Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Don't Trust The B****** In Apt 119

Everyone has a roommate from hell story and yet everyone is wrong. I shouldn't even be writing this blog. I shouldn't even be entertaining the idea of writing this blog. But it's been almost three years since I moved out of that apartment. And to top it off, both of the roommates I'm about to blog about deleted me from Facebook. It's like the universe wants me to blog about my time at apartment 119.

Before moving in
My friend Katie and I decided to live together. I would move into her five-bedroom apartment because all of her other roommates had moved out, graduated, joined the army, I don't remember the exact circumstances. So we told the leasing office we were open to random roommates. Why not. It was our last semester of college. We were down to party. Let's live it up, we thought.

Then we got a Facebook message from said random roommates. They were 19-year-old college sophomores. But not at the college we attended. The Christian college in town. And one of the girls informed us her boyfriend would be moving in come December. Thank goodness we would be graduated by then, we thought. But despite Katie and I being 22 years old and drunk most of the time, we were excited for this next adventure in our college lives. 19-year-old college sophomores. We remember being 19. It was one of my favorite years. We would go to frat parties again. They would look up to us. This would be like the Big Brothers Big Sisters program. We would mentor them.

If the little sisters in said Big Brothers Big Sisters program destroy the apartment and hate you, then yes, just like that.

Listen, they were nice girls. Well, besides the first day when we all got in a major fight. Katie and I walked into the apartment to find the remaining pieces from a war zone. Katie's furniture was still there from the semester before, but now it was broken. There were empty liquor bottles all over the place (they were 19). And to top it all of, there was caked-in dog shit all over the carpet. You could not walk anywhere without stepping on dog shit.

Hell broke loose. There was yelling and screaming and fighting and cussing. We all had to separate and collect our thoughts. That night, we had a come-to-Jesus meeting at the broken kitchen table. We agreed to move on, live together, and make it through the semester as best we could. Only four months. Roughly.

The living
Oh, we lived there. Well I didn't really. I mainly slept there. I went to school and work from pretty much 9 a.m. to 11 p.m. each day so there was no hanging around the apartment. And it was my last semester of college so I didn't even properly move in. (I have a very bad habit of not making myself at home when I know I'm just going to leave. This can be applied to almost any part of my life.) So I slept on a mattress on the ground. I had zero decorations on my walls. And I fell asleep to my 13-inch TV every night playing Investigation Discovery.

my actual living situation.

The roommates lived lived there, however. And I mean who could blame them. It was their apartment. And don't get me wrong. I am a messy person. My little humble corner of the apartment was filthy. But these ladies put my mess to shame.

The partying
The roommates were messy and loud and unapologetic. They one time threw a party the night before Katie's exam to get into nursing school. At about midnight, Katie went downstairs and yelled at a bunch of underage co-eds to get out of her apartment like the 45-year-old mother that she is. They yelled back and asked for one more hour. She said no.

One time Katie and I came home to find two 19-year-old girls in their natural habitat. Cleaning in their Victoria's Secret matching bras and panties set while jamming out to rap music. It was like a bad Girls Gone Wild video shoot. It was also the last time they cleaned.


Our apartment during that semester looked like an actual animal pound. And not a chic adoption agency animal pound. Like an animal pound where you don't know where half the animals came from, there was shit anywhere and everywhere, and you just hoped and prayed one of the many animals hadn't given birth in a corner that you forgot about.

Let's try to remember all the animals, shall we.

Baby Dex- Katie's dog. Angel dog.
Bug- Bug shit everywhere and was mean and would bite you. He was still a puppy.
A cat I named Kingsbury- I never knew this kitten's name but it just showed up in our apartment one day, so I assume it belonged to our roommates. Never knew its name. Never knew its gender. Didn't bother to ask anyone. I named the kitten Kingsbury. I also never actually saw this kitten eat. It would meow and paw outside my door at night.
Puppy German shepherd- This dog was a female and had an exotic name that I can't remember. Cute dog. Not potty trained.
Another dog- Can't even remember but I know another one appeared.

At one point one of the dogs got fleas and we had to flea bomb our bedrooms. Katie had to send Baby Dex back to Plano like the orphan he is. Sad face.

The animals weren't the only houseguests. A couple that lived across the patch of grass were regular houseguests as well. The guy had just gotten home from war (literally I think) and his brother had just died in combat if I remember correctly. Well, he was now living with his girlfriend. Neither went to school and only the girlfriend had a job. With all their free time, they were regularly at our apartment. Sometimes without our roommates even being there.

The drama
Just because you are a couple and you live together doesn't mean the roommates won't pounce. Katie likes to tell a story of coming home to one of the roommates and Army Boy in her bedroom and Army Boy's girlfriend pounding on the door and them not answering. LOL.


Remember earlier in this blog when I mentioned one of the girls' boyfriends was coming to live with her in December? Well that got moved to October and he brought friends. Three tall blonde Sound of Music-looking friends. They were all from another country, but I don't remember which. They stayed for two weeks, but I have no idea where they slept. I never asked. Then that couple broke up. Then she started dating another guy.

Then they broke up and she started seeing someone new.

Then she got engaged.

Now she's married. And I think expecting a child who she hopefully potty trains.

The other roommate was dating a military guy long distance but cheated on him every weekend (sometimes with the neighbor, sometimes without the neighbor) and we were all reminded 19 is hard. One day I came home to find her crying because he had cheated on her and once again, I was reminded 19 is v hard. I didn't offer to console her, but I looked on. Then that couple got engaged after they both cheated on each other and now I have no idea what she's up to.

Christian schooling
I love anybody who goes to a school with Christian or Baptist or Methodist in the title because then I can only assume they have a drug problem. Well one morning I was home and one of the girls comes in. She is dressed like she spent all night at Rowdy Raider having the time of her actual life and I was like lol 19 is hard. Then she tells me she went to school that morning but got sent home because of her outfit. She was wearing a bodycon dress, high heels, and had a smokey eye makeup look. It was incredible.

Then we found out somehow that the other girl got suspended from school for smoking pot. Incredible.

Smoking pot
Yeah, pot. 19 is hard. When they weren't playing beer pong on the broken kitchen table, they were smoking pot in our apartment, sometimes with the windows down, sometimes without the windows down.

Partying together
Katie tells me one time we threw a party with them but I have no memory of this.

We eventually moved out. The apartment was destroyed. We survived living as a 19-year-old twice in our lives. We can do anything now.

Everyone tweet/FB me their horrible roommate stories and if they're good enough, I'll put together an entire post about it. Thanks and bye.

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