Oh my God! Can I just complain about my stupid roommate for a bit?!
Okay, so in case you're not caught up to speed in the absurdity of my college housing experience, I'll review it here in a nutshell.
Basically, Julie thought she could use me to explore her sexuality, and when I refused to play along in her psycho-sexual drama she got pissed off and accused me of being in love with her. As if! She's a whore. She's had nine sexual partners and once, in a drunken slur, she confessed to me that a year ago she cheated on her current boyfriend and he would die if he ever found out. Oh and then she went on to tell me that we should have sex and that her boyfriend wouldn't mind because he wouldn't feel threatened. Uh, that's nice. I wonder if that's what she told the other guy.
A month later when I assumed she had gotten pass her pseudo-lesbian phase, she decided to convince our other roommate, Anne, that I'm crazy. In fact, she was so convincing that I began to question my own sanity until my family clued me into the extreme tactics of manipulation she was trying to employ. She had even called my mother to alert her that I needed professional help. Yeah, a lawyer with a restraining order. And to think I cleaned up that troll's vomit! She told me that she couldn't stand how I would talk on the phone while I was making dinner because it was most definitely a ploy to get her to come out of her room and talk to me. How egocentric is that, not to mention completely illogical. Ironically, it seems that one of her current favorite past times is to talk on the phone while she making dinner. Makes me wonder if anyone else in the world has ever done such a thing. Then she convinced Anne that I was in love with Anne's geeky boyfriend. Please, I have very high standards, and awkward teenage boys with erratic tempers do not meet them. I actually feel bad because he was honestly a pretty nice guy, but under Anne's control we are no longer allowed to speak to eachother.
I haven't spoken to any of them in almost three months, except for the night that Julie threw one of her screaming tantrums and tried to kick my door down when I wouldn't take out her trash. And then last week she asked if I was done with the oven when there was clearly chicken cooking in it. To be honest, I'm kind of scared that she's going to poison my food. Or suck my blood while I'm sleeping.
When I arrived at the apartment last night after spending the last five days in Austin, I noticed that there was a key sticking out from under the large rock next to our front door. Upon closer inspection, I saw that there was a note in Julie's handwriting hidden under the rock. "Who ever went into my room I'm going to fucking kill you, and if it was who I think it was then you're the one with the fucking issues." Of course she's referring to me. Yeah I went into your room to get something, what was it?, oh yeah, CRABS! Actually, I never went near her room, and of course I haven't even been in the apartment. So, let me get this straight, somebody may have broken into your room, so your solution is not to confront them about it but to hide a note for them and then leave a key where anybody could find it. That's good thinking.
I only have to successfully avoid her for two more days and vigilantly keep my own door locked. Pray for me.
Basically, Julie thought she could use me to explore her sexuality, and when I refused to play along in her psycho-sexual drama she got pissed off and accused me of being in love with her. As if! She's a whore. She's had nine sexual partners and once, in a drunken slur, she confessed to me that a year ago she cheated on her current boyfriend and he would die if he ever found out. Oh and then she went on to tell me that we should have sex and that her boyfriend wouldn't mind because he wouldn't feel threatened. Uh, that's nice. I wonder if that's what she told the other guy.
A month later when I assumed she had gotten pass her pseudo-lesbian phase, she decided to convince our other roommate, Anne, that I'm crazy. In fact, she was so convincing that I began to question my own sanity until my family clued me into the extreme tactics of manipulation she was trying to employ. She had even called my mother to alert her that I needed professional help. Yeah, a lawyer with a restraining order. And to think I cleaned up that troll's vomit! She told me that she couldn't stand how I would talk on the phone while I was making dinner because it was most definitely a ploy to get her to come out of her room and talk to me. How egocentric is that, not to mention completely illogical. Ironically, it seems that one of her current favorite past times is to talk on the phone while she making dinner. Makes me wonder if anyone else in the world has ever done such a thing. Then she convinced Anne that I was in love with Anne's geeky boyfriend. Please, I have very high standards, and awkward teenage boys with erratic tempers do not meet them. I actually feel bad because he was honestly a pretty nice guy, but under Anne's control we are no longer allowed to speak to eachother.
I haven't spoken to any of them in almost three months, except for the night that Julie threw one of her screaming tantrums and tried to kick my door down when I wouldn't take out her trash. And then last week she asked if I was done with the oven when there was clearly chicken cooking in it. To be honest, I'm kind of scared that she's going to poison my food. Or suck my blood while I'm sleeping.
When I arrived at the apartment last night after spending the last five days in Austin, I noticed that there was a key sticking out from under the large rock next to our front door. Upon closer inspection, I saw that there was a note in Julie's handwriting hidden under the rock. "Who ever went into my room I'm going to fucking kill you, and if it was who I think it was then you're the one with the fucking issues." Of course she's referring to me. Yeah I went into your room to get something, what was it?, oh yeah, CRABS! Actually, I never went near her room, and of course I haven't even been in the apartment. So, let me get this straight, somebody may have broken into your room, so your solution is not to confront them about it but to hide a note for them and then leave a key where anybody could find it. That's good thinking.
I only have to successfully avoid her for two more days and vigilantly keep my own door locked. Pray for me.