We're All Men Here

This morning Roommate and I had matching schedules, so we both got up at 7:30...ish. My acting teacher has demanded we wear sweatpants and loose fitting shirts to class so we can stretch properly.

Harsh.

In effect, he gave me a license that ensures I will never get dressed for school ever again.

I do keep at least decent hygene, so certain...aspects...of my garb did need changing. Roommate was also getting ready for the day, and just so happened to turn around as I was entering a lewd state.







               [pictured: what must have looked like my lewd state]
 



He quickly turned around and apologized, and I thought, "Why did you apologize? You should be thanking me!"


Roommate, we both live in this small (albeit bigger than everyone else's) room. We are going to see each other naked every once in a while. If we don't it means one of us isn't sleeping there or is invisible.







                   [Oh hi, Roommate! When did you get back? And why are you naked?]





But I suppose I need to thank Roommate for being a gracious, friendly person... unlike my previous one. We'll call him Jackhole.

The tale begins with a simple question, asked on the first day of staying in the dorms.

"Hey, do you, like, drink and stuff"

I responded with no, and Jackhole assured me that while he did indulge in the activities common to partying, he wouldn't let it affect me or the room.

Guess whaaaaaaatttt.

Fresh from summer vacation, my sleeping patterns were not as established as they could have been. But four in the morning is not even a real time. If I ever see the number 4 in the first spot on a digital clock, WE HAVE A PROBLEM. I was awoken by furious pounding. I slugged out of bed, oozed to the door, and opened it. There he was, in all his drunken stupor. He left his wallet and phone in some random kid's car. This would set the tone for the semester.

After what must have been 15 different whores girlfriends, many keyless and ths sleeples nights, and not paying for 3 months worth of room, he finally got his ass evicted. He left all ALL his crap in the room. For about a month, I was living the easy, no roommate life.

I came home one day and only most of his belongings were gone. Thankfully, he left boxes and boxes of trash and plastic bags lying around. How thoughtful. Glad to be rid of him, I searched for my cologne to freshen up before meeting friends for dinner.

Guess whaaaaaaatttt.



     [Not Pictured: Something that belongs to him]



My nice, $70 cologne my sister bought me for Christmas was gone. Stolen. It was a mostly full bottle. A MOSTLY FULL BOTTLE. I was not that terrible of a roommate to him that he had to leave like that. It was if he was saying,

"Haha bitch, now you can't be elegant!"


And it's true. I can't. Without my cologne, I feel like this:





                          [Pictured: the epitome of elegance]



I guess that's maybe something I should have seen coming from a convicted shoplifter. Jackhole.

Here's to a new semester, Roommate. I hope this semester brings good things for both of us, and that you don't find this blog. Ever. I will talk about you. Frequently.