People Mention Their Oddball Roomie Stories
19. Old Lady Roommate Has A Mental Breakdown
“I swear, if I encapsulated everything that has happened with my roommate, this would be a novel. But here’s the story so far: I have three roommates, for ease of story let’s establish that they’re myself (30sF), N (30sM), J (30sF), and H (60sF), and we all rent out from a landlord. Straight up H has always been strange, and has had a couple of health issues and emergencies but has otherwise been okay.
Then in August, she started having really bad “episodes” where she would be confused, moaning, wandering the house without clothes on, etc. She’s been in and out of the hospital several times, and her main point person has been her daughter A (20s or 30s), who generally okay with being in communication with us.
For the sake of expediency, here is a short list of some important details leading up to this past weekend:
1) She is bipolar and probably schizophrenic (she’s told me she is) and had to change her medications recently, which is what she and her daughter have been blaming her behavior on- and that she also drinks while on these medications.
2) I have had a number of difficult conversations with her where I have expressed my concerns about her, and in each conversation, she has said that she’s perfectly fine now and then gets hospitalized again within a week or two.
3) Just after Thanksgiving, I heard a scream and a crash, and I found her in her room without clothes, face down, and struggling to breathe.
Had I not been there, she likely would have died. Since that hospitalization (which was the fourth or fifth since August. Honestly, they all start to blend together), she hasn’t seemed to recover since. She was hospitalized again for some type of manic break and then was released again because “they said I was too sane.”
4) Besides having a number of welfare checks and EMT visits, I also brought up the situation with our landlord as an issue of liability (when she’s in these episodes, she loves to try to cook and turns on all the cooking appliances in her confusion, amongst other activities that bring some damage risk), and I have also made a report with APS.
This weekend, she really went off her rocker, and it was unreasonably difficult to get her help.
As I said, she has been in and out of the hospital and has still been not okay for a while, so she just nosedived from there. She was starting to talk more nonsensically and to herself more often, and then Saturday/Sunday night at 2:30, she is in the kitchen banging away at pots and pans and talking to herself in a stream of consciousness blur.
I contact her daughter A, and she says a mutual friend will come over to try to take her to the hospital. This family friend fails in her task, and in getting to overhear their conversation in the kitchen, she tells this friend a ton of lies, including lies about me and how I’m doing all these things against her. Then A calls for a welfare check and the cops come by, talk to her a little, then leave.
It gets worse, we call again, the police come again, talk to her a little, then leave again.
Then Sunday/Monday night, 3:30 am, she’s banging away in the kitchen again, manically cleaning and talking to herself. We’re all sleep-deprived at pushed at this point, and we all go out at different points to try to get her to go back in her room and let us sleep, but she just keeps talking to herself and making noise.
J told her she was freaking crazy, and she just said, “I’m freaking crazy…” I contact her daughter several more times, and J calls A, and purportedly A cries to her and says, “I don’t know what to do” and just tells us to keep calling 911. So we call 911 again, and this time, four cops come over, which is four more cops then I ever want in my house, but they don’t take her because she “doesn’t fit the criteria,” though they do tell me that she shouldn’t be living here and that her daughter should get a conservatorship.
They leave, and I text A what they told me, but she never responds. I email our landlord and tell him what’s happening, and J calls him.
H continues to decline, and she continues to keep the house awake. She wanders the hallways, talking to herself loudly and performing all sorts of compulsive actions, telling the person in her head all the horrible things I do to annoy her (like keeping my own toiletries in my own bathroom), and, as I found out later, trying to open the door to J’s room (we have been locking our doors at night in fear of this).
I text her daughter throughout the morning without response. At one point, I call her and her kids are crying in the background, so she asks if she can call me back later. She never does. J leaves for work, and N holes up in his room trying to work. I dedicate myself to trying to contact her daughter or the mental health crisis line, neither of which can be reached.
After freaking 10, N grabs me from my room and shows me that H is washing a remote control in the sink and that she’s grabbed pretty much everything that isn’t nailed down or in a cabinet, washing it, and throwing it away. She keeps talking stream of consciousness, accuses us of taking photos of her and searching stuff about her on our phones, and tries to put a metal tray in the microwave.
I call 911 again, really stress the whole accusing us of spying on her and the nearly setting the house on fire thing, and two more cops come to the house, which is an additional two more cops than I’d rather have in my home.
Here are some of the highlights from the last set of cops trying to interview H:
1) First of all, the cops asking me to call her daughter several times and getting to hear her send me straight to voicemail every single time.
2) Me telling her that someone was here to see her and her telling me that she can’t figure out how to turn around
3) The cop asking her if she tried to put metal in the microwave, and she said, “J did that at midnight last night and forgot about it. Isn’t that such a crazy thing to do? She’s a nurse!”
4) Her crazy ranting leading to them seriously thinking she had a dead body in her room for a hot second.
5) Her prattling on about all the things she has in her room, including her waterbed, and then saying, “and on the right hand side of my waterbed, I keep my drinks there because BewBewsBoutique said she was worried about my drinking, and I said that I wouldn’t drink as much, but she said that I shouldn’t be drinking anyway on my medication, so I keep my drinks on that side of my bed, so she doesn’t see it.”
6) Her telling the cops how much I drive her crazy as they took her away and how proud I am of myself for not saying, “Same, witch” whilst on bodycam
I got in contact with our landlord, who also feels she should not be living here while she’s so unstable and hazardous, and he thinks she should be in a long term placement, but he needs to get in contact with A, who is dodging calls from all of us.
It’s now been three days, so any 5150 hold should be up, and we don’t know if she’s been admitted or if she’s coming back.
We haven’t heard anything from anyone, so no one knows what’s happening. I have tried so many angles to help this woman, and all it’s done has made me the primary target of her paranoia. I don’t know what else to do.
My worst-case scenario plan is the three of us all pool together to find a three-bedroom place and all move out, but that just messes things for our landlord, who is a good person who lost his job, and having to replace three renters is enough, but he’d have to pay us all back our not-unsubstantial deposits all at the same time.
It does nothing to solve the problem with H and leaves our landlord with a single crazy tenant and sticks three new poor suckers in the middle of that situation.
And moving out isn’t really an expense I can bear right now.
Turned into a novel anyway. Oh well, I’m mostly just yelling into the void anyway. There’s so little I can do about H- I’ve tried the landlord, APS, her daughter, the cops.
Someone needs to take responsibility for this woman because she’s a hazard. Her daughter infuriates me the most- she’s known that her mom hasn’t been okay for months, and she’s just stuck her head in the sand and leaves us hanging. I understand if she doesn’t want to be responsible for her crazy mom, but someone has to because she can’t be responsible for herself. I’m done with this witch and that witch too.”
18. She Leaves Her Female "Waste" Everywhere
“I’m a girl. I live with 2 other girls in a shared three-bedroom apartment. We’re all grad students and have single rooms. One lucky girl has her own bathroom. I share the second bathroom with the other – I’ll call her GAB for gross-and-bloody.
Sooooo GAB is disgusting and messy and steals people’s things.
She continuously uses my face wash – the first time, I was purposefully nice about it and said, “Hey, it’s ok, but I really am not ok with you using my products, so please don’t do it again.” One week later, GAB blatantly has moved my facewash from the sink to the shower.
Because she is a hermit and ignores any attempt to talk to her, I text messaged her. She ignored it (but read it).
She steals/keeps hostage my other roommates dishes and utensils, leaving the poor girl with nothing to use. She steals both of our foods.
Now, talking to this girl is impossible because she’s basically an f-ing hermit. She has zero friends and never leaves her room.
If you knock on her door, she opens it about 3 inches to stick her face through. Behind her, you can see old food and dirty plates mixed with clothing and other crap all over the floor and her mattress. My policy with roommates is – your room, none of my business. As long as it stays in your room, do whatever the heck you want in there.
But, that brings up the main reason I’m posting…..
SHE IS DISGUSTING.
Warning folks: the following includes bodily fluids in places they don’t belong.
Which bodily fluids you ask? Why, period blood.
And where? EVERY FREAKING WHERE. All over the toilet.
Oh and used pads. With PUBES. On the counter right where I put my clean clothes for after showering.
First time with the blood, I talked to her kindly but firmly.
The second time (the infamous PAD incident of 2018), I may have freaked out and text messaged her and our third roommate. I included a photo (while apologizing to my other normal person roommate for the graphic grossness that will forever be burned into her retinas) and basically said, “I don’t care whose this is, but it’s disgusting, and I expect you to clean it up.”
Well, let’s flash forward to this weekend.
My mom is visiting from way out of town. I cleaned the entire apartment including our bathroom because GAB is gross in general. Oh, and surprise: GAB has her period! Right before breakfast, my mom comes into my room and is like, “Um, why is there urine and tons of blood sitting in the toilet?” My mom tells me she cleaned the toilet. NOT okay.
My mom and I go out for the day.
We come back home quickly before leaving to go eat dinner. BAM!!! Look at the disgusting blood right there all over the toilet seat, which my mom cleaned this morning. This time, I locked my mom out of the bathroom and cleaned it myself.
