What the FUCK is wrong with you people?!

I am so glad this semester will be over for me on Thursday. I want to get the hell away from you disgusting bastards as soon as possible for many reasons.

  1. Some of you fuckers don’t flush when you shit. I really don’t want to see that.

  2. The obnoxious fuckers who yell in the dorm halls during quiet hours.

  3. Whoever keeps trashing the bathrooms, please stop. You leave your dirty fucking dishes in the sink, throw trash everywher, and sometimes puke all over everything. Whoever is doing this is causing the bathrooms to be shut down (happened 3 times this year) and gets everyone on the floor billed for the clean up.

  4. One of you dumbfucks dumped cooked beef ramen directly in front of my door. I know I didn’t do it nor did my roommate. So whichever of you shitfaced morons did this will you please clean it up?

I’m pretty sure it was the same person who wrote “Fags” on my white board. I’m pretty it’s the same several dumbasses who do this shit and boy will I be glad to be free of them.

Ah, college. The best four years of your life.

…If you’re a braindead shitslinging monkey.

I felt the same way Xan feels for the four and half years I was in college. I’m sorry you have had such a lousy time. I hope next year is better. ::hugs::

Sorry, that was me. I’d clean it up, really, but I’m tired. Oh, and I’m also in Boston. Plus, to be accurate, I actually puked cooked beef ramen in front of your door . . .

. . .

Anyway, have a great summer. I’ll see you in September.

Problems 2, 3, and 4 will solve themselves once you leave college. As an adult, you’ll very seldom have people puking in your bathroom, yelling in your house at night, or dumping food on your porch.

The bit about people not flushing their turds, though . . . it never stops. I’ve never understood the ecstasy of unflushed turds myself, but among the white collar professionals with whom I work, it’s an awfully popular hobby.

Leo Szilard, the eminent nuclear physicist, refused as a young grad student to flush his own commode, insisting that that was maids’ work.

All I can say is: be glad you only have ramen in front of your door. One fine Saturday night, one of my hallmates decided to practice his golf drive in the hallway…

…using beer bottles. Fucking dumbass.

Semester 1: Random Roommate (horrific)
Semester 2: Chosen Roommate (slightly better)
Semesters 3-4: Solo room in seniors residence (much better)
Semesters 5-10: Off campus apartment with Lady Chance (best)

Get out and get off campus. Best advice I can give you.

I feel your pain, Xan, I really do. Last year, some morons decided to throw the sofa in the lounge out the window. I lived on the eighth floor. It landed on a cop car parked next to the building. Luckily, nobody was in it. (The car, not the sofa.)

At my university, the miracle of automatic flushing toilets has virtually eliminated the floating log.

There’s something about communal living that brings out the worst in people. I can almost excuse the bad behavior of freshmen because they’re just getting used to not having Mommy around, but I can tell you horror stories of truly obnoxious behavior happening in Navy barracks that can rival any horror story told by a college student.

I feel you, Xan.


Other than the ramen, are you sure that we don’t share a dorm?

I’d say it was lucky nobody was in the incredible flying sofa, too.

I dunno, what school do you go to?

You know, he didn’t actually say that was the case…

Not as bad as peeing all over the seat.`

Oh Xan, I’m sorry kiddo.

Hope next year is better… :frowning:

Ta muchly, but I am lacking man-bits and would like to keep it that way. And, no, there was no one in the incredible flying sofa. Though it would have been morbidly fascinating if there had been, since the eighth floor was the one some kid rolled out the window while sleeping way back in the '80s to go splat in the parking lot. Thus the reason why all lofts must be at least three feet from the window.

Eh, dunno about that. Apartment living is also…an adventure, sometimes. I knew entirely more than I wanted to know about my apartment neighbors at times.

Sounds like the title of a New Age pop-psychological treatise. Run with it.