Santa Clara Man Beaten to Death in Dorm Room Focus: Tell us about your worst roommate. What did they do to piss you off? Did you ever get back at them? Did either of you ever snap and beat the other to death with a baseball bat?
My freshman year roommate Wade was the worst I'd ever had. Wade loved 2 things, the Weather Channel and turkey hunting. Every morning before he would leave to work food service he would watch the Weather Channel for an hour at least. Not so bad if he didn't get up at 4:30am everyday. The turkey hunting was fine by me until he brought a bird that he bagged back to our room and proceeded to gut it. Even that was okay but he ruptured something while gutting it causing our whole floor to reek for a few days. All in all not much to bitch about. The only thing I did was fuck my girlfriend in his new recliners... pretty weak.
My worst roomate was a girl I'll refer to as "J". She never bought groceries, never remembered that utilities aren't free and she always invited the club back to our place. The whole fucking bar would be packed into my living room eating MY food and drinking My booze, begging me for MY drugs. It all came to a head when I walked in on her boyfriend beating the shit out of her. I asked him to leave and when he offered me some of what she was having, I broke his jaw. She refused to press charges on him and was instead worried how he and I were going to be in the same dwelling after that. I left with awesome scars on my hands and a lesson learned:As appealing as punching someone in the mouth is, avoid snaggleteeth.
My freshman year roommate was fucking disgusting. First off he was Bi-sexual. And refused to indicate if he was fucking someone by leaving a note on the door, or a sock. So I never knew if I was going to open the door with him doing a she-beast or ramming some dude in the ass. He also would leave the condoms from these trysts under his bed in full view of anyone who came to visit. His laundry stretched from the back of the room to the door, and it smelled like shit. He had a tendency to sleep naked. Every night. Even if I had female company over, as he was too baked out of his mind on a daily basis. There is nothing worse than waking up rolling over and there is a hairy ball sack on the other side of the room looking at you as if to say "Good Morning!"
My last year of college my best female friend, who I'd lived with for 4 years, married her boyfriend who happened to live in the duplex across the street from us. We figured the easiest thing to do was just have him move into our place with her, and I would move in with his two male roommates who were also buddies of mine. We had problems, but the biggest issue in our house was FOOD. When living with guys, don't touch their food. They're like feral dogs protecting the carcass of their kill. Don't touch Dan's ranch dressing. Don't look sideways at Tom's hamburger meat. And they always knew exactly how many of the beers in the fridge were theirs. It didn't take me long to figure out that food was a tense subject and for me to buy all my own stuff and stay out of theirs. But because food was such a big deal, it was like this shiny button you could push when you wanted to piss someone off. Tom didn't pay rent on time? Dan would eat all of his pop-tarts. Dan wouldn't get his clothes out of the drier? Tom would drink all of his Gatorade. Things started getting really tense towards the end of the year. They absolutely could not stand each other and hated each others personalities, actions, lifestyle, EVERYTHING, to the point that Tom and Dan were barely speaking towards the end of the school year. So, one night Dan comes home from a date and puts a box of leftovers from Saltgrass Steak House in the fridge. Tom and I were in the living room watching something, so Dan looks in and pointedly says to Tom, "I’m taking Kelli home. The steak in the fridge is mine. Don't touch it." and walks back out of the house. Good grief. It was like waving a red flag at a bull. The second the door shut, Tom got out of his chair, marched to the fridge, got out the styrofoam box, sat back down, and started eating Dan's food. Me: Dude, seriously? Leave it alone. Tom: No. He's a fucking prick. He acts like he's the boss of this whole fucking house and I'm fucking tired of his bull shit attitude and the way he treats me. Like I’m the only one who’s been eating other people’s food. Fuck him. He ate every last piece of fat and scrap of potatoes. Then he threw the box away and went to the bathroom... and started making himself throw up. Me: Uh, Tom, are you okay? Tom: Yup *retch* fine. Me: ... you're throwing up. Tom: Yup. *retch* Teach that *retch* fucker. Me: Did you seriously just eat his food so you could throw it up out of spite?! Tom: *retch* So, then Dan walks back in... Dan: Tom sick? Me: ... sort of. Dan: Is it the flu or did he get food poisoning? Me: ... Tom (still bent over the toilet): Yeah. I ate something bad. I ate your fucking steak. And you got your pussy smell all over it. Made me sick. And then Dan punched Tom in the back of the head. Which caused Tom's forehead to smack the tank of the toilet. Tom spit in the toilet one last time, and then came up swinging for Dan’s face. Tom landed a couple of good ones around Dan’s head while Dan was backing down the hallway and back out the door. Once they were outside they went at it. Did I forget to mention that Tom was the heavy weight wrestler for our D1 school? It didn’t take long for him to have Dan in a submission hold on the ground and start choking him out. Luckily my friend’s husband saw the whole thing going down from his front porch. He came over and got Tom off Dan before he could do anymore damage. When Dan got his breath back they screamed at each other for about 20 minutes while Dan packed a bag to go stay at his girlfriend’s. He didn’t spend the night at our duplex for the last month we lived there. Probably for the best... since it only took Tom a week to eat all the food Dan had in the house.
