This all occurred last year before I transferred schools. I stayed at attended a deeply Christian/Baptist school for a year before I moved out. I lived in an apartment-like building on campus with three other girls. At first they seemed totally normal with just a few odd quirks. Such as I needed a tampon and asked one of my housemates. She replied she doesn’t wear tampons because tampons are like having sex. Yeah, I didn’t get it either. However, as the school year progressed, things took a turn for the worst.

It all started with the disappearing macaroni cups. One girl exclaimed that her macaroni cups were mysteriously disappearing and one day, when we were all at class, she took the liberty of going through our rooms in search of the “food bandit”. I called her out and she denied it completely even after being caught in the act. Now all the girls became completely anal over their possessions. They would count their granola bars, silverware, post-its (yes I’m serious) each night and check them in the morning. To this day I’m not sure who stole the items, but yay for them for creating complete chaos.

During the middle of the semester after a night of partying I came home slightly tipsy and fell asleep instantly on my bed. Around 3 a.m. one of the girls bursts into our room, turns on the lights, yelling and demanding to know which one of us used her washcloth because it was damp. She was in hysterics and I’m half asleep. My roommate is on her bed like a deer in the headlights looking at me. I’m like GET OUT! We’re trying to sleep you psycho! OK, clearly I could have been way nicer and I felt bad the next day. However, it was 3 a.m. and I had been drinking and was very tired. When I woke up I thought I dreamed it. I asked my roomie and she laughed and said, “Ohhhhh no, it happened.”

I wasn’t spoken to very much after this happened because said girl had turned all the other girls against me. At this point we were toward the end of the semester. The university’s events are focused on getting boys and girls to hook up because most people here, including my housemates are obsessed with getting married. There is one event where a boy asks a girl to spend the weekend with them and go on dates. My housemates went ecstatic over this event. They held prayer sessions in our living room and talked about this 24/7. When it came time for the event they all got asked and made it very clear to me they did and I didn’t. Probably because I spent 3/4 of my time not at school or my apartment so I didn’t talk to any guys or most people there.

They called their families screaming and told them they got asked and told them everybody in our apartment got asked BUT me, right in front of me. For most of them this was their first date ever. Now granted, I never wanted to go to this in the first place and I’m not just saying this because I wasn’t asked, but I didn’t care for the student body in general. The parents came over to meet the guys for reasons I’ll never understand. My housemates would say, “she’s the girl who wasn’t asked.” Or the parent’s would ask me if I was asked and one of my housemates would cut me off and announce loudly that nobody asked me in front of their dates and parents. I felt pretty crappy at this point.

Around this time I was continually yelled at for being “scantily dressed”. One of the girls decided I wasn’t allowed to answer the door anymore because of what I wore. I thought shorts and a tank top were perfectly acceptable to walk around my own place in. Apparently not. Their parents also complained about my attire and would tell me that my body is a temple and boys don’t like girls who dress like me. I didn’t even wear anything bad. Apparently jeggings and a sweater or T-shirt was completely unacceptable. Before I’d leave my room one of my housemates would ask me if I was decent, meaning if I was decently dressed. At this point I was fed up and was hoping the problem would eventually solve itself. It didn’t and I moved out and attended the school as an off campus student.

I don’t know what made me possibly made me think I could live with six girls during my freshman year of university. I attend a very Christian University. I can’t start to describe what it’s like here. I’m on overflow housing in the sophomore houses so it’s hard to change housing options. One of the girls already moved out yesterday, the only one who was on my side, stood up for me and I liked. I’m leaving at the end of the semester. Let’s just say I’ll sum it up like this. I’m not allowed to listen to rap music because it’s the devil’s music. They have an open door policy when using the bathroom so I walked in on one girl today taking a dump. They also talk about poop all the time! There’s period blood and poop around the toilet and when I brought it up I was called a princess. They talk to me behind my back about me stealing things because I do my homework at the suite but I never leave my room and most of the stealing occurred around the weekend when I wasn’t here, I never stay here on weekends. The reason me and my roommate don’t have stuff stolen from us is because we lock our things up.

