Three's Company
So I moved to South Boston a month ago into an apartment with two roommates. I was pretty nervous about living with roommates again after four years alone, but one of the guys was a close friend of mine so I was confident we'd be comfortable enough to discuss anything that came up. So far, this has worked out surprisingly well between us, except for one thing... Roommate Number Three.
Roommate Number Three (Gary) is a shitbird. Juliusz (roommate number 2 and my friend) met him through a mutual acquaintence and found that he needed a place to stay in Boston through July, so he offered him the third room in our apartment. We figured it would be a great way to save money and we definitely had plenty of room. Rest assured, after one month living with Shitbird, I am confident that no amount of saved cash in the world could justify putting up with this kid's constant tomfoolery.
Right off the bat, Shitbird bounced his first check with our landlord (first month rent, last month rent, and deposit). This was a major issue with Juliusz and I, but fortunately, the landlord was fairly cool about it. While we were willing to let it pass, it really sucked because Shitbird didn't think it was a big deal in the least. He just laughed it off...
Next, the cable and internet connection debacle. Shitbird suggested that we "tap" cable from either the downstairs neighbors or the tavern next door. I asked him if he had any idea how to "tap" (his word) a cable feed, to which he responded "How hard can it be?!?". I then explained that if we get caught, we will be slapped with a huge fine and a bill for every ill-gotten cable channel and Pay-per-view event we swiped. He grunted and walked away. Later, he asked about what kind of internet connection we could get in the neighborhood. I told him the guy's downstairs (who happen to be long-time friends of Juliusz and I) had a cable modem and used a wireless network. I shouldn't have mentioned that, because Shitbird immediately asked if we could somehow pirate a connection off their network. I told him I could probably do it but considering we'd only have to pay $15 each, it wouldn't be worth it. Shitbird actually started whining like a 12-year old... "Whyyy? It would be freeeee. Geeeeeez."
Next up on the shitlist is the network we set up in the apartment. We ended up getting a cable internet connection installed and I bought a wireless router for my 2 PC's. I let my roommates know I had the router and they had the option of buying a wireless card or length of cable to connect, and that it was up to them. Shitbird asks how much a wireless card costs, and when I told him, he immediately rolled his eyes and started bitching. I told him a length of Cat5 cable long enough to hook him up to the router wouldn't be much cheaper, but if he was that upset about it, I had some extra cat-5 cabling that might be long enough to hook him up. Unfortunately, the cable was too short, and believe me, I heard about it... "Geez, that cable isn't even close to being long enough. It's like 10 feet too short! What the hell, how could you think that would be long enough?? Geez." He ended up buying a wireless card, but I can assure you, I wish he hadn't. The network is a little unstable (probably too many wireless PCs on it), so it fails out every few hours and you have to reload the router. No big deal, but Shitbird seems to relish the opportunity to point out the network's faults as though they were my own. "Scott! The Internet is down again!! I can't get into my Hotmail!!". Despite telling Shitbird that we have too many wireless PCs on the network and we're just going to have to deal with reloading the router once a day, he still makes it a point to inform me every time he can't download porn (which apparently ruins his day).