My senior year I lived with a kid who was a filthy bastard. It was not uncommon to wake up at 6am to hear him banging his fatass tootsie roll loving bitch of a gf. He constantly played some computer game regardless of whether or not it was obvious I was trying to get laid. So, I put clorox in his fishtank and watched with pleasure as how tried to figure out how his fish died.
Freshman year in college I was assigned a "triple" (but a "double" sized room) leaving me not one, but two disfunctional roommates. One a physics/mathmatics double major, the other chemistry with a hard-on for astronomy. "Physics" worshipped satan, wore a chicken foot around his neck, read tarot cards, and ran cross-country. He rarely spoke and rarely showered. I was conviced that if the tarot cards told him to gut me in the middle of the night he would have happily turned my brainpan into a beret. "Chemistry" never left the room except to go to class. He also collected his empty pizza boxes (at least one Large Pizza Hut Pizza per day) which by mid-semester formed two columns floor to ceiling at the foot of his bed. Remember the astronomy thing? One day I get back from class and he's standing on a ladder in the middle of the room putting stickers (glow in the dark) on the ceiling. Me: "what the fuck?" Chemistry: "I'm putting a map of the solar system on the ceiling." I didn't think much of it until the lights were off . . . It was like living inside of a fucking glow stick. Soon after, he disappeared for a week and when he came back he informs us that his girlfriend (never mentioned previously) had a baby and that she AND the baby would be coming for OVERNIGHT visits every few weeks. I spent the rest of the semester on a friend's couch next to their piss/bongwater bucket. The choice was easy.
I had a room mate who was mostly cool, he was a musician so he traveled all the time and had a gaggle of girls following him around. His fatal flaw was remembering his house keys and since we lived on the top floor with a huge deck my window had easy access to get into the apartment. The only problem is that he would come home around 2:00am and knock on the window or if I didn't respond quick enough he would just start climbing in. This happened almost weekly until I suggested that rather than having two sets of keys, why not have your car keys AND your house keys on the same ring? A month of sleepytime bliss went by till he lost his car keys and was tapping on my window at 2:00am on a weekday. Yes, I did have an extra key made to stash outside somewhere but this only delayed the problem. He would use the stash key and then forget it somewhere in the house and go back to the tapitty-tap on my window. Its nearly as bad as some of the stories I've heard but it was annoying because I was the one who always had to deal with his key issues.
For my sophomore and junior year of college, I have had terrible luck with roommates. I ranted and raved about my current roommate here: To be clear, the kid was was a random, we did not choose him. The stupid fuck always tries to insert himself into our group. He is totally unfunny and just an awful person. It is still early in the semester, but I know this will end poorly. Kind of like what happened with my roommate last year. I live with girls this year, and lived with girls last year. Last year there were three guys in one suite and three girls in the other. One of the girls whom I didn't know prior to the living situation, Brianna, was awful. This is an incredibly long story, so I'll let this montage I made for my former suite mates sum it up. I'm sure some of you guys remember Xtranormal... She ended up getting taken away in the middle of the night by the cops and relocated to a single in an obscure part of campus. Good times.