I got yelled at for apparently using a girl’s hand towel which she left hanging over the shower and it fell in the tub. However, I thought hand towels were a universal thing anyways….apparently not. She found a black hair in her drawer while putting away her laundry and exclaimed the hair was mine, while yelling at me that I was going through her stuff. Well girl, maybe you shouldn’t leave your laundry in the laundry room sitting out for four hours. Yesterday one of the girls found one of her Dixie cups in the trash can and flipped out. I seriously thought the world was going to end the way she went on and basically had a witch hunt to see who used it. I was Skyping last night and I hear this intense bawling coming from outside so I run out to see what happened and my suite mates are around the girl comforting her and I exclaim what’s wrong and she’s like I just can’t be good enough for god, I know this kid and he’s so close to god and I’m just so depressed I can’t be like him. She’s in hysterics and can’t calm down so I go back in my room and I’m like did this just happen……this was the girl who tries to tell me how I need more faith in my life, like don’t tell me how to practice faith girl.

One of the girls is a total hippie and grabbed my Jif peanut butter from me because she said it has MSG in it along with all my other food and gave me a lecture on MSG and described her bowl movements in detail on what happens when she eats MSG. It’s gotten so bad I’ve had to contact the guy in charge of housing to help control this. So this is my story, there’s much more that has happened but I feel this is the just of it.

MVWR was a girl that I lived with my junior year of college. Lets call her M. After transferring to a new school, I had decided to live in the dorms in order to meet new friends. However I ended up having to live with the most annoying, “OCD”, territorial and passive aggressive person I have ever met.

I had arrived first to move in to the dorms so I was pretty much already settled in when M moved in later. This girl was a petite blonde who liked the Ed Hardy/Jersey Shore Douche look. She also had the loudest voice I have ever heard! Now, I’m not a slob and I did some initial cleanup/sanitatition upon moving in to the apartment; but M went crazy with the cleaning. She scrubbed down all the walls, doors and doorknobs. She also cleaned both of the bathrooms including mopping. At first I thought it would be nice to live with someone so clean, but it did not turn out so great.

A week later, M asked me and the other roommate (X, who is a MVWR story all of her own) if one of the bathrooms could specificly belong to her while both of us shared the other one.  At first I said no, because it did not make any sense since there were three of us, and what if someone needed to use the bathroom while someone was in it etc. These logical statements made M burst into tears and cry/sniffle about how “it wasn’t respectful.” So we ended up letting her use the small bathroom while we used the big one.

A month into living with M, I noticed that her “OCD cleaning problem” appeared to not be a real issue because M was actually a very messy person! She would make ramen with my pots and never clean after (even though she somehow managed to burn the ramen and thus the pan). She would also clip her toenails on the living room coffee table and never clean it up. Gross! Then there was “her” bathroom. It was utterly disgusting, with the toilet never flushed, dust everywhere, used tampons on the floor etc. There were also red lipstick kiss marks on the mirror that were a bitch to clean off later.

The last problem was her psychotic ex-boyfriend, who shall be called Duke. She had broken up with him because he had abused her, so I have no idea why she would get back with him. The climatic moment was one morning when they got into a fight and Duke shoved M up against a wall. Somehow something glass was shattered, I found tiny shards of glass right in the hallway for months after.

Eventually X and I filed a police report against Duke because of his violent behaviour (he would try to start fights with us over imagined slights, even if we were sleeping or our doors were closed) and this was the final straw for M. She finally moved out, but never really cleaned up after herself and also left about 20 huge nails in the wall from pictures. We calculated that M probably got fined about $2,000 for her apartment damages.

My Very Worst Roommate actually was the roomie of a friend of mine. Considering I was a part of the worst time to transpire, I figured I’d submit. My friend S was living in a college apartment with three other roommates. They all got along reasonably well at first but it did not take long to realize one of the roommates, we’ll call her J, had quite a drinking problem. She was known to cook some pretty peculiar things up in the kitchen and one of the other roommates, C had become a bit upset when J had continuously used metal on her brand new Teflon pots and pans. This left them scratched and ruined so she had asked J to pay in order to replace them. This created some hostility between the two, especially as they shared a room together.

A few nights later it was Kerry/Bush election night and I was at S’s watching coverage on TV. C was gone for the evening at her boyfriend’s. J came home from dinner and drinks and was obviously extremely drunk. She began to rant and rave about how upset she was that Bush was probably going to win and declared that she was going to call her dad. We abruptly unplugged the phone without her noticing and she attempted to call several times insisting that the phone was broken. She intermittently seemed to believe she was on the other line with someone and continued on her tirade while stopping occasionally to hit the phone violently screaming that it was a piece of shit.