St. Patrick's Day parade debaucle... In South Boston, the St. Patrick's Day parade is a big deal. Whether you like parades, amusing political discussion, or heavy drinking, there's something for you in Southie during the St. Patrick's Day parade. So, the folks on the second floor of our building have hosted a St. Patrick's Day party for five years, and this year we decided to have the party on both floors. Shitbird immediately informs us that he is inviting 60 people to the party. Now, by this time, we were all well aware of his uncanny knack for exaggeration so we just flat-out ignored his ass and went on with planning the party. Unfortunately, Shitbird was not to be denied in his claim and demanded the ordering of no less than 3 kegs and enough vodka to make 300 green jello shots. We ended up compromising and getting 2 kegs of beer and a couple bottles of cheap vodka to keep him quiet. Now, I don't mind kegs or partying, but I was hoping to avoid the "drink until you vomit noisely" crowd that seems to accompany kegs and such. Shitbird, on the other hand, appeared to revel in the idea that he might need to have his stomach pumped come party time. In any case, the day before the party, Juliusz and I cleaned the apartment and put up a bunch of shamrochs and other decorative crap while Shitbird slept on the couch. Later in the afternoon, he mysteriously disappeared. I ended up going out to get the kegs and food, and I was met at my door by two Jack Russel terriers, yipping and jumping all over me. Turns out Shitbird invited a friend of his to spend the weekend who brought his dogs, our two new temporary houseguests. The dogs were no big deal, but the lack of informing Juliusz and I was offensive. Turns out, the dogs lacked any kind of house-training at all, so we were gifted with no less than three piles of steaming crap in our apartment and a seemingly endless shower of urine. Good times. In any case, the day of the party arrives and things go smoothly. Guests are having a good time and no one is out of control, though there is a noticeable lack of people on Shitbird's list of invitees. When asked, he cussed out all his friends, claiming they must have gotten mixed up (60+ people "got mixed up"?). He obviously felt a little ashamed at the lack of attendees, so he took it upon himself to rectify the situation in what almost became one of the most regrettable things ever. We found out later that Shitbird left the party, went downstairs to the bar across the street, and invited everyone in it to party in our place. The thing is, this was a bar notorious for it's lack of concern of consumption of things far worse than simple booze. So, I walk into our living room into what appeared to be an opium den filled with vagrants and skanky hookers and ask who invited the people in the room. The response was unanimous: "Some dude named Gary (aka Shitbird) said it was cool, dude." Fortunately, the tenuous grip that holds groups like that together usually gives way under the strain that only hours of coking it up can present, and they all began to wander back out on the street. At this time, I felt it was important to discuss the importance of the apartments "No Cokehead/Heroin Addicts" rule, and I went to find Shitbird. As I wandered down the hallway, an extremely inebriated girl popped out of Shitbird's room, almost in tears, and ran out the front door. Later on, Shitbird claimed the girl passed out on his floor and while he was trying to lift her on his bed, she came to and apparently thought he was trying to de-pants her. He found this funny. At this time, the party was winding down, so I just locked myself in my room and slept for a few hours. The kicker was that I woke up to find someone had stolen my toothpaste.
Apparently, maintaining gainful employment falls fairly low on Shitbird's list of priorities. He misses work atleast once a week, which is really his problem. That being said, every time I come home from work and he's still in bed (I work nights), I wonder if he's going to leave us in the lurch come bill time. I guess his manager sat him down and chewed him out for missing so much work already, but he seems unphased. He also mentioned the other night that he thinks his company being relocated, but he should be fine living off unemployment for the Summer. As if he's not a bad enough roommate as it is, having him around all the time would be unbearable. Juliusz and I actually got him really drunk the other night in an effort to make him miss another day of work, though I think it only made him late.
Here's the kicker, and I won't blame anyone for not believing this. Shitbird claims he is starting an escort service in the Boston area (read: hookers). He says it's going to be upscale, and he should be able to make a ton of money doing it. I asked him what he would offer as the manager, to which he had no response. Basically, he has no idea what he's getting into, but if he does try and get this business off the ground, I'm just going to tell the landlord (who is a Boston cop) what he's up to. I can only imagine the kind of person a business like that attracts, and though I'm not particularly religious or morally grounded, I refuse to live with someone like him.
Now on to the little things... These are the things that would normally not bother me in the least, or would be mere annoyances if done by anyone else. However, because it's Shitbird, I've found these things to be grating. Shitbird is not overly attentive to his physical appearance. It's not his style of dress, it's just that he's out of shape and a bit saggy. This doesn't bother me at all, it's his business, but he likes walking around the aparment naked whenever the opportunity presents itself (which is, apparently, more frequent than I dared imagine). I've found eating a salad with Shitbird's man-tits staring back at me to be a bit daunting. Also, when he goes "ultra casual", he wears too-tight color matched sweatsuits around the house that basically equate to spandex. It's funny until you've sat next to him watching tv for ten minutes, wincing at his every jiggly movement.
