Jezebel
August 15th, 2006
An acquaintance of mine has gone through roommate after roommate, and man, it just sucks for her. She’s nice, responsible and completely normal, and yet she continues to get shafted with one insane roommate after another. One was a depressive alcoholic who tried to kill himself, another was obsessed with repeatedly washing her dog, and yet another up and left in the middle of the night with no explanation, taking some of her belongings with him.
Hearing her stories of woe, I’ve never been so freaking thankful that time of my life is over, because good God, it really sucked. I mean, please don’t get me wrong – I’ve had great roommates and lived with some of my dearest friends. Yes yes, there was that horrible time that Eve and I were so broke and so…God, I don’t know what we were thinking, but we shared a two-room studio apartment in the North End of Boston that was so freaking small that our two beds were smooshed together so close that we had no choice but to sleep together every night due to space limitations.
But gads, today I was thinking about my senior year in college, when four of us decided to rent a house off campus with two other girls we didn’t know well and holy shit, that was bad. Eve decided to head to London for the first part of the year, and lo, we ended up with a substitute roommate (chosen by the other two girls) from motherfucking hell, and yea, it was truly hellish. Janelle* was a tall, buxom blonde with a penchant for slutty clothes, too much perfume and a raging eating disorder. Loud, brash and brazen, she was Anna Nicole Smith after too many cigarettes and about four gallons of rum. She had a husky deep voice and was Amazonian in stature and she fancied herself to be “tough” and demonstrated it at every turn by screaming at all of us whenever she got the chance, whether it was about who took the garbage out last (never her), who ate her Rice A Roni or why, for the love of GOD, we were angry at her for having sex on the living room floor when we were supposed to be sleeping? (Um, maybe because she was banging against my bedroom door, which was actually IN THE LIVING ROOM, and I didn’t like waking up to the sounds of someone else’s orgasm? Could that be it?)
I’m not normally one to judge another’s sexual escapades, glass houses and all, but I saw that woman’s bare ass more than I’ve seen my own that semester. She brought home every guy I knew, some I dated, and some I’d only heard of by reputation. One evening, around 3 a.m., I heard a scuffle upstairs in the bathroom. Convinced she’d passed out on the floor after locking herself in for the frillionth time, I wandered up the stairs and attempted to rescue her. It wasn’t until I’d knocked on the door for a full three minutes that I heard the moaning that would indicate she was in there with her third guy of the night. I knew this because I’d caught the other two on their way out as I sat in the living room. Twice, I bumped into my ex-boyfriends on their way out as they sneaked their way down the stairs in their boxers and clutching their pants, hoping to make their escape before she woke up and figured out they were gone. Instead they found me downstairs by the door, the picture of grace and poise as I sat in the living room with a bowl of cereal watching Real World marathons and looking awkward in my plaid pajamas and wild hair.
I got into a conversation with her once about how many guys she’d slept with, and as she counted on her fingers and chewed her lip, she finally admitted that she’d lost count after 123, which was a few months back (!!). I’ve always wondered if it was for that semester, or her entire life. Both seemed possible, but sadly, the former seemed more likely. And can I just say ‘ew,’ without sounding all judgy and awful, given that at the time of this conversation, she was only 21, and thus, not THAT far out of puberty? Because: Ew.
She was a vegetarian, so she claimed, but would lapse late at night after a hard night of drinking. It wasn’t unusual the rest of us to wake up and find the entire contents of the refrigerator decimated – including one terrifying evening where the nine (9!) chicken breasts I’d had in the freezer had been turned into what looked like a very messy chicken salad and devoured in front of the television overnight. A rogue chunk drenched in mayonnaise and raisins (?!) tucked in the couch cushions was all that remained of my stash. And that morning, like every morning throughout the entire year, she denied all of it, crowing, “I AM A VEGETARIAN! MEAT DISGUSTS ME!”
It wasn’t until my other roommate caught her at 4 a.m. with half of a pilfered deli bag of sliced ham dangling out of her mouth that it all came together. Wrong as it may be, I’ve been suspicious of most vegetarians ever since.
