Most of us have had a few roommates in our day. It's part of growing up. For some reason, I feel the need to get down on paper my feelings about the particular painful ones. Here is a list of my worst roommates, listed in chronological order:
1. Daniel
Daniel was my first roommate that I didn't know beforehand. It was the semester after my mission. I moved into Moon Apartments at the B3, which was famous because a Hansen had lived there since the Ute Indians built the complex in 515 A.D. The nice part about Moon was that it had furniture from the original construction, which added to its character. I did 1.5 years there, which was about 2 years too many.
Anyway, Daniel was a nice, well-dressed guy who liked to talk about girls and how much he hated Utah. He was from the backwoods of Virginny, where they fashion pants out of tree bark and haul water out of the crick. He served his mission in Peru, and had a soft spot for Latinas. He played the guitar and was the lead singer of our band, "The Man in the Yellow Hat".
What made Daniel obnoxious was that he acted like- as my high-school buddy Dan put it- a "teenie-bopper". He wore hemp necklaces and dressed like a preppie. He laughed at sophomoric jokes with a little too much zeal and overlaughed in general at the stupidest things. He lacked a lot of basic common sense and wasn't considerate in the least. One of his favorite things to do was to belch. His belch wasn't an accidental burp like the dainty ones Mel releases after a sip of Caffeine Free Diet Doctor Pepper, these were intentional, spirit-breaking belches.
The absolute worst was his morning routine. He had classes at 8, and I didn't have class until 10, therefore, I was always asleep when he woke up. First of all, he was one of these guys that had to hit snooze several times before actually getting up. Secondly, he let out a floor-rattling belch as he got out of bed, when most people would simply yawn. Thirdly, he would open and close the bedroom door as if nobody in the entire world was asleep. Fourthly, he wouldn't bring his things into the shower with him, which means he's doing all of his dressing and grooming in the room, not even trying to be quiet in the least. Fifthly, he wouldn't keep his deodorant/cologne/hair gel/who-knows-what-else out on his shelf or on top of the dresser, they were all haphazardly placed in his top drawer. It always sounded like he was opening and closing a drawer full of billiard balls and shuffling through them. Sounds are always 20 times louder when you're trying to stay asleep. Last of all, there are loud belches, at least 5 of them, scattered throughout this whole process. I could even hear him belching in the shower, through 2 doors and a pillow pressed against my ear. It was with Daniel that I perfected the Pillow Muffle, which is the art of muffling all noises with your pillow, while still staying comfortable and ideally asleep.
Daniel had some redeeming qualities, too. I'm sure of it.
2. Alex at B3
Alex actually wasn't that bad of a roommate at all, and I actually barely even remember him. My brother Brian is encouraged to leave a lengthy comment on Alex, as I only have one complaint: When he cooked a meal, which was usually for 1, possibly 2, people, he dirtied EVERY SINGLE DISH IN THE ENTIRE APARTMENT COMPLEX. It was uncanny! Spaghetti and Meatballs? 30 dirty dishes! Chicken Parmesan? 45 dirty dishes! PB&J? 1,734 dirty dishes!
3. Radiohead
Ah, Radiohead. So named because of the size of his noggin, clumped together with his similarities to Radio, played so affably by Cuba Gooding, Jr., in the movie of the same name. Radiohead was not aware of this nickname.
Radiohead moved into a tough situation. Sam, Jason, and I were dominating the Enclave at the time. We were in our prime - Juniors, nice tans from a summer at the pool, long enough at the Enclave to know who was cool and who wasn't, but not too long where we'd worn out our welcome (although I was doing my best to wear it out and that right soon). We'd been the only 3 dudes in a 4 bedroom apartment, so we were nervous about the 4th roommate. In fact, the annoying EQ president from a couple doors down had enquired about our spot. We had the gall (such jerks, us!) to give him "the talk", which was that we didn't want him to even think about signing the lease for the 4th spot. This coming from the same dudes who avoided "the talk" with any girl we were dating.
