Underneath It All
My Very Worst Roommate would wear “tighty whitey” underwear around the house. That doesn’t sound so bad, but let me explain. These were neither tight nor exactly white any longer. They were a dingy grey color and were strategically attached to the not-so-elastic waistband in three places. Didn’t matter who was there at the apartment. Once they were on he would roam freely throughout the common areas. My girlfriend offered to buy him some new underwear at one point. He declined explaining that his were more comfortable. We went to a theme park and invited MVWR and his girlfriend. He showed up in a threadbare tank-top, cut-off jean shorts and the “Bat-Belt”. The “Bat-Belt” was otherwise a normal leather belt but it contained: his phone, a pager (Pager?!!!! Really?!!!! Seriously, who carries a phone and a pager? No, he’s not a doctor) a Ham Radio, (yes, I said a Ham Radio) a big freakin’ folding lockblade knife, (which he reluctantly had to go put back in the car) and…the kicker, a scientific calculator. Still to this day do not know why anyone would need a scientific calculator at Six Flags.
There are numerous water rides there. MVWR would have nothing to do with them because of the burden of being the only one in the park with a calculator that could handle exponential functions and being able to radio those calculations to….well, someone that cares. In fact, most rides were off limits due to fear of losing equipment (ironically not Batman the Ride). His girlfriend seemed to understand this  for some reason. It’s no suprise that we did not invite MVWR to New Orleans with us. I came back from New Orleans very hungover and sleepy on the red-eye. I fell face down in my bed with the plan to sleep for at least 12 hours. Except I keep hearing this “clack” and “slurp” sound from the pathetically small living/dining room immediately adjacent to my bedroom. I went to investigate. There was MVWR in his special “comfortable” underwear (sans Bat-Belt) eating Cap’n Crunch cereal out of a saucepan with a wooden spoon. He spoke first:
“You haven’t been doing your share of the dishes.”
“I’ve been in New Orleans,” I said. “We discussed this. Have you not done any dishes while I was gone?”
“It’s not my job,” he said.
When I went into the kitchen, every dish we owned was piled in the sink. Â Apparently, in my absence I should have “arranged” for someone else to do the dishes.
A ham radio? I guess I’m picturing Great Uncle Eustace’s ham radio that was nailed to his wall and had the 40′ antenna attached to his shed.
Here’s how to handle the dishes getting done. Make him a chore chart: take a giant poster of Batman and carefully cut Batman out. Paste Batman to a piece of poster board. Then, all around the border write numbered dots. When he does a dish, he gets to make a “chart move” by connecting one dot to another. Oops, forgot…the dots are randomly “starred,” so, in addition to the thrill of making a chart move on his Batman chart, if the next dot is a star he also gets a treat: something like a handful of jelly beans, or maybe new batteries for his radio. You could also get him to help you with a random number generator by using his calculator. The chore chart should work great! It works great for my girlfriend’s six year old and it sounds like this guy is about on that level.
Wow. Just wow. It’s so funny that he was prepared for anything (imaginary, that is) yet in reality, prepared for nothing.
Also, did you point out that “your share of the dishes” implies that he had his own share? Did that mean (in his mind) that you were responsible for doing half of any dishes dirtied, whether or not you in fact dirtied any of them personally? In that case, wouldn’t that logically mean that he also “hadn’t been doing his share of the dishes?” I guess that’s something that’s tough to figure out on a scientific calculator.
When I read the part about the dishes my blood pressure rose. Thank you, OP, for effectively pissing me off (though not to the extent that you were).
where do these assholes all come from?
Win for Tronner.
And this roommate sounds like Hell on Wheels. And yay for a Houstonian post! I haven’t been to Six Flags in ages (obviously), but I am laughing about this MVWR’s fanny pack full of useless crap. I would have left him waiting while I rode the Dungeon Drop and Batman Returns.
gross…i also wonder where people like this come from?
Where do they come from, and can we send them back?
Waaaiiit…the most important question is…this guy had a GIRLFRIEND?