Our residence at school was dorm style, so my first year was with three other gals. One was normal, if for the fact that she missed her boyfriend like crazy and would call him and spend 4+ hours a night crying on the phone. The slightly less normal one dropped out after her first midterm, moved to Salem with her cats and her boyfriend, and allegedly began practicing wicca with the intention of becoming some kind of priestess. The third was the one who collected roadkill, because she wanted to be an anthropologist - she would let them decompose in the yard and then glue the skeletons together. While neat, coming home to a dead squirrel on the kitchen table is never a fun time. Drop out girl was swiftly replaced by a girl who looked like she'd been dropped on her face from a great height at birth. All different shades of ugly. She claimed to be a porn star from Singapore with a 52 year old boyfriend in Germany. She bleached everything she owned and walked to class wearing a surgical mask. It was a long year.
What was it about the worst roommate I've ever had that made him so bad? Was it that he solicited hard narcotics from a woman who was pushing her child in a stroller down our street on a Wednesday afternoon? Or that he later purchased said narcotics from the same woman after she took him home to meet her "aunt"? Maybe it was because he became her "aunt"'s best customer after that initial meeting, a relationship that would contribute to mounting debt which, at its peak, totaled roughly $50,000 in student and private loans that rarely, if ever, actually paid for his education. Perhaps it was the fact that he ate food out of jars with his bare hands while smoking cigarettes at the same time (it is as disgusting a sight as it sounds). Or that he was prone to pissing in bottles he kept next to his bed during the night so he wouldn't have to use the toilet. Or that pill addiction he developed that would later cause him to black out and leave his car running, with the door wide open, in the middle of the town's busiest road for over four hours before a cop showed up at the house looking for him. Did he remember a single, solitary second of that incident? Don't be silly. Maybe it was the constant stream of strangers he would bring home with him, including, but not limited to a mentally disabled crossing guard, a Christian fundamentalist "intellectual", and an assortment of drug dealers. Most of those people would later go on to guest star on his weekly radio show. Yes, that's correct. The student-run radio station saw fit to give him an hour of airtime every Friday. "Did he just sit there and mumble?", you ask. No, he did not. He wrote email after email to local politicians, badgering them to come on his show. When they finally acquiesced, he would blindside them with absurd questions while they sat there, trapped in his Dungeon of Madness, wondering how they had been fooled by someone so obviously fucking insane. Was it that time that he ate an entire Chocolate Cream pie at Denny's, shoveling forkful after forkful into his mouth while his ringtone played Europe's "Final Countdown" over and again for the entire diner to hear? Or that he promptly vomited the entire pie into a steaming pile in front of the restaurant's main entrance as a group of EMTs were coming in to grab coffee? No. If I had to point to one instance, one single defining moment that made him the worst roommate I've ever had, it would have to be the time he walked downstairs, nonchalantly told our other roommates that his health insurance card was in his back pocket, went upstairs, and knocked back a handful of sleeping pills because he was pissed at his girlfriend. I'm told that dragging his puking ass to the car for the ride to the hospital was a lovely experience.
