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.
Some of you fuckers don’t flush when you shit. I really don’t want to see that.
The obnoxious fuckers who yell in the dorm halls during quiet hours.
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.
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.
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.
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.)
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.
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.