There is hope... Shitbird says he should be leaving in July, August at the latest. We ended up agreeing that we want him out sooner, so we're trying to think of a diplomatic way of telling him, but we're coming up empty handed so far. I really just want him out... He's really an unbearable person to be around. Hopefully, he bounces another check or tries to start his "escort business", and we can just tell the landlord we want him gone. Otherwise, we'll have to wait and see what happens, though
Roommate Number Three (Gary) is a shitbird. Juliusz (roommate number 2 and my friend) met him through a mutual acquaintence and found that he needed a place to stay in Boston through July, so he offered him the third room in our apartment. We figured it would be a great way to save money and we definitely had plenty of room. Rest assured, after one month living with Shitbird, I am confident that no amount of saved cash in the world could justify putting up with this kid's constant tomfoolery.
Right off the bat, Shitbird bounced his first check with our landlord (first month rent, last month rent, and deposit). This was a major issue with Juliusz and I, but fortunately, the landlord was fairly cool about it. While we were willing to let it pass, it really sucked because Shitbird didn't think it was a big deal in the least. He just laughed it off...
Next, the cable and internet connection debacle. Shitbird suggested that we "tap" cable from either the downstairs neighbors or the tavern next door. I asked him if he had any idea how to "tap" (his word) a cable feed, to which he responded "How hard can it be?!?". I then explained that if we get caught, we will be slapped with a huge fine and a bill for every ill-gotten cable channel and Pay-per-view event we swiped. He grunted and walked away. Later, he asked about what kind of internet connection we could get in the neighborhood. I told him the guy's downstairs (who happen to be long-time friends of Juliusz and I) had a cable modem and used a wireless network. I shouldn't have mentioned that, because Shitbird immediately asked if we could somehow pirate a connection off their network. I told him I could probably do it but considering we'd only have to pay $15 each, it wouldn't be worth it. Shitbird actually started whining like a 12-year old... "Whyyy? It would be freeeee. Geeeeeez."
Next up on the shitlist is the network we set up in the apartment. We ended up getting a cable internet connection installed and I bought a wireless router for my 2 PC's. I let my roommates know I had the router and they had the option of buying a wireless card or length of cable to connect, and that it was up to them. Shitbird asks how much a wireless card costs, and when I told him, he immediately rolled his eyes and started bitching. I told him a length of Cat5 cable long enough to hook him up to the router wouldn't be much cheaper, but if he was that upset about it, I had some extra cat-5 cabling that might be long enough to hook him up. Unfortunately, the cable was too short, and believe me, I heard about it... "Geez, that cable isn't even close to being long enough. It's like 10 feet too short! What the hell, how could you think that would be long enough?? Geez." He ended up buying a wireless card, but I can assure you, I wish he hadn't. The network is a little unstable (probably too many wireless PCs on it), so it fails out every few hours and you have to reload the router. No big deal, but Shitbird seems to relish the opportunity to point out the network's faults as though they were my own. "Scott! The Internet is down again!! I can't get into my Hotmail!!". Despite telling Shitbird that we have too many wireless PCs on the network and we're just going to have to deal with reloading the router once a day, he still makes it a point to inform me every time he can't download porn (which apparently ruins his day).
