Thursday
There was a homeless shelter in an abandoned sewer in the room next to mine, and I got to pay its rent.
The Verdict:
Didn't pay rent: Check!
Turned Filth Creation into an Art form?: Check!
What Utilities??: Check!
Forced his underwear and the carpet to mate and bear offspring?: Check!
For weeks I've been a white hot ball of "Get The Fuck OUT!!?!?!" every time I considered the outrageous situation of my roommate, Mr. Robert L.--Mr. Can't Work Because The Sadness is So Sad, has been staying in his room longer and longer, only the thin reek of sweat and tobacco smoke filtering through the door crack alerted me to the fact of his continued existence. No rent, no comment, only the unsettling reek. . .Finally, $1300 poorer because of my stupid, stupid continued patronization of R.L., I decided to crack his door open, and see just how he'd been living. . . .
I've seen squats with better hygeinics. Dumpsters with better class. Roach motels with livelier tenants. Behold, THE HORROR. . .
So that's where all my dishes were! His room had been slowly transforming into an extraterrestrial petri dish over the past few months--how rude of me to think that he should have been looking for a job and paying his bills when he was obviously on the verge of some exciting scientific breakthrough!
The Verdict:
Didn't pay rent: Check!
Turned Filth Creation into an Art form?: Check!
What Utilities??: Check!
Forced his underwear and the carpet to mate and bear offspring?: Check!
For weeks I've been a white hot ball of "Get The Fuck OUT!!?!?!" every time I considered the outrageous situation of my roommate, Mr. Robert L.--Mr. Can't Work Because The Sadness is So Sad, has been staying in his room longer and longer, only the thin reek of sweat and tobacco smoke filtering through the door crack alerted me to the fact of his continued existence. No rent, no comment, only the unsettling reek. . .Finally, $1300 poorer because of my stupid, stupid continued patronization of R.L., I decided to crack his door open, and see just how he'd been living. . . .
I've seen squats with better hygeinics. Dumpsters with better class. Roach motels with livelier tenants. Behold, THE HORROR. . .
So that's where all my dishes were! His room had been slowly transforming into an extraterrestrial petri dish over the past few months--how rude of me to think that he should have been looking for a job and paying his bills when he was obviously on the verge of some exciting scientific breakthrough!
Comments:
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Ah yes, Sterling Conway-Jones is a special breed. The mastochist who I had been friends with for 5-6 years before living with. Who when he sees a friend is depressed says nothing, but continues to harp on all faults of that person (regardless if they have to do with him or not) until that person only feels comfortable hiding in his own room.
Who gives somebody a 72 hour notice for an eviction, the person leaves in 36 hours, and then tries to defame and humiliate them publically. Ah yes, a special breed in deed.
No pictures of the kitchen, bathroom, or living room or any other common living areas? I didn't think so. That's because that was where your mess is/was and it wouldn't help your point much, no matter how accurate that may be.
You're a fucking child.
Who gives somebody a 72 hour notice for an eviction, the person leaves in 36 hours, and then tries to defame and humiliate them publically. Ah yes, a special breed in deed.
No pictures of the kitchen, bathroom, or living room or any other common living areas? I didn't think so. That's because that was where your mess is/was and it wouldn't help your point much, no matter how accurate that may be.
You're a fucking child.
Um submissions meaning comments? I have some stories to tell. Should I start with the pig that liked to leave food in the oven for when he was going to eat it later (including things in styrafoam) or perhaps I can tell you about the roomate that brought home 32 (I counted) homies to my house @ 3:00am, bumped gangsta rap outside my window and when the cops showed up he stashed his drugs in my room then made me talk to the cops.
I've got some doosies my friend.
Or are we supposed to comment about your situation? Can't cause I don't know Robert. But I can say that I am jealous of your new roomie...
I've got some doosies my friend.
Or are we supposed to comment about your situation? Can't cause I don't know Robert. But I can say that I am jealous of your new roomie...
# posted by 
: 6:10 PM
: 6:10 PM
No, talk about your own! I'm sick of talking about mine! Write me up a story and I'll add you to the blogger roll or whatever and we'll get it posted! Fun! Pictures are good, if you have any, but not strictly necessary. We could always find a picture of a large group of homies (for instance) and say that the picture is a dramatic representation of what happened in your living room. . .it would be nice if they were breaking shit, looting or something.
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