Our apartment is having a meeting tomorrow to discuss things. My other roommate and I want to bring up our concerns as for the group in general and not single her out.
We will have a roommate contract that everyone signs.
GAB is an international student, and when I talked to her (nicely) the first time about the blood thing, she basically tried to write it off as, “Oh, I am Chinese; this is normal to me,” which, sorry, is BS. I have lived with multiple other Chinese roommates and they have all been friendly, respectful, and CLEAN. Heck, I felt like a slob and had to clean up after myself better while living with them.
Those girls became close friends of mine, and I find it inexcusable that GAB is basically blaming her entire home country for what is purely her own individual disgusting life habits.
But after today, I am livid. And I’m thinking of sending good old GAB the following, as a text message, this morning before our group meeting:
I did not want to bring this up yesterday when my mom was still here, but I want to make you aware that you left blood in the toilet TWICE yesterday.
The first time, my mom found it along with unflushed urine.
She asked me (and I had just woken up, not used the toilet, and am also not in my period). My mom also CLEANED the ENTIRE toilet – the whole thing.
We went out for the day and came back home. Before leaving for dinner, I used the bathroom and was shocked to find blood on the toilet seat.
This is after my mom, visiting and a guest, already cleaned your mess once.
This time I cleaned it up.
We are meeting tonight at 9 PM, and I would like all 3 of us roommates to discuss what is and is not ok.
I think that I was quite clear before, but in case I was not:
Blood is NOT ok. You may not know that you have a blood-borne disease even if you are carrying it.
Many bacteria live up to 7 days in dry blood.
Any contact with someone else’s blood is DANGEROUS. Blood should be cleaned off with a wet wipe – there are a box of them right on the toilet itself.
In addition, it is NOT my job or my mom’s job while a guest here to clean up your bodily fluids. YOU ARE AN ADULT – please behave like one and check after yourself. Flush the toilet – nobody wants to see your urine.
Clean up your own bloody messes. I am not your cleaning lady. My mom is not your cleaning lady.
If you have any concerns for me, we can talk more at 9 PM tonight.”
17. His Horrible Money Habits Is The Reason We Got Evicted
“This happened in the spring of 2010. I was working in a call center and living with my parents. For background, I’m Trans (MtF), but at the time this took place, I hadn’t realized it yet and was living as a male. I was looking for a place to live as I thought being 22 and living with my parents was both lame and sad, but it was difficult as we weren’t paid very well at my job.
A condition of mine, at the time, untreated depression, was shopping for pointless stuff to make me feel better, so I had no savings to speak of. What’s more, due to the undiscovered gender stuff, I was having thoughts of ending my life, so I did anything I could do to try and improve my life to try and fight this.
That’s enough backstory, enter RFH.
A coworker, I’ll call him Rick, was being kicked out of his grandma’s trailer and needed a place.
That should have been the first red flag, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt because maybe his grandma was a witch. We moved into a place close to work, and everything seemed fine for a month or so. I’m really bad with expenses due to my depression-controlled spending, so I gave him half of the rent each month. There was barely enough to eat afterward, but I was surviving.
He started doing really irresponsible crap. He opened up a line of credit at a bank and bought a huge tv, digital cable, game consoles, etc. I thought, it’s your life to screw up; why do I care? Then there was his kid. He had a two-year-old (he was 20) with his ex, and she’d bring the kid over once in a while. That was fine, but Rick and her would fight loudly, makeup, ‘passionately hug,’ rinse and repeat.
He’d have friends over until all hours and be loud when I was trying to sleep. We worked the same shift by the way, and he was always tired and late.
He’d throw house parties like every other week and ignored me when I said I didn’t want anyone over. They got intoxicated and barged into my room and would be all friendly asking me to come join the party and hurl insults at me when I refused.
Cops were called multiple times by neighbors; his friend was arrested once.
Then the late notices for rent started to come in. I asked him why we were getting them as I had been giving him my half, on time every month, and he came back with, “Well, I didn’t have my half, so I didn’t pay it.” When I asked about my half, he said, without a hint of regret or remorse, “I didn’t have any dough for food or cable or utilities, so I spent it.” I was livid.
I was paying my share for MONTHS while this backed up, and he spent it all away, and we were broke. We went to the property manager and got an extension, and I told him he had to shape up and that I was going to handle expenditures. He fought it, but I stayed firm, and he finally agreed.
There’s a lot more he did in this time, but the final straw came in July, our last month living together.
He had lost his job due to falling asleep on the job, calling in sick, etc. and informed me he had nothing in his bank account. He begged me to cover everything but I didn’t have anything. I started buying one meal at a time, so he wouldn’t eat my food and keeping anything of value I had hidden or locked up. My depression was really bad, and I went to this goth industrial club one Sunday night to try and pick myself up.
It didn’t work, and I was really close to just ending it all that night. Then this sweet 1-year-old cat came up to me, a stray. I always wanted a Maine Coon and here one was. She wouldn’t leave me alone, so I decided to take her home. I forgot all about canceling my life subscription. That cat saved my life.
We get the eviction notice and admit defeat.
I’m still working and packing up stuff at night. I get a text at work while on a call from Rick, “Your cat ran away.” My heart was racing, on the verge of tears, and I excused myself and called him in a panic. After ten minutes of him jerking me around, he admitted it was a prank, and the cat was fine. That cat meant the world to me, and he knew it.
I told work I had to leave, and shaking with rage and anxiety, called a friend with a truck. I was out of there that night.”
16. He Allowed His Schizophrenic Friend To Stay With Us For A Whole Month
“I wasn’t in college at the time, but our collegiate roommate Tom once let his schizophrenic friend crash at our house, and he ended up staying an entire month. According to Tom, Craig was the coolest, most relaxed guy a few years back and he was excited to see him again.
Almost immediately after this guy showed up, Tom went MIA, claiming to be working on school projects at his friends’ houses.
Every day, Craig would smoke copious amounts of maryjane and then sit in our kitchen in his boxers with his head buried in crossed arms on the table. If we ever came into the kitchen, he would purr, or he would quietly giggle like a loon. He kept eating our food, and when we complained about it, he started crying and said he would clean to make up for it.
He proceeded to throw away half of our groceries from the fridge.
At night, he would also talk about stabbing his father, how he was in love with this girl who “left him for another man,” how he wanted to be “big, black, and strong,” and sometimes about being a woman so he could give services to guys. He was all over the place.
We spoke to his parents who were in another state multiple times, and they said they’ve tried everything, but he was an adult, and he left home because he was threatened by their help.
He had it out for his mom only a few months before and his father was his friend but then randomly switched one day. We even suggested seeking help and he was not happy with that, freaking screaming.
After a month, we had some other friends coming to stay and told him to get the heck out. He was sobbing in my roommate’s arms one minute, and then just ran out to his car and drove away, leaving all of his stuff while screaming, “Keep it; I don’t need it where I am going!”
So we go into his room, and his email is open…
Turns out, the girl who he said he’d been with for about six months had been seeing him for about 3 weeks. He would send her crazy emails about his love, and she kept replying, “We hung out for like three weeks. I am sorry for what you are going through. Please leave me alone” and emails to his mom where literally wrote stuff like:
I AM THE KING OF MY DOMINION!!!!!!!! I AM A FREAKING LION!!!!!!!! RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!
And his mom would reply with, “Please get outside, honey.
I bought you that surfboard. Please go surfing. You know it helps take your mind off things. I love you.”
We notified his parents, and a few days later, they called. He ended up getting arrested in Los Angeles (we were in San Diego) and was put into a mental facility. His parents flew out and got his stuff and we never heard from them again. Dat stuff cray.”
15. Her Emotions Were Everywhere
“Ohhhh, the joy of freshman roommates.
We shall call her Sally. I met Sally on a class of 2014 social media page, and we messaged back and forth, and she seemed cool. We agreed to be roommates; I didn’t really know her, or anyone else for that matter, but I just wanted to make sure they were normal, and she seemed normal.
Cue to a few weeks before school started.
ALL SUMMER, she posted on my wall, blew my phone up, just “herpdy-derp, soooo excited for school!!!!1!!1” It was obvious that she had decided that we were to be best friends. Okay. I can handle that.
Now is time for her description: short, maybe 5’1/5’2, curvy, crazy curly black hair, and a Cleveland accent. It was move-in day. I had arrived before her, and when she walked through the door, I approached her, saying something, like, “Yay, we’ve finally met!” and going in for a hug, I don’t know.
Instead, she looks at my fingernail polish (burgundy) and my toenail polish (pink), and she said, “Ew. Your fingernail and toenail polish doesn’t match. I don’t like that.”
That entire first week, she dominated every dang conversation had with anyone in the dorm, telling them how she modeled for a hair magazine (which she brought to school, by the way, displayed on her desk), how she’s Jewish, how she’s allergic to apples, how she neverrr works out but has the PERFECT body, and every boring, uninteresting fact about her.
Within the first two days, she spied a boy down the hall and WAS UP HIS BUTT
Dear lord. They started going steady. She ONLY hung out with him, for HOURS every day, just sitting on her bed, or his bed, or I don’t know, just together. And I was friends with him and his roomie, so it was chill, until one night, he stayed over in her room (which is down the hall… really?), and they decide to hook up while I was there.