I consider myself fortunate as I had not one, but two spectacular doozies my freshman year at UMASS Amherst. For the first semester, I had Mike. A New York kid whose dad worked for WFAN, the major sports radio station in NYC. This, on the surface, was a terrific matchup as we would, get drunk, high and argue about baseball constantly. Everything though turned to the proverbial shit though about 3 weeks into the semester when we were both invited to rush a particular fraternity. He accepted, I declined. I rarely saw him after that, not because we no longer got along, but because with his pledge duties, the kid was never around. Now this wouldn't be an issue really, in fact at first it was great. I basically had a single and could do whatever I wanted. What made it a pain was that he started to come in at weird hours and just drop his clothes, and whatever food he had been munching on down on his bed and say he'd grab it after class. Problem was he would never come back. And I sure as shit wasn't cleaning up after him. This led to a pile of laundry so large, that it started to breed fucking spiders, and a funk that arose from the leftover food that I still haven't drowned out of my nose with endless lines of blow so many years later. Eventually, the frat accepted him and he moved into the house, which led to roommate #2: Raver Dork. Raver dork was a random assignee to my room, but I knew him casually as he was the security attendant at my dorm, which meant on weekends when the normal kids were out getting drunk and trying to pound sniz, this twat was harassing you about forgetting your student ID at 2 in the morning. He wore huge pants, weighed about 110 pounds and was all of 5'4". I would walk into my room to find him dancing to his shitty techno with a glow stick. At 4 in the afternoon. By himself. Sober. To this day I still hate that fucking kid just on general principal.
Not me, but my older brother. And I've had independent verification from his friends that the roommate was weird enough that the story is perfectly feasible. So my brother was in grad school at Guelph, and his apartment roommate was very, very strange. He never did anything wrong per se; it's not like he pissed on my brother's sheets. Just a few months of very bizarre behavior. One day, my brother comes home to the apartment, and opens the door. He sees the roommate sitting on the living room couch, with an open jar of strawberry jelly. The roommate turns to look at him....and has jam applied all over his face. Like in the picture below. But with strawberry jam. He looks at my brother. My brother looks at him. "Don't judge me!" My brother looked at him for a second, and then proceeded to his bedroom. Where he quickly began to pack up all of his things and move the fuck out.
My freshman year of college, I went to a shitty university located in East Texas. I am from California but my parents bought a house out there and weren't moving there until they retired. Basically, I picked a school to go to based on the fact I'd be living in a huge house by myself, giving me a leg up on every other freshman dude coming in. My parents didn't have the house ready to live in for the first semester so I had to go into on-campus apartments in the meantime. I moved into a four room, four person apartment with a living room and a kitchen. It was actually a pretty nice place, and you hafta love the Texas rent of $348 a month. We each had our own room, which was good. My roommates: B-Red: B-Red was a sophomore who was on our basketball team. He was the only roommate I actually liked. I felt bad for him for being assigned to a room with three freshman kids but he was a cool kid who always invited us whenever he was headed out somewhere. He was a bit of a boxing fan so we would watch ESPN Friday Night Fights when it came on. Had a hot as fuck girlfriend who would visit every other weekend and she cooked whenever she did. She was a year younger than him and he slept in the room next to me, so I could hear them going at it all the time and I remember having one conversation in the living room where she mentioned that she was a virgin. I laughed out loud because I thought she was joking, I mean I literally could not play my music loud enough to cover the noise. Later on, B-Red explained to me that she only took it in the butt and that she says that means she is still a virgin... Jay: Jay was a nice enough kid who was just quiet and stayed in his room all day and went to church. He would get worried all the time whenever the rest of us were involved in something that could lead to trouble. He was a good person to have around as a designated driver though. He was very protective of his food. Tony: The biggest douchebag piece of shit person I have ever personally met in my life. And I work in the boxing industry. To start, when we moved in he told the rest of us that he never drank in high school. The first night we went to a party, he tried telling us afterwards that he had 13 shots of whatever he was drinking. This kid, like me, weighed 150 pounds tops. I was not a very experienced drinker but I did my fair share in high school and I got fucked up pretty easily. There is no way this kid drank that many shots of anything without us having to take him to the hospital. He would also bring over the nastiest skanks on campus and take him into his room and bang them, then when they left he would brag about it. These "creatures" he would bring home were disgusting. One time I swear I saw one ooze out the bottom of his door. He also dipped, which is one thing. I don't give a shit what you do with yourself as long as it doesn't affect me. But this motherfucker would put paper towels at the bottom of the glasses I bought and spit into them. I was never going to fucking drink out of anything that had that shit at the bottom of it so I just gave up on claiming those at the end of the year and purchased red cups the rest of the year for myself. He would leave these cups all over the fucking place too. He never cleaned his dishes. He ate everyone's food. One time we were at a party and I got so fucked up I passed out and this cockgobbler came up and smacked me in the face as hard as he could. As soon as I jumped to my feet he was running full speed out the door and my roommate B-Red kept me from kicking the shit out of him. When he would take a shower in the morning at 7 am [my first class wasn't until 11], you could hear him loudly hock loogies [sp] in the shower. I felt bad that Jay had to share one with him. The only time I was ever really able to get the guy back was near the end of the year. I was on a tight budget and would do a Dominos 5-5-5 deal with a few other people. I would save leftovers in the fridge and Tony would always eat my shit. I used to always go jogging around campus because it had nice trails and the weather was really nice for it. One day, after a long jog in the heat, I slid my balls across each leftover piece of pizza and put them back in the fridge. I told my other two roommates what I had done and not to eat them. A few days later all the slices were gone. We would all talk about how good the pizza was for a few days after that. Then a few days before I moved out, I told him I had wiped my testicles across the pizza because they kept mysteriously disappearing and the fucker had the balls to hold his ground and say he didn't eat them. I was hoping he would swing at me.