We naively thought that nobody would move in. But, alas, we came home one day and there was a scent, nay, stench in the air. Somebody's stuff was in the 4th room. We considered tossing the stuff out the door to send a message. Cooler heads prevailed.
It took a few days, but we eventually met him. He was about 5'9", stocky, and hairy as the day is long. This guy looked, walked, and smelled like a gorilla. We didn't notice the smell at first, but then after a few weeks we started to see clouds of green stench escaping through the cracks of his bedroom door. He never, ever, left his door open, so we were started to wonder how many crates of spoiled eggs and raw breasts of chicken he was keeping to create the stench. So we pulled our shirts over our noses and broke into his room. It was for the best.
Immediately, it was clear: these shirts weren't near enough protection. Sam donned a gas mask he bought from the Army Navy Surplus, and went inside, reporting to us through a hose like a deep sea diver. 1 pull meant more slack and 2 pulls meant to bring him back. He was in there for the better part of a minute, and we were sure we'd lost him. Jason was all but moving his stuff into Sam's room when Sam tugged sharply twice. Using all of our strength, we barely managed to get him out of there alive. We were expecting tales of dead bodies, dog excrement, or rotting brains, but instead we got:
"Nothing. There's nothing in there!"
It was true. Just heaps of clothes, books, and other miscellaneous stuff you'd find in a typical college guy's room. How could ordinary stuff smell so bad? He even had a scented candle in there to try and mask the odor. It just made it worse, like cherry BO.
The one redeeming thing about Radiohead was that he had 15 bottles of cologne. I'm not kidding. Sure, I made up a few things in the past few paragraphs, but he really did have around 15 bottles of cologne. I shared a bathroom with him, and he just left them all right there on the sink. There was barely enough room for my toothbrush and toothpaste. We'd all use a few samples of his cologne now and again, but the worst abuser of Radiohead's cologne was Sam. I think he even just stole a couple of the bottles outright. Don't try to deny it, Sam.
That year, Jason and I were on an intramural team. We were in the living room trying to create a dream team of guys that weren't so good that would make us look bad, but not so bad as to make us look REALLY bad. We wanted to have 7 players, but only came up with 6. Then Radiohead came in. Sam asked with a plotting smile if Radiohead liked to play basketball. The reply: "Why, yes, I love basketball!" Then Sam, his evil smile cornering up in his cheeks like the Grinch, said, "Kent and Jason need 1 more player, you should play on their team!" Of course, we had no other option but to allow him on our team. We'd kill Sam later.
However, it didn't turn out to be so bad. Radiohead was a hustler, knew his place, played good D, and got a few rebounds. When he turned his ankle in the tournament, we found that we actually missed him. We made the Final 4 that year, but lost badly to a team of 10 players. We only had 6 players, and had played 6 games in 6 days.
The best Radiohead story was the Donut Incident. Every Monday, Jason, Sam, and I would go to Macey's for our weekly grocery shopping. We'd buy the same crap every college dude buys: frozen burrito's, candy, milk, cookies, and, if we were feeling rich, hamburger helper. I also would treat myself to a few fresh donuts from the bakery, as Macey's donuts are delicious. We went home, and I left my remaining donuts on the table, leaving them for the next day.
The next morning, the donuts were gone. I asked Sam and Jason if they ate my donuts, but they didn't. I didn't believe them at first, but they swore on their future wives' future graves, so I had to. I just couldn't imagine why Radiohead would just take my donuts without asking. When Radiohead got home, I asked him if he saw some donuts on the table, and he said he did, and ate them, because, he said, "It didn't look like anybody was going to eat them." I told him they were my donuts, and I was planning on eating them the next day.
Fast forward a few days. I come home and Radiohead approaches me with a box of Krispy Kreme donuts. He told me the donuts were for me, and that he was sorry for taking my donuts. Apology accepted! I put the donuts down on the table and went to bed, dreaming of eating donuts the next morning for breakfast.