Our beds were set up, so that they touched. MY BED WAS MOVING. I promptly got up at 3:30 AM and crashed on one of my other friend’s futons.
Sally absolutely dropped everyone else who she had tried to force a friendship on (which I was cool with) but then would get emotional when she was excluded. She was a little, fun sucker with everything we did.
She didn’t drink, which is totally cool; I respect that, but she would join the people on the floor who went out plastered and become distant and angry with everyone, especially her man, with whom she fell “in love” with within the first few weeks of seeing each other.
Oh, and she cried. Constantly. About her man, about ME, about anything at all. She cried about 3 times a week, at least.
Her man and she began to fight: SCREAMING, crying, angry fights all IN MY ROOM. Now, I’m very involved at my school; I also studied a lot at the library, had a job, and had a lot of friends in the same dorm, so I rarely was in my room at all, but it realllly gets annoying when at least 2 times a week for a few hours at a time having to avoid the room.
But, I understood, couples fight, and they’re in a dorm, so where else are they supposed to do that?
Throughout the entire year, I don’t think she studied at all (communications major, gah). The TV that she brought was. Never. Off. She watched TV constantly. As soon as she woke up, the TV was on. If I returned after she had fallen asleep, the TV was still on.
All day, every day. And it wasn’t even good channels; it was a very diverse mixture of ET, MTV, or BRAVO, and if she had already seen the episode, she WOULD STILL WATCH IT AGAIN. It honestly was appalling seeing that much blatant inactivity.
I mean, sometimes she would go outside the dorm. She had a job that she worked about 10-15 hours a week, an understandable amount as a college student; you don’t want to become overwhelmed.
But then she QUIT because she didn’t like working on Sundays because that was the day her man got brunch with HIS friends, and she didn’t want to miss out on spending time with him. WHAT.
This summer, they—as you probably guessed—broke up. She went into the crazy depressive mode and BLEW EVERYONE’S PHONES UP. She apologized to me about how she should have known that boys would leave before friends (like, no crap – everyone knows that.) She is now up everyone’s butts trying to repair the friendships that she actually never cultivated. So there’s nothing there to repair. Our circle of friends (and by our friends, I mean her ex-man’s and my friends), absolutely despise her, and I just sit back and chuckle to myself. I’m excited for this year to start.”
“The crying sounds like a case of an untreated anxiety disorder. Tends to get written off as PMS in girls.” Danbu42
14. She Keeps Breaking My Stuff And Gives No Craps
What a sweet roomie…
“I know the solution to this problem is to just talk to my roommate, but I am so non-confrontational that every time I’ve tried, I have gotten scared and backed down immediately. This is such a weird problem that I think she must genuinely have no idea she’s being super rude. I don’t how you can break someone’s stuff and do absolutely nothing about it.
Here’s the background history.
Roommate moved in in April. I needed a new roommate as my old one was moving in with her partner. Old roommate and I were really good friends and knew each other before moving in together. So I knew this new girl who was a stranger that I found on a roommate finder site, obviously our relationship would be different. But I did put in the ad that I am very friendly and social and was looking for a roommate who would be down to hang out, and generally be good friends.
This girl is definitely not like my old roommate.
She’s pretty introverted, so she’s in her room a lot. We have a 2 bed, 2 bath, so for the most part, it’s easy to stay out of each other’s way. I would like us to hang out more, but she really just wants to play video games in her room or play DnD over Zoom. Sometimes we’ll watch a movie together.
Due to current circumstances, we can’t really go out and do stuff I might usually use to try and break down her social wall (going out to eat, grabbing a drink at a bar, catching some live music. We live in a neighborhood with lots of walkable nightlife, so it’s killing me that I can’t take advantage of that this year).
So here’s the meat of the problem.
Other than her bedroom furniture, a couch, and a couple of cups and plates, she didn’t really come with much, which is fine; I love to cook and have a fully stocked kitchen. I told her I absolutely don’t mind sharing stuff, added her stuff to the cabinets, and that was that.
However, she keeps breaking things. I absolutely understand that dishes break all the time, and I don’t have an emotional attachment to anything except one set of bowls my dad brought back from China.
It’s not a big deal to replace it.
Except she never tells me when she breaks something! I only find out because I find the pieces of whatever it was in the trash or something goes missing and I’ll look for it for a while and finally ask her about it, and she’ll just casually say she broke it.
No apology, no acknowledgment that it was mine, and now it doesn’t exist anymore.
She does not offer to replace it or pay for it. I would probably say no, no; don’t worry about it but I would appreciate the gesture. I know if I broke something that wasn’t mine, I would offer to replace it. I shattered an old roommate’s wine glasses when I accidentally dropped the water pitcher in the sink, and I ordered a new set right away and she had new glasses by that weekend.
I have tried a couple of times to tell her about it, but I chicken out every time. We have a decent relationship, and I don’t want to upset the balance we have. Especially right now, I spend more time at home than I ever have before. I do not want a hostile home environment. She never goes anywhere except the gym, so if she becomes hostile, I will definitely be miserable.”
13. I Snitched On My Super Mean Roommate To Force Her To Retake A Class
Serves the jerk right.
“This story takes place a couple of years back. During college, I lived with several roommates. All of them were nice, and we got along… Well, except for this one idiot. Let’s call her Karen.
She is a loud-mouthed, stupid, egocentric jerk who has a face that could scare the crap out of a toilet.
She would never clean up after herself. She would always leave her plates and things at the spot where she last used them.
I have lost count of how many times I caught her stealing my clothes without asking. Yet, if you touch her clothes, she loses her crap on you. She would drink our lactose-intolerant roommate’s almond milk, and any time we confronted her for drinking it, she would shrug and say, “I only had a sip. Stop being so stingy.” She plays her music loud at night, invites strangers without giving any heads up, a time or two she didn’t pay rent even though her parents are FILTHY RICH and she even wears luxury Gucci shoes and Prada garbage, and Karen also freaking lies about everything even things that are not worth lying about.
Like, if she woke up 7, and you ask her, she’ll lie through her flipping teeth and say she rose with the sunrise because she is a natural. (P.S., this is something I actually heard her say to her parents while she was Skyping them…. So cringy. Who the heck says that? But I digress.)
Months we have freaking put up with her, and of course, we tried to get other roommates, but, unfortunately, when we all moved in everything, all documents and contracts were done in her name, so kicking her out would require a lot of effort, and most of us were busy with school and work, and life happens.
So, we ignore it as much as we can and try to move on.
We were now all seniors and in our final semesters, meaning graduation was coming, AND Karen is planning a backpacking trip across Europe with her friends as a graduation gift to herself. This is important, so remember this.
One of our roommates and my closest friend, Sasha, has had a crush on a guy that lives down the hall.
Any time the two of them are together, Sasha and the guy keep giving each other googly eyes and blushing faces; it was sooo cute. Sasha is a verbally autistic person and has never dated anyone because she has a hard time with socializing and understanding social cues and subtlety, which let’s face it, that is the core of seeing someone, especially flirting. But with a lot of encouragement from me and the final roommate, Lola, we got her to ask him out.
He said yes. She was so happy, you guys. She flew back into the apartment and did an hour of happy dance with her arms flailing about and a poop-eating grin on her face. Needless to say, we were all so happy.
Karen caught wind of this, and it just so happens that at that time, she was having relationship problems. I guess her man finally realized he was seeing human garbage.
Not one to be outshined, Karen behind all of our backs went to the guy’s place and spun lies about Sasha, saying she is a serial liar and even made a fake account for Sasha’s so-called man. The guy never called Sasha, and eventually, weeks passed by, and he told us why, but by then, Sasha felt like the damage was done and lost interest in him.
I. WAS. FREAKING. FURIOUS.
This level of jerkiness and bloody pettiness is the straw that finally broke the camel’s back, and I vowed I wouldn’t freaking leave until I served my slice of justice.
Here’s another character that you must know about: Professor C. His wife two years ago was in a horrible car accident, and as a result, is now in a wheelchair. This is especially problematic because she was a stay-at-home mom who took care of their two special needs kids, and they have a toddler at home.
Homelife is a mess for him. He is running ragged between working and single-handedly is taking care of his family.
The uni took pity and also feared the workload would cause one of their best and most beloved teachers to leave, so the school struck a deal with him to help him out.
In all of his classes, there would be quizzes and midterms; this doesn’t change, but the assignments you submit, he corrects at the end of the year.
This is important because our uni normally has zero-tolerance on professors who don’t constantly update the students’ course works so that students have the chance to improve their grades.
Karen, the lazy and stupid jerk she is, is somehow skating through his assignments, even though they require a crap ton of research and writing. I accidentally learned that one of her older friends told her that she only needs to submit the paper on its due date and only write the first 3 pages and use a paraphrasing tool for the rest of the paper, so the plagiarism software won’t detect it and would think its original material, and when the end of the year comes, she’d submit a hard copy but with the first pages being her actual work and the rest being completely plagiarized, professional work.
Professor C. wouldn’t know because the likelihood a man as busy as him would be thoroughly checking the work of 120+ students is pretty low.