My freshman roommate was picked based on the results of a Myers-Briggs style survey we had to fill out, so I guess I had it coming. He wasn't as bad as some of the other roommates-from-hell here. The biggest issue was that he rarely did laundry and piled up all his clothes in a ring around his bed. By the end of the year he had a pile of clothes about 3 feet high and 2 feet across. It was big enough that he managed to lose a 10 foot metal pole in there somehow. One day when we were at Home Depot for something or other he came across this pole and decided he had to have it. It vanished about 2-3 days after he got it and every so often he would tear the room apart trying to find it. This being a freshman dorm room there wasn't much in the way of hiding spaces. Why he never checked the laundry barrier he'd erected around his bed is beyond me, but sure enough once he disassembled it at the end of the year he found the pole about halfway through. Last I saw it he was trying to convince his parents to drive home with it strapped to the roof of their car (NC to FL). Not sure how that worked out.
My roommates were never that bad, some were lazy and didn't pay bills on time, maybe a little dirty, but I could live with it. Here though, is a story that should pretty much end the thread. No one can top this: http://community.livejournal.com/housem ... /1451.html
I just escaped from a horrible roommate situation. I moved in with two brothers into a three bedroom duplex with some pretty cool upstairs neighbors. By the 2nd month of living there the upstairs neighbors had moved out for a number of reasons, with myself to follow only a month later: -The two brothers would throw food off of our deck, leading to a large colony of raccoons nesting under our house - They had a large, untrained Rottie that bit every single person who came to our house, including our neighbors 3 year old son, who was bringing me cupcakes to say hello on my move in day. The dog bit my girlfriend in the face, as well as anyone who wasn't the two brothers - They would get drunk every night and pass out wherever they finished their last drink, and their dog would piss and shit in the house because I would be at work and they wouldn't wake up until four in the afternoon - NEVER cleaned anything, I stopped cleaning the community areas after a while to see just how bad they would get. Mold was growing everywhere when I moved out. - They never paid their rent on time, leading to our landlord pounding on the door at ungodly hours. Thankfully I was not on the lease - Roommate number two has a heinous girlfriend who Roommate number one would fight with, constantly. - Neither worked, would just sit around the house all day drinking beer and burning their garbage - They refused to put garbage in our garbage can (see above) and would just bag it and put it in random places around the house. The dog would go apeshit on these bags. I would come home and it would look like a garbage truck crashed into our house. - The police came on numerous occasions because they would be shirtless in the front yard beating the shit out of each other while the heinous girlfriend would be screaming bloody murder. - The upstairs neighbors moved out because of all the noise, and the smell. The last straw for them was when the brothers were shooting out glass bottles with a BB gun on the front yard where their son played. - I was searching for a new place to live after 3 weeks of being there, and only stayed because I had no other place to go. My last straw was when Dumbass #2 decided that the best way to dispose of his old mattress and wooden bed frame was to burn it. In July. In the field of dead grass next to our house. I have been couch surfing ever since. I could go on, but it is too painful. This wasn't in the boonies either, this was right outside of SF.