When she finally gave this up she went into her room and we all hoped she was headed to bed. Shortly after we heard a loud banging and S went to check on her. She had managed to kick a giant hole in the wall and when S confronted her she looked at with shock and proclaimed, “Holy moly, S! There’s a hole in my wall. How the hell did that get there?!” She marched into the kitchen and began to yell how C was a bitch and how she didn’t think she should have to pay to replace the pots and pans she’d ruined. She grabbed these pots and pans and began throwing them around their bedroom until the handle broke off of one. J admitted she was beginning to feel a bit unwell from her night of binge drinking. She then went to C’s bed and screamed “This is what I think of this stupid bitch!” and intentionally vomited all over her sheets and comforter. We looked on in horror and begged her to stop.

Shortly after she got a phone call from a friend saying that an old friend of hers from home had passed away. This sent J into a crying spell and she insisted she needed to get into the shower. She was in there for quite a while and just as we thought we might have to bust in to make sure she was alright she emerged in her towel. She went straight for C’s comforter and took it to the bathroom sink. She said she felt sorry she had thrown up all over it and proceeded to try to clean it in the tiny sink. This accomplished nothing and instead just soaked the already dirty, disgusting comforter. S managed to get it away from her and we put it outside.

J was ready for bed by this point but insisted she couldn’t stay in her room due to the smell. S decided to keep an eye on her for the night as she slept on the floor of the living room. S woke up to J dry heaving and then spitting in her shoes. C was very upset when she came home to see her comforter hanging outside covered in vomit. The school removed J from the apartment after that and a couple years later I learned she moved back home after having a baby.

MVWR was truly one-of-a-kind. We lived together for a little over three years in college, with one year actually sharing a room.

She was a party girl and constantly vomited all the time from excessive alcohol consumption. She threw up in my other roommate’s car, on my side of the room, the bathroom floor, on our couch, and on the ground numerous times. She never offered to clean up. When we confronted her about controlling her alcohol intake more, she said she doesn’t throw up THAT much.

At 6:00AM one morning, she opened the freezer to find that there were a few missing sausages that she bought. Instead of waiting for a more appropriate hour, she stormed into my other roommate’s room, woke up the entire apartment, and screamed at her for stealing her sausages. After my roommate said she didn’t take them, she called her MOTHER to vent (please note that MVWR was 20 at the time). It turned out that my other roommate had accidentally dropped the sausages when getting something else out of the freezer and threw them away because the ground was gross at the time. MVWR never apologized.

A few other quirks included judging other people if they weren’t a Christian, proclaiming “purity” but would perform sexual acts on countless guys, performing a sexual act with a guy IN MY OTHER ROOMMATE’S BED, believing her boyfriend when he said “the Bible says you can have premarital sex as long as you know the person,” being ungrateful if someone didn’t give her a gift up the her standards, buying fast food chicken nuggets and freezing them instead of eating them (I never understood that one), blaming ME for running over the curb when picking me up from somewhere, and throwing a tantrum and said we weren’t good friends because she shouldn’t have to pay the late fees on our energy bill (she never had paid her share of the bill… which is why we got the late fees).

But the final straw came when I came back from my summer break to discover her boyfriend’s USED condom on MY desk, along with several empty wrappers. When confronting her about this, she said she didn’t know how they got there and that her boyfriend just flung the wrappers all over the place. I told her how disrespectful it was, not to mention unsanitary. We stopped talking to each other and a week later found another used condom in a water bottle on my desk. She moved out of the apartment soon after.

MVWR was a friend I met in the dorms this past year. I always wondered why her roommate couldn’t stand her and treated her so poorly. I found out. We moved in a two bedroom apartment, which I found by myself and it was a joint lease. So when we moved in, she immediately suggested we take bubble baths together and have sleepovers in each others rooms. NO!

Then we went to Walmart to shop for apartment appliances. We needed a microwave, toaster, silverware, trashcan, trash bags–all the things that are “joint” purchases for the whole apartment. My part of the total was $300. She said, “Oh well I’ll let your take care of this stuff and I’ll decorate the apartment.” At first, I left it, not wanting to create a fight but was hoping she’d pay me back half. So three weeks later, she paid me (barely) half back. Then came grocery shopping time and she told me that I should buy the groceries and she would drive us to Walmart. The mega store is less than a mile away and we have a free bus and I again said no. She constantly ate my food, used my detergent and didn’t pay for anything. She said I should pay the electricity and she pay cable. I wanted to split it, but she refused to give me her Social Security number, so I couldn’t put her name on the electricity.