I grinned. A plan was beginning to formulate in my head. She is going down! All semester-long, I let her do this for all of the 7 papers, one of them which is a term paper that has 20% on it alone.
All the while, I spied and gathered all of her passcodes, social media, her student ID, everything.
The end of the year came, and I compiled all of her assignments, both the original one with the paraphrasing tools she used to circumvent plagiarism and the one she finally handed them in, and I even made photos where there is a side-to-side comparison of the assignments.
This is a good start but not enough.
So, one day chilling at the living room, I open a conversation about relationships, and Karen is two-timing her new man and is sleeping with some other person. So, I ask her questions like, “Don’t you feel guilty for being unfaithful?” and “You do realize this is wrong?” and I even paraphrase my words in a way that is vague but also clear. For example, I would say, “It’s not fair.
So many people work so hard every day to be successful, and you are here being unfaithful and lying your way to success.”
Karen, narcissistic as heck, would respond with snippets of, “I don’t care” and how she isn’t being unfiathful and that she is only having fun and that everyone does it so why not her too.
This is too good to be true. Even her answers are vague.
It’s like God put his hand on my shoulder, looked me right in the eyes, and said, “Bury this idiot,” and I’d be darned if I didn’t.
As you probably have guessed it by now, I was recording EVERYTHING. The recording plus the photos and with her assignments were more than enough evidence, I sent an anonymous email to the professor, and I tell the girls so that they can prep for the crazy storm that’s coming.
Three weeks later, the results are out. She failed and LOST HER MARBLES. She was screaming, crying, wailing, what a sight to see! You best believe the girls and I were laughing. She tried to talk to the prof, but he was not having it.
She cried and begged for a second chance, but he said a hard no. So, now she has two options: she goes ahead and doesn’t graduate with us and takes on a whole other semester for one measly course, or she has to take a summer course and cancel her trip to Europe, which, mind you, she spent a lot on, something like $13,000, and I know it could have been much cheaper, but Princess Karen only wanted the best.
The next couple of weeks, she had sleepless nights because she was calling and canceling all the reservations she made, trying to get her dough back, BUT (again, God really was out for blood that day) because the cancellation was so close to some her trip most places refused to refund, or some charged her cancellation fees.
She only managed to scrap $5,500 back together, losing $7,500.
But it’s not over. Having evidence, I, with earned gusto, told her she was going to pay all of the bills until we moved out, which was in two months. This was payback for all the times she was late on a payment or defaulted, and she would, from now on do her part of the house chores or else I’m going to send it all to the admin and faculty dean, and she will for sure be kicked out, and all those uni years will have been for nothing.
She hated it; she freaking threw tantrums and cussed me out, but my God, if she didn’t do what she was told… She cleaned her stuff, apologized to Sasha for what she did, I forced her to come clean to her man (I don’t know the guy, but the few times I met him, he was super sweet to us, and I felt bad for him), and I watched her actually do the dishes for the first time in like years.
It was flipping amazing, and I don’t regret it one bit. In fact, anytime I feel sad now as an adult, I kick back my feet and reminiscence, and a slow poop-eating grin draws itself upon my face.”
12. She's An Absolute Slobby Mess
Don’t you just LOVE messy people?
“I never should’ve given her the landlord’s info after showing her the room, but I was rushing to find someone because last time we let the landlord choose someone, we got bike thief addicts, and a friend spoke well of her as a person.
The first problem was her smoking. I’ve lived with smokers before who are considerate about it, and they’re fine.
I kept coming home to or waking up coughing to the house filled with smoke.
I would step outside to find her sitting facing doors or windows and smoking with a pile of already smoked cigs next to her. I told her it was all coming into the house, and she seemed shocked. I told her, “Hey, it’s not your fault the house is a drafty piece of crap, but it is.,You need to smoke further away.” She said okay.
A couple of hours later, I stepped out to find her lighting up while plopped down in the exact same spot.
I stared at her and said, “Didn’t we literally just talk about this?” She made another shocked face and told me, “Oh, did you mean I should stop like right now? Oh my God, can you actually smell it? I’m so embarrassed.” Multiple times throughout the day and night the house would get filled with smoke, and I’d step outside to find her doing the same thing.
She’d grab her phone and waddle away. Or if I said something before she could, she’d look at with a lit cig in her hand and say, “I’m not even smoking out here!”
Then her solution changed to trying to hide it.
She’d burn so many scented candles and incense sticks, you couldn’t breathe. I told her it didn’t cover that she was smoking right next to the house anyway, and it was making me horribly sick.
Eventually, I gave up and contacted the landlord. He never responds to messages, but he actually got back to me and was so annoyed, he said he’d be calling her immediately and telling her to stay at least 20 feet from the property when smoking.
Dishes. Oh my God, the dishes.
When she was moving in, she said she had a lot of kitchen gadgets and such. I told her, “Hey, you do you.
I do some baking but nothing crazy, so there’s lots of room in the kitchen, so feel free to find a space for your stuff.” The walls, tables, and drawers are filled with stuff. She owns multiples, and I seriously think it’s because of her refusing to clean.
She uses little tin sauce cups like you’d get in a restaurant, and multiple times, there’d be a pile of them building in the sink.
I decided to just wash them myself once, and when I went to grab them, my finger sunk into old, moldy sauce. She had never even rinsed them a little, so they were all just flipped over in the sink but filled with rotten food.
Around Thanksgiving, she made something with a big slow cooker thing. I went away for a couple of weeks and came back to it still on our little counter.
I had decided I wasn’t cleaning any more of her garbage, so I left it.
It sat there for nearly a month. It started to smell, and when I looked inside, it was full of juices and grease and bones with grayish fuzzy chunks of mold growing on the inside. I texted her and asked, “Can you please clean your slow cooker ASAP?” and told her about the mold.
She came out of her room and huffed and puffed and slammed things around while cleaning it in a tantrum.
Wino. I have a drink at home once in a while too.
But she gets stupid sloppy wine wasted. A friend of hers moved into a vacant room, and they’ll down a bottle of cheap wine each and be disasters all night. Have yelling conversations on speakerphone, dropping and breaking things, stumbling and falling all over the place until like 3 am.
She thinks she’s helpful. A few times after she first moved in, I would get text messages from her telling me she had swept. And saying it like it was a huge favor.
I would say thanks or not respond ’cause sweeping is just kind of what you’re supposed to do? But she half-arsed to a level I haven’t seen before. She would sweep up little piles and leave them on the floor.
Or one giant pile, and it would be underneath a towel or hidden in a corner. And she seemed to just drop the broom on the floor when she was ‘done.’ Like she got raptured mid-chore. I asked her once to put the broom back where it goes when she’s done (in a nook connected to the kitchen where we put cleaning supplies).
She stared at me incredulously with her mouth hanging open and sighed heavily then said, “You mean like EVERY TIME?!” I replied “Um..
Yes? Like when you’re done using something, put it back where it goes?” She looked from the broom, to the nook, and to me before sighing dramatically again and saying, “Well I mean.. I guess I can TRY.” She did not try.
Literal crap. I constantly have to clean the toilet before I can use it. I think she doesn’t know how to uhhh align herself on the toilet? She leaves crap scrapes on the toilet, and once, drops of liquid poop and period blood on the floor.
And no one’s poop doesn’t stink, but that bathroom is a health hazard when she gets done with it.
If I liked her, I’d genuinely be concerned about her health for how bad it is. Her habit is to drink a bunch of wine, drink a bunch of coffee, smoke a bunch of smokes, then explode in the bathroom, and it lingers for like an hour. I’ve bought odor eater sprays and left them on the bathroom counter as a hint, but I don’t think she’s ever used it.
Quarantine. You’d think a smoker with probably damaged lungs would be extra worried about what could happen if someone brought sickness into the house.
No. As soon as her hours got cut, she started having a weird, dingy dude basically living in the house for 2-3 days each week. The first time I saw him, I genuinely thought a homeless man had broken in. Just dirty, smelly layers upon layers of clothing with knotted, dirty hair.
After the landlord told her the smoking near the house had to stop, her attitude cranked up to 11. She was already a stupid slob, but now she’s an angry stupid slob.
She started telling lies about me to her friend who had moved in, who would then come to me and ask me about it.
I tell her, “No, not true” and told her about my email to the landlord and how she interestingly started spreading stuff right when that happened.
The friend shrugged and said, “Yeah, I know what she’s like” and seems like a play both sides type. We had one of those conversations last night, and I woke up to my makeup bottles emptied onto my shower towels and my hair products all tossed on the floor.
I wish moving was an easier option right now. With current circumstances, my job future is unclear, and I live close to my work, so it has been a blessing that I don’t have to use public transportation to get there.
Even with my usual hours, I couldn’t really afford anything else in the area.
I got stupid lucky to find this place when I did. And I just spent thousands of dollars on surgery less than a month ago. I wish I could believe she’d move out, but if she’s too lazy to put away a broom, I don’t have much faith she’s going to find a new place to make a sty.
I wish I knew how her previous victims had gotten her to leave.”
