Had a roomate who didn’t want to wash dishes, so she piled them up under her bed. She also refused to remover personal hygiene products from her undergarments before washing and drying them…. and I often found the laundered product left in the dryer.

Another roommate (it’s now ten years later and I hope she reads this blog), was a horrible pig. She showered infrenquently, “borrowed” my clothing without asking and “forgot” to return said items, and when her cat vomited on the carpet, she’d wipe the top detritus from the carpet, but would never use water or cleaner to get the acid and bile out of the fiber. The carpet had a crusty texture as a result. She was a convert to Judasim and would leave candles burning and go to sleep, claiming that letting the candle burn was required for Shabbat (I have yet to read any documentation about the “risk your home and life and go to sleep with the candle burning” decree) . Ironic that bathing is also part of the ritual, but was usually excluded.

Acid-trip Anita: every Monday, I’d return to our dorm room to find her tripping, usually surrounded by 40s of Highlife… She lasted one semester. Great way to kick off my freshman year!

I haven’t had a room mate since then, come to think of it…

College, senior year, and what was worst was that before we lived together he was one of my best friends.

He played World of Warcraft nearly every hour of every day and when he WASN’T playing World of Warcraft, he was setting videos of his guild fighting bosses in World of Warcraft to Viking metal music and playing them at maximum volume.

By graduation I couldn’t talk to him any more because he would constantly redirect the conversation towards World of Warcraft. It was like living with a male version of Alyson Hannigan’s character in the first American Pie, except instead of band camp it was World of Warcraft.

He dumped his girlfriend of six years (who was an absolutely wonderful girl, in my opinion) to date some girl he met in his guild. She lived in California, and when she came out to visit him during the last weeks of our senior year I couldn’t even sleep in my own bed because he was in our room loving her. Strangest person I think I’ve ever met–when I went to shake her hand to introduce myself, she flinched like she thought I was going to hit her.

I basically spent the last 4 months of my senior year just mocking him with my fellow housemates behind his back. He never noticed–and if he did, he never said anything. I haven’t spoken to him since I graduated. It’s probably for the best

My first roommate, freshman year of college. We shared a single 10×18 room.

The first month or so was actually pretty great, because she was constantly out partying and I basically had the room to myself. The trouble arose when she ran out of money and started hanging around all the time. I go to an art school with a characteristically intense workload, and I have no idea how this girl hasn’t dropped out yet. The entire semester I lived with her I think I saw her doing homework once, and her art looked like the shit you’d expect from a middle school class.

She had pictures of her face all over the walls. After she saw me decorating my side of the room with nerdy posters, she decided she wanted some poo poo on her walls too, so she hopped on the computer in the dorm lobby and printed off every single picture on her camera. Most of these were just pictures of her, sometimes with family or friends. Since the printer downstairs was black and white, she colored parts of the photos in with highlighters. And for the few inches of the wall she couldn’t plaster with her own neon face, she’d use completely loving random pages torn out of magazines or shredded up newspaper clippings, sometimes with bible verses written across them in highlighter. I’m sure there’s a serial killer out there somewhere with walls exactly like this.

Oh, all of her art was self-portraiture too.

She skipped class more than she went, usually just to sleep or dick around on her laptop. For a while she’d bring her friend over for eight hours at a time and they’d sit around blasting R&B music and laughing their asses off when I was in the room trying to do homework or sleep, but that stopped after I finally kicked her friend out one night.

She also liked to occupy the bathroom for three hours at a time every week or so while she “did her hair”. She even had a sign she put on the door (scribbled on in highlighter, of course) for when she was doing her hair. I have no idea what kind of hair care procedure takes three hours once a week, but it was probably also the reason why we were constantly filing maintenance reports because her hair had completely stopped the shower drain.

Though my favorite moment living with her has to be when she came in the room at four in the morning on her cellphone, talking in her usual loud speaking voice and waking me up to “YEAH I FORGOT TO TAKE MY BIRTH CONTROL YESTERDAY SO I JUST TOOK TWO TODAY, I THINK I’M PROBABLY FINE.”