I think about her sometimes. I often wonder how the christ she ended up so irreparably damaged that she had to fill her life with alcohol, food and sex in order to function. Sadly, I still haven’t been able to muster much pity for her, for she made my life as miserable as she possibly could that year, screaming at me – at all of us – for demanding she pick up her clothes and dishes (she left such disaster in her wake that we discovered a colony of maggots living behind her stash of shit on the kitchen counter). But mostly we demanded, for the love of God, that she stop having sex all over the house every minute and maybe take care of herself a little more, so as not to die a painful, violent death of rape, murder and destruction?
One of my fondest memories of college is hearing my friend Mike recount the time he saw her light her face on fire while extremely drunk at Harry’s Bar. Apparently she’d overdone the hair product that night, and when she the hand holding her lighter slipped, the flame caught hold of the flammable hairspray and quickly grew around her like a blazing halo. Too drunk to realize what happened, she tried to blow it out in concentric circles with her meager little lips, and she came home later that night with a singed head and eyebrows. She never did tell me what happened. Thank God for Mike. Dear God, just thinking about it, I’m seriously laughing so hard I had to collect myself to type it.
Ugh, what a waste. I can’t even feel sorry for her, even though part of me believes she’s probably dead by now, self-destructed into a ball of flames.
In other news, while taking Sunny out for her late-night walk, a frog jumped on my head in his desperate escape to make it off of the moving front door. A frog jumped on my head. It touched my hair. I grabbed with my hand, threw it, and screamed like someone was stabbing me with a bloody knife, and Adam yelled at me for terrifying the neighborhood and “crying wolf,” when what if there was a real emergency?
Seriously dude, if a frog on your head isn’t an emergency, then I don’t know what is.
*Not her real name. But does anyone watch Big Brother? She looks like a way – WAY – sluttier and trashier version of Janelle. Hence the name. But Eve totally knows who I’m talking about, don’t you?
**10,000 Maniacs.
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
15 Comments Add your own
1. Daily Tragedies | August 15th, 2006 at 11:26 pm
Oh. My. God.
Seriously, I am saddened to know that people like this exist outside of that shiny box in the corner of my living room. “Destructive” is the only word for it. Ugh.
For the record, I think a frog on one’s head is totally an emergency. Adam should have come to your rescue with some kind of weapon (spatula?) in hand.
2. Orange Peacock | August 16th, 2006 at 5:58 am
Wow. And I thought I had had some bad roommates. You should get some kind of shiny prize for this…
3. Crissy | August 16th, 2006 at 6:15 am
I can think of a few people like that. It’s hard to feel sympathy for them. Yet, it is just so sad. I really hope that they get their act together.
4. Gypsy | August 16th, 2006 at 6:28 am
Yowza. She sounds… exhausting. And probably diseased. At first as I was reading I was like, oh, she’s just having a good time! Party on! But then not so much later on. Maggots? Ew.
This trumps our roommate who we suspect tried to burn the house down. We kept hearing this whirring noise coming from upstairs in the direction of her bedroom. It would whir for a few minutes then stop then pick up again. Finally we investigated. Her hairdryer was wrapped up in a towel on the floor and turned on! Later she claimed she must have “forgotten” about it, but I call bullshit.
5. Lawyerish | August 16th, 2006 at 6:45 am
Wow. The daily orgies you had to endure far outstrip the compulsive eater/drinker I lived with in college, who ended up projectile vomiting Wendy’s through every room of the apartment.
I love – LOVE – the mental image of her looking up, startled, as your roommate caught her snarfing ham in the night. God, that is funny.
And the face/hair fire? COME ON. Gold! That’s gold!
6. Jamie | August 16th, 2006 at 7:03 am
Yet another story telling me that my college years were FAR too boring. I did have one “best friend” attempt to steal my boyfriend while I was at the mandatory class you have to take before receiving oral contraceptives from the university health center. You know, the pills that I was going to start taking so HE AND I could sleep together. HELLO?! I’m such a moron. They both came to pick me up, in MY car, and I started to figure it all out. Bastards, both of them.
Who’d have thought the ham would be the best part of that story? What a hilarious visual.
