So, Scarbo at Gonz's place recently linked to a site that I'm not done mining yet - it's that good! It's dedicated to passive-aggressive (in the broad sense) notes that people leave around their workplaces and shared apartments/dorms. It's full of very funny entries and fun commenters (and seriously, hella kudos to the one guy who saw me over at PK and didn't write me off as an asshole that he didn't want to talk to) but it really does dredge up some horrific memories of those poor days many of us had in our youths when we were forced to share residences with people who we wouldn't say hello to on the streets. Those old Roommates from Hell, that is.
My first roommate was on seriously heavy medication (Thorazine and Tuinol ain't no joke), and who spent my last night in the apartment wavering between sobbing uncontrollably and pounding on my door screaming in hysterics. Schizophrenic, but dammit, that shit isn't funny to live with, you know? She ought to have come with a mandatory warning label. My favorite was her throwing toilet paper rolls at me while screaming "YOU BITCH!" (Because I had only been there two days and we had an agreement to share TP expenses, but none had yet been bought.) I still can't believe her cracked-out expression didn't tip me off before I moved in. But it led pretty much directly to me seeking a new roommate immediately, and feeling a bit inured, I didn't choose too wisely there, either.
The second roommate presented herself as an imminently reasonable young woman who would totally not be a complete psycho. Wrong! I was there for a year and a half, and while I would not cast myself as an ideal person to live with, she was a total fail. What got to me the MOST were her notes. Her. endless. freaking. notes. Just a ferinstance - I paid half the dollar amount of the rent each month, minus the $.12, which I figured wasn't a big deal. Oh, hell no. It was a HUGE deal. I would open the electric bill every month and leave half of it under her door in cash, assuming she would, you know, PAY THE BILL. Wrong again! Instead she pocketed the money and **I** ended up in an apartment with the electricity shut off and a week's worth of groceries in the fridge, which I had had to stuff in there amongst her literally 13 years old "sentimental" chocolate that she just couldn't throw out despite its being completely white and disgusting. Once I delicately asked if she were ever going to EAT it and she lost her mind. I had 1/2 of a fridge shelf amid her inedible shit, and was expected to be happy with that. When I was forced to pay the electric bill because I was 8 months pregnant and needed my food, I kindly let her know that I would be deducting it from the rent...that went over like a lead balloon. The return note told me that "No, you may NOT deduct the electric bill from your rent - you will be expected to pay it on time. I pay MORE than half the rent in this place!" I responded by putting $2 on her bed in change, telling her she could keep the difference, and NOW I've paid "half" the rent for the year. Of course that just resulted in far MORE passive aggressive notes of the sort that would have made great fodder for that site, but unfortunately we didn't have the internet or digital cameras then, eh? Needless to say I was forced to stay in the tiny bedroom, was not allowed to bring a single stick of furniture into any other part of the apartment (even though some of it was sentimental stuff that my grandmother had owned and would be gone if I didn't take it after her death) and had to spend all my time in that bedroom as well - despite declarations to the contrary upon moving in, the rest of the apartment I paid half for was off limits! Because, you know, that's HER furniture. I said, "Well then I'll put some of my own furniture in," but "No, two living room sets would be crazy. We will just keep things as they are." Yeah, I'd say so. Because she was such a fucking pig we had roaches the size of SUVs, and I had to call the exterminators (as well as spend my time waiting for one of them to cut my throat in my sleep) but that didn't stop her from blaming ME for the bug problem.
I had to throw out a bag of potatoes that was buried under a mound of towels and other junk because the potatoes had liquefied into a slimy brown mass that smelled, literally, like a sewer...then get screamed at because I'd thrown out HER potatoes. Um...you were going to eat black slime? That smelled like human feces? And quite literally made me vomit? Uh...ok, packrat loon.
Ok, obviously there is a lot more, but it's got me thinking. Any other roommate from hell stories? I'm sure you've got them, if you've ever been unfortunate enough to have a roommate.
And if you don't? Take my advice. Live under a BRIDGE before you take a roommate.