After the first semester she moved down the hall to room with her friend. Her new room was right above a friend’s room and they had to report her room several times for the screeching laughter long into the night. I got a new roommate who was far better to live with, though she did get shitfaced drunk the last weekend of school, throw up in my bed and then pass out in the common area floor.

The first day in the house I went into the bathroom, and I noticed that the bathroom cabinet was CRAMMED with psych meds. CRAMMED I tell ya.

She was a total slob… unreal… never cleaned anything, and she had two cats. She’d wear clothes reeking of sweat and covered in cat pee. She would shower once a week for 5 minutes and there would be an ALLUVIAL FAN of dirt on the bottom of the bathtub. She was bulemic and would eat, like, a whole pizza at a sitting. She ate mayonnaise out of the jar. She was so gross I pretty much stopped eating. It got to the point where I would eat, like, a packet of ramen a day.

The kitchen was FILTHY. The thing that basically pushed me over the edge into semi-anorexia was the time I went to go get a bowl off the dish rack. There was a piece of cellophane draped over the top of the clean dishes. I went to go move it and realized TO MY HORROR that it was the plastic wrap from a styrofoam tray of raw chicken.

One day I knocked her toothbrush onto the floor by accident. I went to go pick it up, and hesitated…. I decided it would be a good experiment… 5 DAYS WENT BY BEFORE SHE NOTICED. 5 FUCKIN’ DAYS.

Another time she cooked some fish, whole trout. She left the raw fish head sitting on top of the garbage overflowing out of the garbage can. I woke up the next morning and the fish head was on the floor next to my bed. I got so angry I took it and threw it under her bed. As far as I know, she never found it.

I shared an apartment with this girl a few years ago. She was the nastiest individual I’ve ever met. She used to leave leftover food sitting out in the kitchen and living room for days. She once left a package of bacon on the counter for three days, then ate it — all in one sitting I might add. I don’t know how she escaped food poisoning.

She wouldn’t bathe for WEEKS, then when she finally did she’d leave a ring of body filth nearly half an inch thick on the tub. I am NOT exaggerating. We had to go to a friend’s house to shower.

She used to get so drunk that she’d come home and pass out in her bed. She’d be so wasted that she wouldn’t even wake up to pee. She’d pee right in her bed. But worse, she wouldn’t clean it up. Her room, and after awhile the entire apartment, smelled like one big urinal.

She’d leave such a mess in the living room that finally during the last few months we lived with her, we refused to pay equal rent for the apartment. We could not hang out in the living room it was so bad. We were cooped up in our bedroom for months!

She ate our food. We were pretty hard up for cash at the time so we couldn’t afford to feed her. We had to buy only items that didn’t need to be refrigerated so we could keep them locked in a safe-box in our closet.

And the best: She burned our apartment down with a plug-in “back massager”, which she used for, ahem, other purposes. She left it plugged in and on for three days while she went out of town. Apparently the outlet couldn’t take it anymore and WHOOSH! All our stuff gone. Not to mention she’d leave her bong sitting out, and during the fire, the fire marshal found it and was going to have my bf arrested because he was the only one home at the time. She was going to let it happen. The only reason she fessed up to it being hers is because I told her I would call her parents otherwise.

We couldn’t get away from her fast enough. We went to the management and told them our problems and they let us out of the lease early.

Oh, and lurking creeper types: before you get on your high horse about ‘this is how liberals live, blah blah blah,” she voted for your boy Bush in 2000. Thankfully, I have no idea how she voted in 2004.

I arrived in the room with my parents, and she was already settled. She was sharpening a massive knife. My dad joked and asked if she was preparing for a really bad roommate. She informed us it was a hunting knife and that she had gutted “tons of deer” with it.

Weeks passed and Francie began to skip all of her classes, leading to a lot of phone calls to the room. She ate fried chicken in her bed, leaving the greasy boxes in her bed, in a pile of dirty laundry, papers, and other random objects. She slept under this pile. It smelled. The pile was usually peaked by her television – all on her little twin bed.