St. Patrick's Day parade debaucle... In South Boston, the St. Patrick's Day parade is a big deal. Whether you like parades, amusing political discussion, or heavy drinking, there's something for you in Southie during the St. Patrick's Day parade. So, the folks on the second floor of our building have hosted a St. Patrick's Day party for five years, and this year we decided to have the party on both floors. Shitbird immediately informs us that he is inviting 60 people to the party. Now, by this time, we were all well aware of his uncanny knack for exaggeration so we just flat-out ignored his ass and went on with planning the party. Unfortunately, Shitbird was not to be denied in his claim and demanded the ordering of no less than 3 kegs and enough vodka to make 300 green jello shots. We ended up compromising and getting 2 kegs of beer and a couple bottles of cheap vodka to keep him quiet. Now, I don't mind kegs or partying, but I was hoping to avoid the "drink until you vomit noisely" crowd that seems to accompany kegs and such. Shitbird, on the other hand, appeared to revel in the idea that he might need to have his stomach pumped come party time. In any case, the day before the party, Juliusz and I cleaned the apartment and put up a bunch of shamrochs and other decorative crap while Shitbird slept on the couch. Later in the afternoon, he mysteriously disappeared. I ended up going out to get the kegs and food, and I was met at my door by two Jack Russel terriers, yipping and jumping all over me. Turns out Shitbird invited a friend of his to spend the weekend who brought his dogs, our two new temporary houseguests. The dogs were no big deal, but the lack of informing Juliusz and I was offensive. Turns out, the dogs lacked any kind of house-training at all, so we were gifted with no less than three piles of steaming crap in our apartment and a seemingly endless shower of urine. Good times. In any case, the day of the party arrives and things go smoothly. Guests are having a good time and no one is out of control, though there is a noticeable lack of people on Shitbird's list of invitees. When asked, he cussed out all his friends, claiming they must have gotten mixed up (60+ people "got mixed up"?). He obviously felt a little ashamed at the lack of attendees, so he took it upon himself to rectify the situation in what almost became one of the most regrettable things ever. We found out later that Shitbird left the party, went downstairs to the bar across the street, and invited everyone in it to party in our place. The thing is, this was a bar notorious for it's lack of concern of consumption of things far worse than simple booze. So, I walk into our living room into what appeared to be an opium den filled with vagrants and skanky hookers and ask who invited the people in the room. The response was unanimous: "Some dude named Gary (aka Shitbird) said it was cool, dude." Fortunately, the tenuous grip that holds groups like that together usually gives way under the strain that only hours of coking it up can present, and they all began to wander back out on the street. At this time, I felt it was important to discuss the importance of the apartments "No Cokehead/Heroin Addicts" rule, and I went to find Shitbird. As I wandered down the hallway, an extremely inebriated girl popped out of Shitbird's room, almost in tears, and ran out the front door. Later on, Shitbird claimed the girl passed out on his floor and while he was trying to lift her on his bed, she came to and apparently thought he was trying to de-pants her. He found this funny. At this time, the party was winding down, so I just locked myself in my room and slept for a few hours. The kicker was that I woke up to find someone had stolen my toothpaste.
Apparently, maintaining gainful employment falls fairly low on Shitbird's list of priorities. He misses work atleast once a week, which is really his problem. That being said, every time I come home from work and he's still in bed (I work nights), I wonder if he's going to leave us in the lurch come bill time. I guess his manager sat him down and chewed him out for missing so much work already, but he seems unphased. He also mentioned the other night that he thinks his company being relocated, but he should be fine living off unemployment for the Summer. As if he's not a bad enough roommate as it is, having him around all the time would be unbearable. Juliusz and I actually got him really drunk the other night in an effort to make him miss another day of work, though I think it only made him late.
Here's the kicker, and I won't blame anyone for not believing this. Shitbird claims he is starting an escort service in the Boston area (read: hookers). He says it's going to be upscale, and he should be able to make a ton of money doing it. I asked him what he would offer as the manager, to which he had no response. Basically, he has no idea what he's getting into, but if he does try and get this business off the ground, I'm just going to tell the landlord (who is a Boston cop) what he's up to. I can only imagine the kind of person a business like that attracts, and though I'm not particularly religious or morally grounded, I refuse to live with someone like him.
Now on to the little things... These are the things that would normally not bother me in the least, or would be mere annoyances if done by anyone else. However, because it's Shitbird, I've found these things to be grating. Shitbird is not overly attentive to his physical appearance. It's not his style of dress, it's just that he's out of shape and a bit saggy. This doesn't bother me at all, it's his business, but he likes walking around the aparment naked whenever the opportunity presents itself (which is, apparently, more frequent than I dared imagine). I've found eating a salad with Shitbird's man-tits staring back at me to be a bit daunting. Also, when he goes "ultra casual", he wears too-tight color matched sweatsuits around the house that basically equate to spandex. It's funny until you've sat next to him watching tv for ten minutes, wincing at his every jiggly movement.
There is hope... Shitbird says he should be leaving in July, August at the latest. We ended up agreeing that we want him out sooner, so we're trying to think of a diplomatic way of telling him, but we're coming up empty handed so far. I really just want him out... He's really an unbearable person to be around. Hopefully, he bounces another check or tries to start his "escort business", and we can just tell the landlord we want him gone. Otherwise, we'll have to wait and see what happens, though