You know the rest. The next morning, the donuts were gone. I asked Jason and Sam if they stole them. They had to swear on their future children's future graves to get me to believe that they hadn't eaten my donuts. I mean, it had to be them, right? Why would Radiohead get me donuts to make up for the stolen donuts, and then eat them again? When I asked Radiohead if he knew what happened to his gift donuts, he confessed that "it didn't look like you wanted them" and had eaten them. Classic Radiohead!
Once, we were just chilling in the living room, watching the tube, when Radiohead came home and parked himself on the loveseat. Within minutes the whole room started to smell foul, like the inside of a hobo's kneebrace. We started to blame each other for the stench, thinking that someone had cut the cheese, but the smell did NOT go away. When Sam had enough of the odor, he walked out of the room, passing near to Radiohead. When he was out of Radiohead's view, he waved to us, pointed to Radiohead's feet, and plugged his nose. It turned out that Radiohead had kicked off his shoes when he sat down, and the smell fouled up the whole room. Now we knew the reason for his smelly bedroom.
I always felt sorry for Radiohead, but couldn't stomach his stench long enough to do anything about it. You can judge all you want, but I don't think you would've done any more than we did.
4. Matt
When I moved into the hole in Somerville (just outside Boston) in November of aught-5, I moved in with a former roommate, Lane, and a new guy, Matt. Both were Mormons. Because Mormons liked to live with other Mormons in the singles scene in Boston, the places were usually dumps. Plus, most of the places in the city were 200-years old and dumpy anyway. But they had lots of character!
Matt was a super nice guy. But he was really effeminate and weird, and just awkward in general. Matt wasn't a bad roommate, per se, he was clean, organized, and didn't smell weird. But he always wanted to be involved, and talk and stuff. I liked my privacy and my peace and quiet. I'd be watching a football game and Matt would come in and sit down and try to talk football with me. You know those conversations with people who don't really know much about sports? It was like that. Someone would make a nice play, and he'd say "Great action!" or something weird like that. He didn't really understand the concept of downs and yards to go, and it was just annoying. "Go team! Make a goal unit!"
The funny thing was that I didn't mind when Lane watched football with me, but Matt just made it awkward. Once, he bought cheese dip and tortillas to watch "the big game" with us. He then would make comments like, "Yup, just sitting here, watching the game with my boys." Who SAYS that? It must have been the first and only time he was doing that, and he was fulfilling a lifelong dream.
You readers are probably judging me and saying things like "C'mon, Kent, he was just trying to be nice." Which is true. But when you have to live with a dude and he's ALWAYS trying to establish some sort of relationship with you, it starts to wear on you. If he talked to me about stuff that he knew about, like music, which he did at times, then I wouldn't find it annoying.
The absolute worst thing about Matt was that he came into the bathroom while I was in the shower. Our bathroom door didn't even close all the way, so there was no way I could lock him out. But almost every morning, he'd come in and do his hair while I was showering. It wouldn't have been so bad if he would've just did it and got out, but he liked to try to have conversations with me. I'm not much for talking in the morning, and I certainly didn't want to talk to my effeminate, annoying roommate through the shower curtain. This drove me absolutely bonkers.
Matt had a huge crush on our Bishop. He'd come home from church and just talk about him for hours. Matt just loved church in general. Once I came home from church, and he was already at home, watching General Conference DVDs on the couch. "Can't get enough church?" I'd snicker, and then go to my room, wondering if I was a bad person for not watching it with him. I concluded that I wasn't, but my snide remarks were certainly not helping. On the flip side, his spirituality was getting in the way of my football viewing!
Another time, I missed church because I was super tired and slept in. When Matt came home from church, I was on the couch playing Civilization IV, which he himself played. He then sent me an email about a Civilization Addiction group that I could get involved with. I'm not gonna lie, it was nice that he cared.