She left her car in teacher’s spots and acquired so many parking tickets that she got towed. She had all-day phone arguments with her parents, who at some point acquired my phone number and started calling me to make Francie do things. In the interests of them leaving me alone, I would deliver their messages with a little bit of teenage rebel voice, so she didn’t think I was trying to be a narc, but I was fed up with her being in the room and never going anywhere also. I wanted her to go to class and leave me alone and eat fried chicken somewhere else.

One day, I finally said, “Look, I need your parents to stop calling me – why can’t you just do what they say or at least not be an idiot and get a million parking tickets that they have to pay for, so they don’t know you’re being ridiculous?!” She said, “fine, be a bitch.”

Later that day I came back from class or some activity and she had taken her hunting knife to my mattress, a lot of my clothes, our rug, our bean bag chair, and had killed a squirrel with it and left it in my bed. I called her parents and threatened to press charges. They wrote me a big old check and she got kicked out of school for failing everything, having that knife, smoking in the dorm room, and bringing an animal carcass inside. I didn’t even have to tattle on her

First year of college, standard 12×15-or-so double occupancy dorm room. I came back from winter break to discover that my unfriendly, yet clean and respectful, fall term roommate had moved out, and a new, rather large roommate had moved in.

We introduced ourselves, and exchanged a brief handshake. The giant paw of a hand that felt like a clammy bag of Li’l Smokies should have been my first indication of trouble. As I took note of this, and the unkempt, flaky beard (potato chip crumbs? skin condition?) he mumbled something about having moved in a couple of days before. Already, I couldn’t help but notice while putting away my stuff that the entire room was littered with the detritus of what appeared to be several fast-food binges. After a while, I detected that the air quality in the room lingered somewhere between high school gym mats and the back corner of the local GameStop where that grubby-looking 5-year-old Pokemon fan with permanent Kool-Aid mouth had been standing just two minutes ago.

I soldiered through the first couple of weeks of the term under slightly improved conditions, until I came back from studying late one night to find my previously-made bed completely disheveled and littered with the remains of an entire box of Dunkin’ Donuts. My roommate was nowhere to be found. I furiously discarded the box that had been left on my pillow, and did my best to brush away the crumbs and smeared-in flakes of icing that had somehow been left along the entire length of the bed. By this point, I was extremely tired, and (very unwisely) decided to delay doing the laundry (I only had one set of bedding) until the next morning.

A few days later, I find out that the rashes that had just cropped up on my upper torso are in fact not a reaction to the new detergent I had been using, but was rather a nasty case of ringworm that I contracted from the bedding that my roommate had slept on after his doughnut orgy. In the intervening days (as I later found out), my roommate had apparently dropped out of school and surreptitiously moved out, but left most of his stuff behind, including an industrial-size, nearly-empty, expired tube of Lotrimin

My freshman year in college , I had an alcoholic for a roommate. I don’t mean he drank alot, he was truly an alcoholic. He would wake up in the morning, reach under his bed, and pull out a bottle of tequila. Every day, he would get smashed – beer, tequila, vodka, any kind of alcohol.

He would get really obnoxious when he was drunk, and sometimes violent. It usually didnt last too long, as he would eventually pass out. In our dorm room, in other peoples rooms, wherever he happened to be.

At one point, he said he was going to go a day without drinking. Now, let me say to start with, that this was in March – this means that from the end of August till then, he never went a single day without drinking! Well, let me just say, he didn’t last the day.

It’s kind of surprising that he flunked out with a 0.5 GPA!

I’ll never, ever have another roommate again. I found my current roommate online. I knew he was unemployed but he had money and assured me he was looking for a job. As it turns out he won money in a divorece settlement and is trying to get on disablility so he never has to work again. He a lazy, unemployed drunk who never leaves the house ever except to buy his booze. He spends 12 to 13 hours in front of the tv in the living room, clutching the remote and making sure I can’t ever sit out there and chill. To make things worse when his fat, drunk ass does go to bed he plays loud, horrible music ’til 2am, keeping me awake. If I don’t go out Saturday nights I’m stuck in my room once again when he has his girlfriend over and they grope on the couch. He insults my cat and stares makes sexual comments at me when he sees me. Too bad for him now one’s going to want to live with his lazy, drunk fat ass when I get my one bedroom apartment in a couple months!