11. An Aggressive Slob With Odd Behavior
“A couple of months ago, I was desperate to find a roommate and found one over social media, did not know her before, but she gave me a video tour of the apartment, and we had a call, and she seemed nice enough, so I moved in.
Boy was that a bad idea. Red flag #1 was when she told me about her previous roommate who “ghosted her for no reason” and moved in with his partner after growing distant.
I didn’t think much of it at first, but now I fully understand why he did.
To start with, this place is a pigsty. It took no time for the whole apartment to be filled with unwashed dishes, empty chip bags, rotting fruit, and even rotting leftovers from a restaurant she left in the living room for 2 weeks. She doesn’t understand the concept of cleaning at all, not dishes, not floors, and not even the built-in cutting board after she uses it to cut raw meat.
I’ve basically become like her mother, cooking food that she eats and constantly cleaning up after her.
Her personality, though, is where I’m starting to get scared. Pretty early on, I realized she’s a compulsive liar. If someone says they had night terrors last night she’ll go, “Oh, that’s crazy, ME TOO” in front of me. We share thin walls and I was awake until about 5 am that night, I know for a fact she did not wake up screaming in the night.
I hate to question things about what people say about their mental health, but she claims to have every disorder under the sun and shows none of the symptoms (even contradicts them at times), and some of my friends who actually have these disorders also find it suspicious. She’s obsessed with a TikTok star and weaseled her way into his friend group, stalks him (this apartment is even in his neighborhood), and generally behaves erratically and is constantly trying to drag me along with her on anything related to him which I’ve made clear I want no part of.
Finally, she’s prone to very loud and aggressive outbursts. I corrected her on a small historical fact (I’m a history major, ok, I can’t help myself but give correct dates), and she slammed her hand down on the table and YELLED, “No!” and started explaining very aggressively and in my face about why she thought she was right. (She wasn’t, either.)
2 months in and I’ve essentially holed myself in my room, distanced myself, and am seriously considering leaving. Some friends are convinced I need to get out and are genuinely scared for my safety, but part of me still feels like maybe it’s not worth it. I told her I would stay until next June, but I am on a month-to-month sublet, so I could technically leave whenever I wanted.”
10. His Addiction Was A Huge Headache For Everyone
“People say you can’t be an addict in college, as everyone around you is drinking too just as much hedonistic excess as you are, but they’re wrong. Nobody could match Geoff’s pace. For the week encompassing his 19th birthday, Geoff was not sober. We’re talking seven full days and nights of legal inability to operate a vehicle. Kid was dedicated, if nothing else.
The quintessential Geoff story takes place the night after he passed out sprawled face-down on the floor of our dorm room (at the tail end of a roughly half-hour set of muffled a cappella Michael Jackson karaoke), an event which, luckily for him and unluckily for me, our non-interventionist RA completely ignored.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I will say that I was not present for the events described; however, I had the story told to me by so many people that I can picture exactly how things transpired. With that, let’s launch right into things.
Geoff, unfazed by the ever-present threat of suspension from our fair university, came back from some forgettable college party utterly smashed as per usual.
However, instead of shambling back to his own bed, he wandered his dumb wasted butt into his friend’s room across the hall. He then proceeded to leave the door open, turn the lights on, vomit on the carpet, and lose consciousness.
About fifteen minutes later, the aforementioned RA began his nightly rounds – a process that typically consisted of him walking very briskly throughout his assigned area and pretending not to notice anything that could land anyone in trouble.
The RA then noticed Geoff, little pitiful pile of frat-boy reject that he was, lying in a puddle of his own bodily fluids in someone else’s room. Helen Keller couldn’t have failed to notice him. Regretfully following procedure, he called the paramedics, who brought with them local law enforcement (Geoff was at this point still under the legal drinking age). The paramedics woke him up and used a breathalyzer on him, which returned a value of 0.26.
The police asked him to spell his name, and he tacked a few extra Fs onto the end for emphasis. He was informed that he would be receiving two strikes on his record for the evening’s debacle (information that had to be repeated to him very slowly the following morning), and with that the responders struck out into the corridors, like doomed prospectors, trying to find someone in the hall sober enough to take care of him for the rest of the night.
(Fun fact: they could not, having to resort to leaving him with the now thoroughly displeased RA.)
After that was all settled, Geoff was told by one of his many wasted friends who’d congregated outside the doorway that the paramedics were leaving him. This got our hero’s inebriated attention surprisingly quickly. “They’re what?” he slurred, (presumably) drooling from at least one side of his mouth.
“Leaving,” his friend reiterated.
This would not stand. Without warning, Geoff stood up and waddled to the doorframe. “Hey!” he called. “Hey! Wait! High-five?”
He then chased the paramedic, high-five arm outstretched, down the hallway to the stairwell until he found that she had already left the building. Miraculously, he managed not to get suspended for another full year. Even more miraculously, I convinced him to switch rooms with a friend of mine so I could stop having to deal with him.”
9. The Party Never Ends With Them
“I was nervous about my first roommate, so I actually called him up to discuss who was bringing what, like a good little nerdy freshman. I’d bring the TV, he’d bring his Xbox, etc. I figured it would be best to try to be friends since we’d be living together.
Well, I call his number that the university provided, and his mom answers. I ask for him.
After an awkwardly long pause, he picks up and mumbles incoherently to all of my questions. Already, I know something is wrong.
As it turns out, Steve is a townie. Yes, he lives in town and is going to this university in his hometown where he was required to live in the dorms.
I did not have the wisdom to realize what bad fortune had befallen me.
The first day of school, I get moved in, and there’s no sign of my roommate.
At this point, I don’t even know what he looks like. He’s left his stuff in the room but hasn’t really made any effort to organize it or make any space for me. I have to move his TV (which I told him I was bringing…) to make room for my chair.
Whatever, I say. I go out, socialize a bit, come home later that afternoon, and hit the hay early because I’m exhausted.
I wake up at some ungodly hour to the worst smell I have ever smelt in my 18 short years. Steve has returned covered in a combination of vomit, liquor, and smoke. It is the worst mixture of odors I have ever encountered, and to this day I can remember laying awake until sunrise, praying for sleep to come, silently cursing the wasted, fat, vomit-covered butthole in the bunk beside me.
The next few weeks, I “get to know” Steve a bit better.
He is in engineering school because his brother went there and is now a successful engineer. Steve doesn’t want to be here. At all. Steve wants to get wasted every night and vomit on every available surface with his townie friends. It just so happens he now has a better place to crash when his friends drop him off after a crazy night.
One day, one of his friends came into the room, smoking (in the dorms, this was highly illegal) while talking about the room.
He was your typical white-trash townie, talking in ghetto-slang and trying to sound like a baddie. In particular, he was impressed by the fact that we had two TVs. “Y’all mothachoppers livin’ like mothafreakin’ KINGS!”
So the nights of vomit and smokes continued unabated. I was happy when the semester got into full swing, as I had an excuse to go study in the library or at a classmate’s room.
Anything to avoid the smell. I bought a cheap air filtration machine to keep it at bay, but it was impossible to purge the room completely.
Partway through the semester, I started to realize that my roommate couldn’t possibly be going to his classes. He would sleep in the room for hours, all afternoon, then wake up to go out and do more partying with his townie buddies.
By this point I had basically no respect for him, so I went through his mail, found some personal information with his student ID and account data, connected to the university’s class registration system, and checked his record. He was failing all his classes. The drop date was mid-October, just a few weeks away, so I knew I had until then and then Steve would be out of my life for good.
The date came: he dropped and moved out. I was ecstatic. No roommate for the rest of the semester.
The next semester, he was re-enrolled and living in a room directly across the hall from me. Oh well, he’s somebody else’s problem now, I thought. Turns out, he dropped out of his second attempt at college, too.”
8. Quiet Roommate Turns Into A Devil
“I never thought I’d be one of the unlucky ones to get a terrible roommate freshman year. I had high hopes that summer, and those hopes were subsequently dashed after a week of living with the worst person I’d ever encountered in my life.
I should’ve seen the warning signs when she didn’t email me and the other roommate (we were in a triple) when we started corresponding before the big move-in.
I assumed maybe she was shy, or she just wasn’t big on the whole technology thing. Anyway, we knew next to nothing about her, even her social media page was sparse save for a few absolutely obnoxious profile pictures. (She was into taking mirror shots with this weird duckface, stiff lip thing going on.)
She seemed perfectly nice when I met her for the first time, if not a bit quiet, but little did I know the evil that lurked behind her glasses.
When I got back to my room, I decided to play some music while I got my side (which was pathetically small) sorted out and cleaned.
I was blasting Queen when our other roomie came in. With a sour expression, she asked in a thick Russian accent, “Is this that gay Freddie guy? Please don’t play their music.”
I stood there, flabbergasted, that someone who I knew so little, would say something so terrible when I had barely had spoken to her.
I don’t really remember what I said after that, but it was along the lines of, “Are you homophobic? I’m not going to stop playing Queen or any of the gay artists that I love.” She outright admitted to being somewhat homophobic, although she wasn’t particularly scared of them seeing as she didn’t believe there was such a thing as being gay anyway.
