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Oh my college roommate definitely. She was one of those heave-ho totally pulled together types that women love to hate. She was beautiful, in shape, made A+ grades, and had a fantastic wardrobe. She also had a black belt in karate and was always working out. So what's the problem? She was on an ego trip a million miles long, and liked to get my dates away from me if she could, so when I had one over, and we'd be sitting on the couch, she would come out dressed in tight little workout clothes and start stretching in the next room, right within his line of sight. She was very limber and could do a perfect chinese split, and when she got to that part I'd just sigh and go get a rag to mop the guy's eyeballs off the floor.
Needless to say, I stopped bringing them home, but then the guy I had a huge crush on broke up with his GF and my roomie heard about it first and brought him home one day and made out with him on the couch all afternoon. The funny thing? He was a devout Christian, so while he was willing to make out, he was not willing to sleep with her, which is what she wanted. LOL.
-Threw a party with random people coming into my room and waking me up (I could sleep through the noise, but not the door opening!)
-Invited 2 girls over (underage, I think), got them drunk and one had emotional issues (turns out her brother dead and she was bawling her eyes out..sad drunk >.> I had to watch out for them or else something bad might've happened)
-Did pot in the house (If you are going to do it, do it outside because it's a fire hazard and it makes the house smell bad)
-Borrowed my game without asking
-Creepy female stalker (can someone say desperate?)
Let's see... there was paranoid Malcolm,who once tore the thermostat off the wall,because he thought there was a camera inside of it and it was watching him.
There was peculiar (but sweet) Mimi,who used cook up big pots of food and then leave them sitting on the stove for days. She would just eat her meals straight out of them. It's a wonder she never got food poisoning.
She also would occasionally eat cat food and she liked to put mayonnnaise in her hair.
There's more,but I'm feeling too lazy to type it all out.
Five years ago my teenage daughter and a long-time friend of mine, who was a recovering alcoholic with about six years of sobriety behind her, suggested we all rent a house together. My daughter liked my friend, who had lost her job in another part of the state. My daughter and I were living with my parents since my divorce. I thought it would work out well.
Turns out the alcoholic had started secretly drinking again. I began to suspect, and then she was diagnosed with lymphoma and needed chemotherapy and didn't drink all the while she went through her treatments, which took about six months. We stuck by her while she suffered through chemo, lost her hair, the whole bit. The cancer wasn't curable, but is slow-growing and won't kill her for years--her liver is going to kill her first, but she got on disability so she was home all the time. Once she was done with chemo, she took up drinking again. Talked to her about it and she started going to AA meetings for a while, but then she started drinking again and lying about her drinking and acting indignant that I'd dare accuse her of such a thing when she was going to AA meetings every day. Yes, she was going to 7 a.m. AA meetings--completely loaded because she started drinking vodka upon rising at 5 a.m. By the time my daughter got out of school, she'd be passed out somewhere in the house--one time we found her on the kitchen floor where she must have passed out while loading the dishwasher--the dishes and racks from the dishwasher were on the floor and so was she. Another time my daughter brought friends home from school and the roommate was passed out stark naked in the upstairs hall. Another time my daughter came home and the roommate was covered with dried blood from falling and cracking open her head, but was just running around like that cleaning the house. At that point I just told her she had to leave--I couldn't have that crap in the house, especially since I'd thrown my daughter's father out for drinking and drug use when she was eight years old. The friend took a room in an apartment-sharing situation in a two-family house a few towns away.
Fast forward two years, daughter graduates, so I could move out of town--was tough because I was now carrying the entire rent on this house alone. My daughter moved in with her dad--now sobered up--for the summer until she went to college. And me, sucker for punishment that I am, took the available room in the drunk roommate's apartment for a few months because it was cheap and I was allowed to bring my cats. The good part was that during the four months I was there, the drunk twice went to 30-day rehabs--paid for by us faithful taxpayers, of course, since she's on disability. She only went because she had DWI court dates and didn't want to face them. The bad part is that she resumed drinking within a week after getting out of rehab each time. It was just me and another roommate and her, not my kid, so I just bided my time there working and doing what I had to do until I paid down some debt incurred from the previous years and found a place of my own that would accept pets. I knew what I was getting into, but I didn't realize how brain damaged she'd become from the alcohol in the years since I'd thrown her out until I moved in with her again. The other roommate bought a box of clementines and left them on the counter. Within the next 24 hours she asked both of us four or five times who bought the clementines. Every conversation occurred at least three times, sometimes within a ten-minute time span because she can't remember what she just said or did. She'd wake me up in the middle of the night to ask me to hold open the garbage bag for her so she could put another, overfull garbage bag inside of it. She'd regularly cook in the middle of the night, leave everything out all over the stove and countertops and go pass out again and then wake up in the morning complaining that someone made a mess in the kitchen and now she had to clean it up. I once woke up in the night once to hear this banging and thumping sound and found her passed out under the coffee table in the living room kicking it with her legs which had somehow become entangled in the table legs. My cats were just staring at her like she was some kind of interesting specimen.
