at another friend’s house and “Their house eats things.” :dubious: Mr. Bunny and I came back from one vacation to find she had picked his bike lock and “borrowed” his bike for the day. Came back from another vacation to find that she’d had quite the little party while we were gone, set fire to our living room couch, and apparently let someone SLEEP IN OUR BED although she swore up and down she’d never do such a thing, I found it pretty strange that a bunch of spare blankets had been pulled down and piled on our bed, and that someone had left their JOURNAL laying in the middle of it.
So we made arrangments to move out, informed her thirty days in advance, and she flew off the handle accusing us of abandoning her. She refused to give us our deposit back because we left glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of our room, but when I moved in there was a bed, a couch, a bunch of broken speakers, a fake Christmas tree, and several ugly paintings left behind by the previous tenant, who got his entire deposit back. Only after much nastiness and kaka-poopie name calling on both our parts did she relinquish about 2/3 of our deposit. We’ve never spoken to her since, even though all of our mutual friends continue to hang out with her.
Where’d I find him? Part of the role playing crowd initially…
And I would’ve moved sooner except for the fact that this was my first ever time living on my own and my only options for moving out were to go back to Grandma’s (completely different stressors there what with Grandpa dying and leaving me as the new person to be taken care of. Have you ever recieved the Talk from you’re 70 year old Grandmother at 7 in the morning as you walk out the door to school and aren’t even awake yet?) or move to another city and completely fuck up the schooling I was taking…
Oh and a good portion of the stuff I’m bitching about came about not long after our other roomie moved in (he added to the fuck up before we kicked him out… he would bring gay prostitutes home to hang out! Not do anything… just hang out and eat all our food or binge on meth) and the guy I bitched about started a lot of this stuff not long after I found out I was pregnant and he was dating his 18 y/o girlfriend… whom he met while he was out at the club and on drugs… she came home with him that night and really hasn’t left. I don’t know how she can stand him but then so could I for the first few months of knowing him. (I knew him and we became fairly good friends about a year before I moved in)
Been there. Never lived with any serious crooks, but lived with:
*three separate people who lost their jobs, didn’t get new jobs, eventually moved out owing me money
*two roommates who routinely ate my food and then denied doing so
*one roommate who ran up a $900 phone bill in one month (phone in my name, naturally) and then lammed out
*one idiot who was good friends with a total friggin’ crook
Yeah, sounds kind of pathetic compared to some of the stories I see here. But believe me, I learned:
*to put a PIN number on the damn phone if it was in my name
*to never keep more food in the fridge than one can afford to lose
*to never keep more CASH around than one can afford to lose
*to never, never, never be generous and say, “Don’t sweat the job situation. I’ll cover the bills 'til you get on your feet again.”
Actually, the main thing I learned is that living alone has some pretty major things to recommend it…
Could be worse. My ex-roommate turned out to be a zoophile, he also liked to steal my fiance’s panties and wore them around the house, took the bill money, and never paid the bills, tried to get my fiance to leave me for him, and put things of questionable legality on my computer.