Crap went down that semester, so much crap that it’s impossible not to have to write 2 pages worth of a story to get it all down.
So here is a bulleted list:
She gave me and my roommate terrible colds practically the first day she arrived by getting snot everywhere. She then wondered aloud, “Where are tissues?” and refused to get any; my roommate had to get them.
She woke up EVERY MORNING at 5 or 6 in the morning. EVERY MORNING.
She went to bed at 9:30, and even if she went to bed at 4, she’d get up at the same time.
She scoffed at me for sleeping in and thought it was bad for us to get so much sleep. (Oh, and she wanted to go to med school. Really?)
She told me once that she could see the devil in people and that our roommate surely had the devil in her.
She stood in front of her vanity mirror for 10 minutes every morning and stared at herself making the duckface stiff lip thing for 10 solid minutes.
She demanded that we be quiet and have the lights off at 9:30, or she’d be loud in the morning. She was loud anyway, even when we weren’t.
She criticized our living areas; she was offended at any sort of undergarment being left out.
SHE NEVER LEFT THE ROOM. She also had no friends, whatsoever.
She was extremely rich. This isn’t really a problem, but it was strange.
She once let me borrow a towel, and she didn’t want it back. (Probably because I was evil and dirty.) I kept it, and at the end of the year, I looked at the tag and saw that it was a Ralph Lauren towel. What the heck.
She made lots of annoying little noises constantly and would make ludicrous statements and complaints.
At the end of the first semester, my roommate and I had bonded over our shared hatred for our roomie and wanted her out.
Our building of freshmen was de-tripling, so we were hoping we’d have to separate soon. (It wasn’t mandatory to separate, however.) Of course, our little roomie was the first to see the notice that we had the option to separate, and SURPRISE SURPRISE, she says in a matter-of-fact tone, “I’m not leaving.” I wanted to cry at that point. I was really worried my roommate would leave me with her, and I’d be stuck.
I basically went off on the witch, asking her WHY IN THE HECK she’d want to continue living with us if she seemed to hate it so darn much. She liked how cheap living with two roommates was (what the heck), and she honestly didn’t care if we didn’t like her.
My roommate and I eventually convinced her to move out by telling her that the dorm she’d be living in was right next to the library, and it was really quiet. She finally agreed, and my roommate and I had a great time the night. She left by playing gay freaking music after 9:30.”
7. Just Let Me Freaking Study
“This is another petty story about my two-year roommate during my time living on campus during college.
A little backstory for this one: When we first started rooming together, NJ had an addition to both WoW and Runescape. While the games, themselves, are not important for the story, his underlying addiction to games is important.
One character trait of NJ which I could never understand was how he preferred to study – not just complete his homework: study in loud environments.
While I understand some people prefer this, I believe it is an important aspect of cohabitation to recognize and respect different lifestyles.
One Wednesday night, I chose to settle in and study in my room as our libraries were consistently too noisy, even in the designated quiet areas.
NJ was well-aware of this as I had voiced these complaints before. He, consistent with his nature, chose to go out drinking on that Wednesday night.
Rather than going elsewhere to pregame, he chose to invite some girls over to drink in our room before going out. “Don’t worry, we’re just meeting here then we’re going over to so-and-so’s place before the bars,” NJ said.
They come over in full, already-tipsy force, loud as can be, talking about what one of them saw on social media or who was in the library or whatever.
Half an hour passes, and NJ says they’re waiting for two more people.
An hour goes by; NJ says that they’re still waiting but that he will bring them elsewhere, so I can study. An hour and a half now, they’re still there, so I grab my things and go to the library to study, despite its distracting noise levels. I had a terribly difficult night of studying.
He never apologized for the distraction the next day.
The next test for which NJ needed to study, he chose to procrastinate until the morning of the day before the test. Knowing I had a prescription but having never tried it himself, he asked me if I thought Adderall would help him focus and if he could buy one of mine to help him cram. ”Ha!” I thought.
“You want ME to help YOU study now?” So, I think about it for a moment, then I insisted that he just have one, no payment required.
I checked the time and made sure to watch him take it, and then I left. I came back forty-five minutes later, knowing he would start feeling the effects soon. Keeping in mind that he was easily hooked on video games and, knowing that he had never played it (learned in an unrelated conversation a while ago, though I was quite surprised he never had), I introduced him to Bejeweled. He was hooked.
I left, came back ten hours later to find him happy as a clam, still playing Bejeweled, and none of his study materials moved at all.
I smiled and cracked open a drink. His test did not go well.”
6. All My Roommates Took The Side Of The Roommate Who Absolutely Refused To Take Her Dog To The Vet
“This takes place in a 4 person apartment with 4 women. I will call them A, D, and M.
A moves in and decides she wants a bunny because I have a dog and D has a cat. So A and D go to the pet store and they don’t have bunnies. So they come home and announce they are going to the pound to get a dog.
I get a call from them saying they found the dog, and she wants me to bring my dog and the cat to the pound to see if they get along.
At this point, I’m annoyed because I think she is making an impulsive decision with an animal’s life, but I’m not her friend or parent, so I bring the animals to the pound to make sure we don’t have some huge fighting issue once she adopts the dog.
I immediately notice the dog is limping and the dog has diarrhea.
I tell her what I notice and she asks the pound vet to take a look. The dog has an injured knee and the vet says they won’t pay to fix it. So the girl calls her parents, they say, “No, what the heck are you thinking? You can’t afford a dog, let alone, a sick dog.
We won’t help you pay for anything.”
So the girl, full well knowing she can’t afford the dog and her parents don’t support the idea nor will they help pay for the dog, decided to adopt the dog.
She literally only had enough in her bank account to pay for the dog and its supplies.
She could not afford to take it to the vet even though she signed a contract when she adopted the dog that she would bring it to a vet within 3 days of adoption.
The poor dog was so sick.
The second she brought the dog home, it began to have uncontrollable diarrhea all over the apartment. Constant, putrid-smelling, liquid explosions. The girl also had a busy schedule, so she would leave in the morning and lock the dog up in a kennel for hours, so it would sit in a pool of diarrhea until she came home at night.
Also during this time, I was lucky enough to catch the flu, so I was at home vomiting with a fever hearing the dog cry from inside her locked room for days.
Even though I told her I could take the dog out for her, she kept turning me down.
She had nothing to pay the vet and just kept feeding the dog extra kibble because “it was sooooooo hungry.” So it would just have more explosive diarrhea every time it ate.
Not only was the extent of the diarrhea overwhelming, she wasn’t cleaning it up in a sanitary way.
She was using MY DISH AND HAND TOWELS TO SOP UP THE LIQUID MESS AND THEN SPRAYING FEBREZE TO “SANITIZE” it. And then she would put the feces rags that I paid for into our kitchen sink and proceed to freaking cook dinner “for the roommates” and complain when I didn’t want to eat because I was “rude” to turn down her offer.
I was the only person in the apartment that thought this was not fair to the dog and she needed to get the dog help.
Additionally, not only was I concerned for my health, I was concerned that this dog had some type of infectious disease that my dog could also contract.
This dog could have parasites or freaking PARVO! After two weeks of this literal poop storm, the dog had lost weight and now was passing straight blood stools. Literally just blood.
After hinting at, “Hey, when is your vet appointment,” for two weeks, I was about to break.
She was washing my poop-filled hand towels with the dog’s diarrhea-covered bed and I asked if she could put a cap full of bleach in the wash.
She said no; she didn’t want the new bed she bought to get bleach stains. I told her, “Then you need to buy me new hand towels.”
She told me that I was controlling. And then I lost my mind.
I told her that either she needed to bring the dog to the vet today or I was bringing the dog back to the pound.
I told her I would pay for it.
I didn’t give a crap, but if you don’t do anything, your dog is going to die.
She called me a freaking witch and then she and D took the dog to the vet. Those jerks came home after the vet and that stupid witch A looks me in the eye and said, “Not that you care, but the dog just needed antibiotics.
It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
This dog needed 2 months of antibiotics and 4 weeks of anti-diarrhea meds and a special diet for 4 months.
NOT TO MENTION THE PERMANENTLY DISLOCATED KNEE CAP THAT SHE COULD NOT AFFORD TO FIX!
And because I was the one who forced them to take care of the animal, I was the bad guy. D tore into me the next day because I was a “know it all witch who thinks she is better than everyone else,” so the next months were filled with A and D loudly talking about me and long awkward silences when I walked into the room with them casting glances at each other and laughing.
M who was my friend before we moved in said specifically she didn’t want to take sides.
That really made me mad because I couldn’t understand how she could keep quiet when they would be talking about me in the house. I told her that, and she responded, “What they are doing isn’t right. But you brought it on yourself. I know you aren’t from here, but when a southern woman has a problem with someone, they keep their mouth shut.
If you hadn’t said anything, they wouldn’t have anything to say about you.”
So I asked her straight, “So you are not going to say anything if they are talking crap about me in front of you.”
She said, “No, I told you I don’t want to take sides.”
I dropped that relationship there and then.
That was that. I moved out 3 painful months later. And found out that all three of them decided to keep living together and the dog died that summer. But don’t worry, they got another one for free.”