I knew my threshhold would come when I knew it was time to go, and so while she was in her last rehab I found the apartment I'm in now. The other roommate left three weeks after I did. She called since then to tell me she wants to come visit me for a few days. Said she hasn't had a drink in a long time, which I know is not true. I hung up the phone and blocked her number. She was once a good friend in her sober interlude, but now I don't think it is even possible for her to recover again. The weirdest part is that she now has a boyfriend--one of the guys who rented a room downstairs is going to save her and he has moved upstairs to be with her. Good luck to him.
I suspect, however, it has something to do with the fact that he's unemployed and she gets a government check every month.
Last edited by Mightyqueen801; 02-06-2010 at 01:54 PM..
Friends of friends, actually. I never rented to anyone that had no ties to someone I already knew...makes it easier to track them down when they didn't pay rent or destroyed my house.
I just have bad luck with rentals, so now I live with just my boyfriend. His type of crazy is easy to deal with
Location: somewhere close to Tampa, but closer to the beach
2,035 posts, read 5,035,606 times
Reputation: 1099
Quote:
Originally Posted by Cletus Awreetus-Awrightus
I had a roomate wake me up at 3 AM asking me if I wanted to help him clean the kitchen. He had done a lot of cocaine and pulled the stove and fridge away from the wall.
I had another roomate, in university housing style living, who woke me up by urinating in the corner of the room late one night.
I had another roomate, again in university-style housing, who (prior to the W:TR comedy meme) would watch Walker: Texas Ranger every night, sitting only a few feet from the television.
Five years ago my teenage daughter and a long-time friend of mine, who was a recovering alcoholic with about six years of sobriety behind her, suggested we all rent a house together. My daughter liked my friend, who had lost her job in another part of the state. My daughter and I were living with my parents since my divorce. I thought it would work out well.
Turns out the alcoholic had started secretly drinking again. I began to suspect, and then she was diagnosed with lymphoma and needed chemotherapy and didn't drink all the while she went through her treatments, which took about six months. We stuck by her while she suffered through chemo, lost her hair, the whole bit. The cancer wasn't curable, but is slow-growing and won't kill her for years--her liver is going to kill her first, but she got on disability so she was home all the time. Once she was done with chemo, she took up drinking again. Talked to her about it and she started going to AA meetings for a while, but then she started drinking again and lying about her drinking and acting indignant that I'd dare accuse her of such a thing when she was going to AA meetings every day. Yes, she was going to 7 a.m. AA meetings--completely loaded because she started drinking vodka upon rising at 5 a.m. By the time my daughter got out of school, she'd be passed out somewhere in the house--one time we found her on the kitchen floor where she must have passed out while loading the dishwasher--the dishes and racks from the dishwasher were on the floor and so was she. Another time my daughter brought friends home from school and the roommate was passed out stark naked in the upstairs hall. Another time my daughter came home and the roommate was covered with dried blood from falling and cracking open her head, but was just running around like that cleaning the house. At that point I just told her she had to leave--I couldn't have that crap in the house, especially since I'd thrown my daughter's father out for drinking and drug use when she was eight years old. The friend took a room in an apartment-sharing situation in a two-family house a few towns away.
Fast forward two years, daughter graduates, so I could move out of town--was tough because I was now carrying the entire rent on this house alone. My daughter moved in with her dad--now sobered up--for the summer until she went to college. And me, sucker for punishment that I am, took the available room in the drunk roommate's apartment for a few months because it was cheap and I was allowed to bring my cats. The good part was that during the four months I was there, the drunk twice went to 30-day rehabs--paid for by us faithful taxpayers, of course, since she's on disability. She only went because she had DWI court dates and didn't want to face them. The bad part is that she resumed drinking within a week after getting out of rehab each time. It was just me and another roommate and her, not my kid, so I just bided my time there working and doing what I had to do until I paid down some debt incurred from the previous years and found a place of my own that would accept pets. I knew what I was getting into, but I didn't realize how brain damaged she'd become from the alcohol in the years since I'd thrown her out until I moved in with her again. The other roommate bought a box of clementines and left them on the counter. Within the next 24 hours she asked both of us four or five times who bought the clementines. Every conversation occurred at least three times, sometimes within a ten-minute time span because she can't remember what she just said or did. She'd wake me up in the middle of the night to ask me to hold open the garbage bag for her so she could put another, overfull garbage bag inside of it. She'd regularly cook in the middle of the night, leave everything out all over the stove and countertops and go pass out again and then wake up in the morning complaining that someone made a mess in the kitchen and now she had to clean it up. I once woke up in the night once to hear this banging and thumping sound and found her passed out under the coffee table in the living room kicking it with her legs which had somehow become entangled in the table legs. My cats were just staring at her like she was some kind of interesting specimen.
I knew my threshhold would come when I knew it was time to go, and so while she was in her last rehab I found the apartment I'm in now. The other roommate left three weeks after I did. She called since then to tell me she wants to come visit me for a few days. Said she hasn't had a drink in a long time, which I know is not true. I hung up the phone and blocked her number. She was once a good friend in her sober interlude, but now I don't think it is even possible for her to recover again. The weirdest part is that she now has a boyfriend--one of the guys who rented a room downstairs is going to save her and he has moved upstairs to be with her. Good luck to him.
I suspect, however, it has something to do with the fact that he's unemployed and she gets a government check every month.
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