7. jonniker | August 16th, 2006 at 7:15 am
DT: Sadly, this little vignette doesn’t even begin to cover how sad she was. I remember being out at night, talking to guys and when they found out I lived with her, laughter would immediately ensue, for inevitably they’d all taken turns on her one drunken night. All 10 of them or something. Gah, it was so sad.
OP: We’ve all had ‘em! But oh, the memories of her shall shine brighter than the others. Heh.
Crissy: Don’t you wonder where they are? I picture her living in a double-wide somewhere, her hair sprayed and frozen into submission. Somewhere, there is acid wash.
Gypsy: Party on indeed. I partied quite a bit and was not entirely chaste, to say the least. But she really took the ham on this one. Oh oh – she almost burned down the house TOOOO! She would get drunk, turn on the gas burner and then PASS OUT IN THE KITCHEN.
Ish: Projectile vomit everywhere? Tell me you’re kidding. Oh God. OH GOD.
Jamie: Dude, that’s pretty traumatic.
8. GG | August 16th, 2006 at 7:18 am
Wow. Just…WOW.
Man.
PS, I have lost my comment mojo. No more funnies from me.
How does one NOT NOTICE that her face is flaming?
9. Christine | August 16th, 2006 at 7:22 am
So, if you had been in NJ for college, I would have sworn that you were living with the girl who would go on to become my roommate senior year. Except for mine was a little bit more tame. My roommate, known locally then as “Whoren Lauren” decided to stop having sex with every boy she met, and only brought them home for blowjobs. I can’t imagine it was very satisfying for her. But what are you going to do?
She was a mess too. But not so mean, actually pretty nice. Very naive. I do feel badly over whatever bad might have fallen on her.
10. -R- | August 16th, 2006 at 7:32 am
There was a girl in college who slept with so many guys in one frat that they called her Action Jackson. And then I met her and she introduced herself as Action Jackson. Whoa. And yet, she has nothing on your roommate. I feel bad for your roommate though because she must have had some serious, serious issues.
How tall are you that a frog can jump on your head? Was this a mutant frog? OMG HOW HIGH CAN FROGS JUMP? If a frog on your head is not an emergency, then nothing is.
11. Claire | August 16th, 2006 at 8:12 am
when i meet people like this, i always wonder where they came from, what their family is like, you know? More so on the maggot / having sex in the living room side – who made her think that this was OK?
it is never easy to live with a loose cannon. at first it seems like it might be fun and then you learn first hand what living in a psych ward must be like. Ugh.
12. Beth | August 16th, 2006 at 11:44 am
Ugh. Roommates. Double ugh. I had one who was drunk all the time; I just looked her up and discovered she finally finished her bachelor’s last year (took her over 15 years). Her replacement was religious to the point that she “prayed” for her cousin to have a miscarriage (and said miscarriage did happen, much to roommate’s elation). One hyper-emotional roommate swore our apartment was haunted, and that she and her boyfriend had seen a “ghost cat” on several occasions. She also let her iguana poop in the living room — and on my ironing board, and the new curtains I’d just pressed. She left abruptly and stuck me with the bills, and wanted her deposit back nonetheless. (She didn’t get it.) Man, I’ve got roommate stories. Not like yours, but some stories.
Oh, and I was at a club once that had lit candles on the tables, and I noticed a band member’s wife leaning over a table to chat with someone. It occurred to me that her hair might catch fire and that I should warn her, but she was several tables away and I didn’t want to be the big mother hen. Then her hair actually did catch fire. Ahem.
13. Leah | August 16th, 2006 at 12:52 pm
How do people like that even get into college? I just don’t understand.
14. allison | August 16th, 2006 at 2:04 pm
LOVE “Big Brother”! My husband and I can’t wait for it every summer. David thinks Janelle is a genius. Perhaps.
I lived with this girl the 2nd year I was a teacher and she had sex on my kitchen table wearing only COWBOY BOOTS. She also moved out partway through the year to live with her boyfriend but continued to pay rent at our apartment. That was awesome.
15. Stinkypaw | August 17th, 2006 at 8:52 pm
That was an emergency and screaming was so called for!
I do watch “Big Brother “, and if your old roomate was a Janelle … I feel for you!
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