5. Apparently It's A Crime To Install A Security System
“Here’s the cast of this circus:
Me, stupid roommate (SR), roommate 1 (R1), roommate 2 (R2), and SR’s gross “partner” (G)
I moved in with three other girls close to my age in August of this year. Things seemed okay for the most part. R1 and R2 were super friendly and excited to move in and start a new chapter. SR, however, seemed more distant.
She didn’t come with us to get furnishings like we planned.
She never really did anything with us at all. This didn’t really bother me that much, like so what if she’s a bit reclusive and introverted? I was kind and respectful to her anyway. I got her a cake on her birthday and we invited her to movie nights. Everything was going great for the first 2 months.
Things started to get a little rocky when R1 started to smell the special green plant.
We talked to SR about it and told her that we weren’t comfortable with her bringing it around and smoking it in the house. I’m okay with the special green plant but it’s illegal in our state, and if she gets caught, then we’re all liable. She claimed that she doesn’t use it and it was just her friends who walked in that smelled like it.
We accepted that and went on with our lives. Then a few weeks later, R1 smelled it again. She confronted SR about it and told her that it’s not allowed in the house and she’s making everything stink. SR ignored us and smoked more. We didn’t report it because we didn’t have anyone who could move in if she got arrested, so we would have to cover her rent which we can’t afford.
Then she started inviting G over.
It wasn’t an issue really because they generally kept to themselves and didn’t bother us aside from smoking and having loud hook ups late at night. At this point, we decided to find a new roommate and we had great success. In mid-November, we tell SR that she needs to move out and she agrees. She said she would move out on the 27th (she didn’t).
SR then started telling G that he could park in front of the garage. R2 and I park in the garage so he essentially blocked us in or out any time he was here. He would move when asked but the roommate agreement we made has “NO BLOCKING” written on it, so obviously this was a major issue. SR is clearly showing a blatant disregard for her roommates.
What finally caused me to snap was seeing G walk into the house through the garage.
She had given him the code. He had access to our home. That was the final straw. We told SR that she was to be moved out by the 22nd of December and she agreed to that. I decided to change the garage code so that G couldn’t get in anymore (By accident, I ended up setting it so no one could use it).
This angered SR.
She assumed we had just locked her out of the house, so in retaliation, she locked the garage door. Then she confronted us in the group chat (chats are written verbatim):
SR: “Does not matter that I’m moving out, you have no right to lock me out just like I don’t have a right to lock you out.”
R1: “Exactly. We didn’t and we won’t. Please [don’t] do the same.”
I privately messaged SR telling her my reasoning for changing the garage code.
I told her why I was frustrated. She wasn’t paying me for the power bill, she brought substances in the house, she gave out the garage code to G and let him block the garage. I told her I don’t feel safe with any man being able to walk into my home as he pleases. I let her know that I was going to fix the garage keypad after she moved out because I didn’t trust her.
SR: “You are not 20 years old. I will pay you for the power bill that is due on 16th.”
“There is really not a lot of tension since I’m 19 and an adult.”
I didn’t respond.
SR: “If I am locked out again, the police will be showing up.” “I [can] act 16 too.”
Me: “I did not lock you out of the house. You have a house key.
You can easily access the house. I locked out the person you gave the garage code to.” “But sure. You can call me immature for wanting to feel safe in my own home.”
She didn’t respond to me until this morning.
SR: “I’m downstairs and I don’t feel safe with your bed buddy knowing the garage code.” “Just like all three of your white partners know it… I just don’t feel safe.
You can not have the garage code changed as long as I’m here and I’m going to call the police.” “And they will tell you the same thing doesn’t matter. People are smoking stuff in my room, you can’t do that!” “I live here, and you can’t do that.”
Me: “XXXXXX is my man of 3 years. No one else knows the garage code or walks in as they please.
They have to be let in. Go ahead and call the police if you can’t handle this like an adult. I’m having the garage code fixed after you leave. It’s not the end of the world to have to use the front door to get inside.”
That seems to be the end of it for now. I’m absolutely livid with her and her actions.”
Another User Comments:
“Tell her to call the cops AND to bring the substance dog. You can call the cops yourself and ask for a dare officer to come and do a walk-through as you think the maryjane-smoking room mate is smoking illegally. Jerk move? YES, but you want her out and save your own skin, you do exactly that. Who knows? Her man might be the dealer bust of a cop’s wet dream.” DesktopChill
4. She Was Angry That I Got Married, So She Threw Out My Wedding Cake
“The title pretty much sums it up. I had a roommate with whom I used to be close friends, until, that is, I got engaged. From that point on, she made it her mission to make my life in the house heck, all while making me seem like a jerk any time I confronted her about it.
She would throw out my food. If I had a board game out on a bookshelf and she didn’t like it, I’d find it in the basement with her two cats that peed and pooped all over the place.
She would go out of her way to make a huge racket in the kitchen if my fiancé and I were sitting quietly in the dining room or in the living room watching a movie.
Well, lo and behold, I got married in October. I even invited her to the small reception we had at a brewery, but she was “too busy” to go and then had a meltdown when I brought a few people back to our house (which had been the clear plan from the start) to have pizza and eat the rest of the cake.
My husband and I had told her for months that we would be buying a house and I would be moving out.
I offered to find her and my other roommate a replacement since they could never get their crap together to actually pay the rent on time, despite it being about $450/person. (That’s a story for a whole other post.)
Well, one night after the reception, I was sitting downstairs eating a slice of leftover wedding cake and got a phone call from our realtor that our offer on a house was accepted.
Low and behold, I come back downstairs, and not only was the slice of cake I was eating gone, but my entire wedding cake leftovers, including the top tier we were saving in the freezer, were in the trash. With old food dumped over them, I couldn’t even save any.”
Another User Comments:
“Dude, I’ve learned that people who claim to be adults and can’t get their crap together enough to have $500 to pay for rent are just wastes of space. $500 is two weeks at a minimum wage ($7.75 an hour) job, with taxes taken out. If you can’t figure that basic crap out, then you can’t afford to move out of your parents’ house.” powerlesshero111
3. She Screamed At Me To Clean But Never Cleaned Up Her Own Messes
So, she likes a clean home but doesn’t want to clean? Am I getting that right?
“I had a clean freak roommate who was crazy. She’d literally FREAK OUT and scream and clean up after you while you were cooking. I’d cut vegetables and be putting the first part into a pan, and she’d walk over furious that I’d left the cutting board out and messy for her to clean up – I’m literally still using it! I’ll clean up when I’m done using the cutting board! She however only ate two things, chicken nuggets, and popcorn.
WHICH SHE NEVER CLEANED UP AFTER.
She cooked the chicken nuggets on the same baking sheet every day. And when it was so caked in nugget residue it would burn in the oven, she’d put a layer of tin foil over it and cook on that. And then when that layer was gross, instead of removing the tin foil layer, she’d add more tin foil over the top!
When she moved out, she left the pan in the drawer under the stove covered in six layers of greasy burnt crumbled chicken nuggets.
She couldn’t stand me not cleaning a cutting board of vegetables halfway through cooking them, but apparently, a baking sheet covered in three months of chicken grease and crumbs can go back in the drawer?
She also made herself popcorn every night and then left the uncleaned pot on the stove all the time. That pot was never cleaned.
She did this before she’d go to bed at 7 pm.
She’s had the same bedtime since she was a child.
She never went to bed after 8 pm. If you made it past 9 without waking her up though, she was a sound sleeper and the noise level wouldn’t wake her.
She would invite her nieces over with no warning. So I was working retail at the time and had just worked an inventory until 4 am. I got home and at 6 am she and her nieces aged 6 and 9 started playing games that involved shrieking.
We’d never have any idea children were even in the apartment until the morning activities and she would get furious at us for implying we’d like them to keep it down until 8 or 9 because ‘this is just as much her place as ours and she can do whatever she wants!’ However, if we had anyone stay for more than two hours, she’d ask us to pay a higher share of the rent because they now counted as an additional resident of the apartment and we needed to be responsible for the burden.
She’d watch TV in her room with the door open, and get mad if you made too much noise in the living room on the other end of the house while she was watching.
But she would never change the volume, or close the door. If she couldn’t hear, she’d lecture you about roommate respect and watching the volume instead of shutting the door and turning the volume up a small smidgen.
Remember when I said she was a total neat freak and would walk around the kitchen cleaning up after you while you were still using items to cook? She made a big deal about how the cleanliness of the kitchen was of the utmost importance. I got off work two hours early one day and walked in and what did I find her doing? Cutting someone’s hair IN THE KITCHEN! There was hair all over the stove, counter, and floor. Vegetables are a kitchen abomination, but she cuts people’s hair in there twice a week and doesn’t think it’s a big deal at all.
I still hate her guts.”
2. You Could Just Feel His Bad Energy
“I decided to take on a roommate a few years ago in this duplex my husband and I were renting. We had a spare room, and an acquaintance had found out he needed a place to stay. We had him over for dinner to discuss details and get to know him. I felt kind of weird about him after the meetup and my husband said, “Oh, it’ll be fine.
It’s going to be a huge help anyway.”