Wait... what? A 10 foot metal pole? Why? Was he gonna use it for something? There are way too many unanswered questions here. Focus: I used to rent a small house with two other guys. One time when I was out of town for the weekend, they decided to throw a party. No big deal, if I were there I would've joined them, but it was what happened later that pissed me off. We had an apple tree in the back yard, so naturally when the apples showed up, we picked them. All the apples were in two grocery bags in the kitchen. At the end of the night it was my roommates and two other guys still up drinking, when one of them got a bright idea. They started chucking apples up into the ceiling fan and watching them splatter all over the kitchen. This went on until they no longer had any pieces left that were big enough to throw into the fan. They even went as far as firing up my guitar amp and playing my guitar with an apple, as if the apple was a pick. When they were finished, do you think they cleaned up the mess? Fuck no, are you kidding me? They had to work in the morning! The following afternoon, I came home to find dried up, brown apple bits stuck to every surface in the entire kitchen, and everything had a sheen of sticky apple juice on it. It was even soaked into the texture on the ceiling. If they would've been there at that moment, I'm pretty sure a stabbing would've commenced, but luckily for them I had the rest of the day to cool off. I should've threw all their shit in the yard and lit it on fire, but I locked the doors instead and didn't let them in until they promised to clean it up. They still did a half-assed job of cleaning.
First year in the Navy, in the nice new barracks on NTC Great Lakes. I was in a five man room, and we were full. On one side was me and a good friend, on the other side, the three other dudes. Two of them were normal and cool. My buddy and I were both from MN, and we would drive home a lot on weekends. On the way back, we would often stop at a random porn shop on the highway in WI and buy lesbian porn. Looking back, I'm not sure why, but we often had movies like "Where the boys aren't 17" playing in the background of our day to day activities. Anyway. Roommate number five was... odd. He had been in the sea cadets in high school, which I'd never even heard of. He had every Star Trek book ever written, stacked up along the walls in his closet. Awful, awful dandruff, mostly due to the fact that he showered maybe once a week. When he did shower, he'd be in there for like 45 minutes, water running the whole time, and come out bone dry. I don't think he ever did laundry once. His sheets were fucking grey. So one day I come home from my duty for the day about an hour early. As I walk in, I see him on my side of the room, going to town on himself. I walk straight into the bathroom and kind of look at myself in the mirror bewildered. I can hear him put his belt back together. I walk back out, he's on his side of the room. I say, "That was pretty fucking awkward. Let's not ever do that again." He'd broken into my locked closet, and was jerking off to my porn, watching it on my buddy's tv, sitting bare assed in my buddy's chair. And seeing as how we were generally out of the room for the same two hours every day, I'm 100% sure this was a regular thing for him.
First year I lived in a complex of townhouses, which housed 5 of us. This was about half the size of a regular town house. Anyway, half way during the year, the kid who lived in the only ground level room had some sort of spinal chord injury from lacrosse, and obviously couldn't stay. In comes a loud, obnoxious Canadianized middle eastern kid who requested a transfer from his first house for being ridiculed so much. He recounted that he "puked blood because I was so stressed out living with those assholes". First clue. Anyway, suffice it to say, the whole court ended up hating him profusely, he followed people around to the bars, and was used for being the only kid with his own car. The worst, however, was on an almost daily basis, but ALWAYS after we had all been out the night before, the kid would pump house music and techo at 8 a.m., waking the whole house. He'd lock his door, and because it was so loud, he couldn't hear us yelling at him and (supposedly) pounding on his door. He'd also go into uncontrollable rage out crazy mode when he'd fight with his girlfriend, and would punch holes in the walls and doors. Around mid-November, we'd all had enough, sat him down, and told him if he didn't calm the fuck down and stop being an idiot, I would break into his room whether he was there or not and cut every god damned wire in there to get some peace and quiet. He left just before Christmas and (I assume) annoyed a whole new set of roommates.