My Peeves

So my roommate likes horrible music, doesn't know what to like and what to not like without being directly told by the mass media and overall has no input on what goes into his ears other than selecting one trough over another.

It gets worse.

He's almost completely tone-deaf.

(as an exercise in ballsiness, I'm updating this while both he and an old friend of his are in the room. I'm still trying to sleep, as is my right at noon on a Tuesday, but whatever. he has nowhere else to go.)

My Privacy

So my roommate got into my facebook account as I left it online on my laptop in our room. Either him or one of his friends. Witty McFucktard (as the vandal shall be referred to henceforth) changed my status to read something "embarrassing". In more words, something painfully immature and obvious.

I congratulate him. Ol' Witty McFucktard managed to do something that's easier than vandalising Wikipedia. It took absolutely no creativity or effort. At least have the effort to change a person's name, add some embarrassing friends, mess up their applications, host a party in their name, something other than just click-type-laugh-really-loudly.

Yet, the only thing I thought when I saw my adjusted status (other than a mental sigh) was

Should I leave this out one day?

My Nose

My roommate likes Lysol. And Tag. And Axe. And some form of equally pungent perfume.

I once got a nosebleed from standing in a store that was too heavily scented.

I want to tell him to spray that shit outside, or in the bathroom, that it's basically as rude as farting, that I really just want to reach into his brain and make him grow the fuck up for wanting to smell like that vulgar, obvious SHIT

But I can't.

I hate being a good neighbour.

My fence is too well built.

My Politics

Okay, so everyone's making this big deal about Sarah Palin. MILF VP and all that.

I don't know about you, but I have standards. One of which is intelligence. I'm not saying anyone who takes the bible literally is stupid. That's a generalization, and to be avoided.

I'm just saying I wouldn't stick my dick in them if you paid me.

Y'know.

For fear of accidentally getting them pregnant.

My Room

3rd day of Rez life. One of the upper years from across the floor knocks. He lets her in, I take off my headphones. She asks us if we're doing okay. I don't reply. He says yes. She says good.

"Cos this room is cursed."

Cursed, I say. She says yeah.

"None of the roommates in this room have ever liked each other."

Pardon?

"Yeah. Except for like, two sets of roommates about ten years ago, they all hated each other. Glad you're getting along!"

And she's gone.

Now, I'd love to blame my hereto frosty relations with my roommate on an architectural quirk (say, the builder's bad habit of putting satanic hexes in the concrete under the carpet) But I'm pretty sure it's because my roommate and I are the embodiment of The Odd Couple 2008.

My girlfriend asks me why I didn't apply for a single room.

I say I wanted the University Experience.

Not a lie. That's part of the answer. However, the actual answer is closer to I have no idea.

My Self

In the interests of not stirring up a fuss, I'm not mentioning any details about who I am or where I'm from. Like a 16 year old girl on the internet talking to boys about fanfiction, I am someone with no name. I'm eating dinner and looking up at a radio station. Looking down at a fast food joint. (across from me, people are seated at a bar, making empty pseudo conversation about nothing at all)

People walk about me like I'm nothing. they should (misanthropy and anthrophobia are the only ways to live without going mad)

Least, that's how my roommate is living.

He has a distinctive laugh. Very distinctive. Throaty baritone range, reverberating around the concrete block halls like rubber gunfire. Like the distinctive report of a shotgun, it signals his return home. I shoot up to my feet, busy to find something to busy myself with. He stumbles into the room, his numbers strong.

In this moment, I wish I had glasses. I, too, am seated at the bar. Beside me, a group of loudmouths squeal energetically into each others' closed ears. (not fun)

He's surrounded by people. I know two of them, another is new. Sadly, this has been going on for weeks on end. I sit quietly awaiting nightfall or my next class or sleep, and for some reason he's deemed it MFing party time in our room. Not even the biggest rooms on campus could make this less invasive.

(not our room. ours is bigger.---->)

It just goes to show; play good music loud enough and everybody clears away from you. Just beautiful mate. Just beautiful. (this is why I need a dedicated stereo system for my room. my itunes keeps fucking out.)

This font is for storytelling, so I'm telling a story. Get it? Anyway, after they've all left, at least one time, he's complained to me about their presence. He's told me the reason he goes home so often is that he doesn't want to talk to all the new people all the time. Funny, that's the reason I'm so frigid when you bring your mates about. That's the reason I don't like having so many god damn people in the room at all times.

I'm out. Got a party to be at. At least I think I like those people.

My Roommate

I like my university. I like my friends. I like my courses. I like my family. I like a lot of things.

So if someone wants to call me an angry miser who just wants everything to fail and who looks for the worst in everything, I can say with absolute certainty that they're wrong.

I don't like my roommate. How can I? I've never met the guy. It's been six weeks. You think we'd have some form of communication by now. Or something. No, he just brings his friends over and leaves them in the room for extended periods of time when I'm doing. . . okay, rather unimportant things, but still. When I'm chilling in my bed, I don't want all these anonymous fuckers coming in and yelling about your shitty spineless music and worthless worries.

I won't be surprised when it turns out you're all occupying cubicles somewhere. Except my roommate. He's loathsome enough to be Lumbergh. Y'see, he has about that much fashion sense and people skills. Also, misanthropy.

Misanthropy. That's a good word. More on that later.