Months went by, and we didn’t hear from him, so I felt pretty relieved.
Then about 2.5 months later, I get a call from him. He’s ready to move in. Once again, I’m pretty hesitant, but my husband kept saying the same old, “It’s going to help us out a lot with the rent.” So, he moves in.
Huge boxes stayed in the living room for the majority of the time he lived there.
He had his own bedroom and separate bathroom but still had stuff in the living room and in the storage space in the car port.
Every time he wanted to tell us about something, he’d drag it out into the living room and then just leave it. Eventually, I would just preemptively say, “That’s not staying out here.”
I’d have company over, and he would engage with them, which was ok at first, but then he’d get super combative or start bringing up politics which no one asked for.
I wish this was the worst of it.
There were times when my husband was sick or I was asleep, and he’d come to our room.
I don’t feel comfortable sleeping with the door closed, and our dog wouldn’t have it any other way, but our room was also on the complete opposite side of the duplex.
He would start drinking beers from 4 am until 7:30, going out to the fridge every half hour.
One night, he decided to start practicing music at 3 am, blasting the music. There were nights he was so intoxicated, he’d stumble through the living room to the kitchen mumbling to himself and didn’t even see me.
One time, he came out of his room (which led right into the living room), and his pants fell down. That was fun. He washed his clothes in his bathroom.
I lost tons of silverware because he decided to combine all of our stuff when he moved in. He would eat in his room and then all would be lost to the abyss of whatever was in there. He smoked so much that the whole house smelled of it. I don’t mind. Just don’t saturate my house with it. Husband suspected he was selling hard substances out of our house.
I’m sure I’m missing stuff. But combined with all this and … you can just feel dark energy around a person even if you don’t full-on subscribe to that, and something instinctual kicks in and you start feeling uneasy. I kept telling my husband that I didn’t feel safe with him in the house.
One day, I asked my roommate to receive a really important and expensive package, insisting that if he couldn’t or wasn’t going to be there, I’ll just reroute it.
He reassured me he would. A notification came that the package was missed. Whole ordeal, but basically, he was too wasted in the middle of the day to make this happen. He tried to call FedEx, but …yeah he was incoherent. I was furious, but I didn’t want to talk to him anymore about it. He followed me outside. I told him, “I don’t want to talk about it” and went inside to another bedroom that was designated as mine and shut the door.
He opens the door and keeps trying to talk to me! That totally freaked me out. Yet still… not creepy enough for my husband.
What was? The day roommate thought we weren’t home, went into our bedroom, and helped himself to our water dispenser. That. That was it.
I promptly wrote a formal letter of eviction, citing his invasion of our privacy, although he told everyone it was because me and my husband were getting separated. He was out in 30 days.
Roommate? Never again. Husband? Ex (though still friends).”
1. My Roommate Ruined A Job Interview For Me
“I have been job searching ferociously for a long time now. I am in a dead-end factory job that doesn’t pay very much, doesn’t require any college, and overall is not a good fit for me. I have been at this job for a little over a year now and only took it because I was desperate for a job and didn’t have any other job offers at the time.
Even before that job when I had a previous job that wasn’t nearly as bad as this one, I was job searching for something that actually had the opportunity for growth and pay raises. I’ve made it my second job (third if you count the factory job making me do so much mandatory overtime) to job search for the entire time I’ve been at this stupid factory.
Anyway, I had a job interview for a direct-hire through a job agency that I’ve been going through. The problem is, the interview was an in-person interview at one of their other branch locations in an area where mass transit does not go, and my car has not been reliable. It’s had a lot of issues lately with the battery and now the starter, and I’m trying to get a major repair on it very soon.
Fortunately, I had a neighbor about 4 houses down who was offering me car services for a very reasonable cost and had done good work on my car before (he was a mechanic at one time in the past). Let’s call his “Tom.”
Tom seemed like a nice elder guy who is retired. A few of my female former neighbors made a comment once about a year ago that they thought Tom looked creepy, but they didn’t actually know Tom, only saw Tom always standing on his porch looking out at everything, and I’ve learned to not judge a book by its cover.
Tom seemed polite and nice enough to me. We had a good rapport with me paying him to do small car repairs and maintenance checks on a pretty regular basis. I hadn’t needed to get anything done on my car in recent weeks, but Tom had told me before that if I ever needed work done, that I could call him and he’d charge me the same amount he’d charged me before, which was very reasonable and much less than if I took it to a shop.
Tom, his partner, and his twin granddaughters (who he and his partner are raising; I have the utmost respect for them doing this, as opposed to letting these little girls end up in foster care the way an ex-partner of mine did when his own relatives wouldn’t take him in after his mom died) have lived on my street for as long as I’ve lived here (6 years) and longer.
Before this neighbor worked on my car, I had bartered for my roommate (yes, the deadbeat non-paying roommate who I’m currently in the process of evicting in court) to do the car maintenance and small repairs but he then claimed he was no longer available because he was getting a job (which only lasted for 3 days), so he’s actually the one who referred me to Tom, who then spoke with me about the car stuff and agreed to do the work on my car.
Tom appreciated the dough he made from me because, according to my roommate, Tom and his lady have been struggling recently while he’s on fixed retirement, and his woman is working a post-retirement job to support their household.
I had an interview on Friday morning, yesterday. On Thursday early evening, I came home from work (on my occasional day shift that I’m lucky enough to switch for), and my deadbeat roommate Joe was hanging out with Tom, along with some younger Eminem-looking friend of Joe’s who is rumored to be a substance user, and the three of them were drinking beers together on Tom’s porch! Like, a lot of beers.
Empty beer cans were all along the railing of Tom’s porch. Tom isn’t even really a drinker to my knowledge. Tom hangs out on his porch frequently, but I’ve NEVER seen him drinking or leaving beer cans out.
Joe, his friend (we’ll call him Eminem for now?), and Tom were having a good ol’ time, oblivious or uncaring to my annoyance as I walked near to see what was going on.
Later that evening, I get some creepy pervy texts from Tom. I’ll admit this wasn’t the first time. Less than a week ago, he had sent me a text that was very obviously for his lady.
I was shocked but figured it was sent by accident. A minute or so later, he sent an apology text explaining that it was sent by accident. I never responded back in any way because I was embarrassed and felt awkward by it.
I actually silently told myself to give the benefit of the doubt, since it was very possibly an honest mistake, and to actually feel happy for him that he still has a spicy romantic life with his woman even after all these decades, since people tell me I need to start being a better person and feeling happy for others.
Well, now I see the thanks I get for trying to be a better person.
Last night after Tom was done drinking with my roommate Joe and Eminem, he sent me a few texts, asking if I had any hot single friends and saying things he wanted to do to my friends, and he’d like to watch me do stuff with my female friends! This time it was obvious the texts were NOT for his lady but me. I politely texted him back to please not text me like this and that he has a loving woman that he is betraying by sending this.
(I really, really despise adultery and attempts at adultery; plus, his partner is a nice lady who’s been through a lot. He responded that his lady won’t get it on with him and then he claimed she actually told him to go get a side piece! What on Earth?! So, I told him again firmly to never text me again and ceased all contact with Tom.)
I decided then and there to never ask him to do work on my car ever again.
He did text an hour or so after I ceased contact to apologize and say he was intoxicated earlier and doesn’t normally drink, but that despite this, he’s still interested in any friends of mine.
The next morning, I was getting ready for the interview, but my car would NOT start — same battery problem as before.
This has happened a few times before when I had to go to work, and Tom was always available to help me get my car started for a very cheap price.
But I felt I couldn’t ask Tom for help after what had happened. When I told my best friend about this, she had agreed that I should never talk to this man ever again after how he crudely disrespected both me and his lady and technically any hypothetical friends of mine too by extension.
So I was trapped with no way to get to the interview. I felt I shouldn’t ask my roommate Joe anyway since we are on non-speaking terms.
Plus, Joe was not home anyway. I couldn’t afford an Uber or cab when I’m now stuck waiting and paying to have my car towed to a shop to get worked on for full cost, and there wouldn’t be enough time to get there if I had to wait for a cab anyway. There were no friends available to help me because they were either at work, work from home, or don’t have cars.
I was stuck canceling out my interview.
At first, I tried to call to explain and cancel the interview, but the only number I had was to the main building for the branch where the interview was being held at, and no one answered, because it was during what’s typically off-hours for them. I had no phone number for the manager doing the interview, only an email address.
I emailed her a contrite apology, explained that I had car problems, even asking if a Zoom interview was an option.
She didn’t get back to me until apparently late last night, at which point she simply wrote back, “I had people come in from working from home for this interview.” A rather passive-aggressive response that shows that I burned my bridge and lost my chance. I found that email from her when I woke up this morning.
Great! So because of my already deadbeat roommate Joe getting this elder neighbor Tom wasted, and Tom handling his beer terribly by being a perv to me, I’M the one on the loser end, having to miss my interview and a possible chance to get out of the heckish dead-end job I have! I am so angry. I also feel like this is part Joe’s fault. I also wonder what stuff he told Tom about me for Tom to text me afterward like that. I feel like I will NEVER get another job!”