So by October, we were falling out. I already didn’t like her too much. She was obnoxious. She would beat on my door constantly when I tried hiding from her and would always invite herself to where ever I went. I never liked hanging out with her and there about 10 people at the university that liked her. She stopped paying her rent and since it was a joint lease, we were equally responsible. My rent was paid in advance so she used my surplus to cover up her lack of payments. There was nothing the apartment people can do, nor did they care.

She has now left for the summer and I’m sure she’s going to screw the people she signed a lease with next year because she’s not coming back. She didn’t have money issues–she just wanted to screw me over.

Where to even begin.

My junior and part of my senior year of college, I lived in off campus, with two other girls in a two bedroom apartment. M had one room to herself and K and I shared the other. K’s Boyfriend stayed over on a regular basis. I should probably mention that K was not exactly fat, but she was bigger, had huge breasts and was rather intimating. The Boyfriend was just plain fat, lazy and sloppy. Not that I had a problem with their appearance, but visualization adds to the story.

The two loved to have sex. All the time. Very, very loudly and not discretely. That was fine with me, I understood we were in college and living in close quarters. However, I had to draw the line when they began to have sex each and every night while I was trying to (but not yet) asleep. One night, I had to wake up pretty early for class the next day. I was trying to fall asleep to the cacophony of their intercourse, and thought I might be able to just wait it out. But no, the Boyfriend continued to mount K and huffandpuff his way towards an epic climax until I became so fed up/revolted/mortified that I sat up in bed and yelled, “CAN YOU PLEASE STOP?” They did, and the next day I asked her face to face that they please not have sex while I was in the room. She agreed and apologized.

Yet, lo and behold, that very night, a repeat occurred. Again, I had to be up very early and could not sleep due to their noise. This time, I didn’t bother to yell anything. I just got up, still in my pajamas and stormed out the door, locking myself out without shoes, keys or a cell phone. I didn’t even bother trying to go back inside. After all, it was better to be barefoot in the cold than listen to K and the Boyfriend have sweaty sex. Instead, I walked to my best friends apartment a few blocks away and crashed on her couch. Many, many nights of sleeping on that couch were the follow.

But the climax of the Great Tale came about one day in early December. I came back to my apartment to shower and change and when I arrived at my bedroom door, it had a note on it that said:  ”DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR OR SHUT THE WINDOWS. THE ROOM IS INFESTED WITH SCABIES AND ONLY THE COLD WILL KILL THEM.” As I stood there pondering it for a second I came to the conclusion that they must be making fun of me. So I opened the door and closed the windows since it was 20 degrees outside. I took a shower and when I came back to my room, the door was closed again, with a new note above the first that read, “WHAT ARE YOU STUPID? KEEP THE DOOR SHUT”.

Again, I opened it, changed and got out of there. I had to find out from a third party, our neighbors, that my bedroom was in fact infested with scabies. The neighbors then proceeded to tell me that K was also going around telling all of our neighbors and friends that I was the one who had brought the scabies into the house, because I was so dirty. She was referring to my pile of laundry I left by my bed on the floor on my side of the room.

I was fairly certain  I wasn’t the one to bring scabies into the house since I was only there about five minutes every few days and didn’t have bug bites all over me like they did. But just in case, I went to the doctor to be absolutely sure. Of course, I was not afflicted and when I asked him if they could have been bred in my dirty laundry he burst out laughing, and told me that the bugs needed a warm and moist place to breed. I mused if the constant sweaty sex in the room could help keep them alive and he told me that type of setting was exactly what scabies thrived on.

There was no way in hell I was leaving my personal items in there with K and her scabies-ridden boyfriend. My mom drove down to my apartment with garbage bags to help me move. She walked into my house to a living room full of the Boyfriend’s friends smoking weed. The Boyfriend turns to her and says, “Hey, Mrs. B, you want to hit this blunt?” Granted, she didn’t really get upset over it, but I found that deeply disrespectful. She helped me gather my clothes and bedding and on her way out, noticed K and the fat sloppy Boyfriend wrapped up together in a blanket my Grandma had knit for me.  My mother held open a garbage bag and said, “Give me that blanket my mother knit for my daughter.” K went to hand my mom the blanket and my mother recoiled and told her, “I don’t want to get scabies. Put it in the bag.” It was the first time I ever saw K intimidated by someone else.