Matt also had a huge crush on Lane, similar to George Constanza and tough guy Tony. He went everywhere with Lane, made meals for him, etc. One Saturday in late October, I came home in the evening and Lane and Matt greeted me in the doorway. Matt asked me in a super-excited tone if I wanted to hang out with them that night. I asked what they were doing, and Lane shrugged his shoulders. Then, Matt suggested giddily, "We could go skinny-dipping in Walden Pond!" Lane rolled his eyes, and Matt whined, "Well, we gotta do SOMETHING!" Skinny-dipping with my effeminate roommate did not sound like a good time, so I said I was tired and went to my room. Poor Lane.
All in all, Matt is a great guy and genuinely cared about me, which is saying something because I pretty much ignored him. He moved out of our place that summer and into a pad in Cambridge with 3 other like-minded Mormons, and I'm sure he loved it. I thought I might get a cool replacement. Nope.
5. Christian
Christian was a former tight end for George Washington University. He was a big guy, super nice, and super old. And by super old, I mean 31, which, in Mormon Single Years, is practically dead (no offense, Brian!). He moved into our Somerville apartment for my second year, and I was relieved to not have to live with Matt anymore. Be careful what you wish for.
Christian was much worse than Matt. He was a complete slob. He filled up the freezer with his frozen foods, and then filled up the garbage can with the packaging from the frozen foods. He never did his dishes, never took out the trash, never did any cleaning of the communal areas, like the bathroom or the kitchen. I can't tell you how gross our bathroom was.
After a few months of taking out the trash every week, which was mostly full of his crap, I asked him to take out the trash. Which he did, right away. Then the next weeks I and our other roommate, Chris, took out the trash. It was then his turn again, so I decided to see if he would do it without me asking him. I wanted to see how overflowing the trash would get. That was a bad idea. Christian called my bluff and completely ignored the fact that it was heaping over. He started putting boxes next to the trash to put his garbage in it. I finally gave in and took out the trash. From then on, I just asked him to do it every few weeks, like I was his mother. If you remember back to your roommate days, asking a roommate who you barely talk with to do anything in the way of chores is extremely awkward. I hated doing it, so after a while, I just took out the trash for him.
Christian set his alarm for early in the AM, like 6 or something. He hit the snooze a few times, which didn't bother me because I was in the other room. What bothered me was that he would hit snooze and jump in the shower, or hit snooze and leave altogether. That resulted in me spending 10 minutes trying to sleep through the sound of an alarm in the next room, and then finally getting up to turn it off. I debated chucking the clock out the window.
Christian found out that we played basketball at the church every week, so he decided to come join us. He was really good and really big. About 6'4 and 225 pounds, he was much bigger than us regular-sized chumps. Sometimes I would have to guard him, and the guy would play NBA-style against me, using his body to dominate me and back me down in the post. I would employ the hack-a-Shaq defense and just foul him as hard as I could. He'd get so mad at me, once he even threw the ball at me. I didn't particularly blame him, because I was fouling him pretty badly. However, what am I supposed to do? Let him score every time? Anytime I have a much smaller guy defending me, I don't go straight to the post and push him around. There are unwritten rules of pick-up basketball, and one of them is that you don't push around the smaller guys. You also don't swat the shots of the 12-year olds that you need to get enough people. You also don't draw charges, And you need to shoot lots of threes.
6. The Dude (can't remember his name)
Both Christian and Chris sublet their rooms for the summer, starting in late May. I got married on June 21, so I only lived with this guy for 3 weeks, but it was enough to make it into my worst roommate list. The guy kept to himself, kept the place clean, and was pretty much ideal except for 1 very large problem: he smoked pot. All the time. He tried to keep it in his room, but it pretty much made the whole apartment smell. I didn't have to deal with it for very long, but it made every minute in the apartment a whole lot worse.
When the subletters moved out of the place at the end of the summer, I had to go back and clean the entire place. I asked for 75 bucks a piece from Chris and Christian to do the cleaning. I would've hired a cleaning service, but they don't remove junk. I ended up moving 15 bags of trash out of that place, and worked all day on it. And then I went home and told Melanie how glad that she was my roommate now. We've lived together for almost 4 years now, and she hasn't annoyed me once!