I didn’t go back much until the day I had to move out the last of my belongings. I had found an apartment with a stranger a few blocks away, and could move my few items by hand. I had spoken with the landlord who told me it was fine I move out. I recruited my best friend and another guy to help me carry the bed, desk and dresser. As we were walking up the stairs to my bedroom, I already heard the moaning. Yet the door was slightly ajar. And I wasn’t about to wait for the Boyfriend to finish. I knocked and opened the door simultaneously to a total eclipse of the most horrific scene I’ve ever witnessed. Flab on flab, smacking against each other. They saw us and did not stop. My friends stood beside me, flabbergasted.

I just walked in and started grabbing boxes, the whole time, the Boyfriend yelling, “You’re blowing up my spot, You’re blowing up my spot!” I ignored it and my friends tried their best to. K and the Boyfriend finally stopped and went into the bathroom to shower together, and began to move my bed. Behind it, I saw a used condom stuck to my wall. I hadn’t had sex in that apartment the entire time because I had been there so little. I was horrified. I grabbed several tissues, peeled the dirty condom off the wall and left it on K’s pillow. I thought she’d appreciate the memento.

About six months later, after I had already graduated and moved back in with my parents, I received an email with a long list of charges I owed them. These included six months rent,  and electricity, gas and cable bills for the months after I left. I ignored it because it was too ridiculous to warrant an answer. In the end, K got the landlord on her side. Since I was still technically on the lease until July, and the landlord conveniently forgot our hour long conversation in which he gave me verbal permission to leave, I had to end up paying roughly $900 out of my savings to pay for what ended up being the Boyfriend’s rent.

My Very Worst Roommate odyssey began when a guy on my floor of the freshman dorm asked me to room with him the following year. He was having problems finding a roommate partly because he had gotten a job as an RA and was assigned to the most destructive floor of a well-known all-male party dorm at our college. We got along well and he was entertaining character so I figured what the hell? As it turned out, hell was exactly what was waiting for me.

A month or so into our happy living situation it became apparent that what I thought were fun quirks were actually surface indicators of a fascinating personality disorder. This kid–let’s call him “K”- was a mess to begin with and the pressures of college life made him slowly dissolve like a jello in the hot hot sun. Let’s begin with his experimentations with alcohol which were disastrous to say the least. I never knew this was a real problem for some people until that year, but K had a serious issue with sleepwalking and would frequently (whenever he drank) wander into the hallway in the middle of the night and urinate indiscriminately, sometimes in many directions like a sprinkler, often returning to the wrong room and passing out in the beds of the residents he was supposed to be responsible for.

He also had a penchant for drunk booting; he usually preferred sinks but one night he got queasy in bed and puked from the top bunk down onto my computer. He used my favorite hooded sweatshirt to clean it up and threw the poor thing behind a closet door where I found it months later on that joyous day when I finally moved out. On another memorable evening after K had attended a particularly raucous frat party I returned to our room and turned on the light to find him naked, on his back, in a classic spread eagle pose on our couch (which I never sat in again.) Why oh why did I flip that light switch? I almost wish I could go back in time and blind myself first.

Next lets discuss the “Abtronic.” You may remember seeing this device advertised on TV back in the day- it was essentially a felt pad with electronic nodes that you would strap around your waist to purportedly shock your stomach muscles into shape. K ordered his Abtronic before spring break in order to “firm up his hot abs” and for a month or so would wear the thing around the room in his boxer briefs, shocking himself to prep for the ladies. I would invite people over just to have witnesses for what I was dealing with here.

Also, as is true with most VWRs, K was an utter slob. While obsessive about his own outward appearance to the point of obsession, he turned the room into a trash pit to the point where we even had cockroaches in the spring. Just as one example of the man’s tidy habits: he once left several packages of chicken breasts in his dormitory fridge and accidently unplugged it over break so that when we came back the room smelled like rotting chicken for weeks. You could actually smell it a quarter mile or so before you got to the building but I knew right away it had to be coming from our room–our friend K at work. He tried to clean it out and cover the smell by using bleach which only morphed the stench into something astronomically worse… yup I got to know the rest of campus pretty well that year.

Unfortunately when I was in the room I also had a front row seat for K’s blossoming sexual exploration as well. He was considerate about not locking me out of the room, and instead if I would return home from somewhere late at night he would sometimes stuff the girl he was hooking up with under his sheets up on the top bunk, pretend he was alone, wait (for three minutes or so) until he decided I was asleep and then resume his awkward thrusting and moaning, He literally lost his virginity early in the first semester about four feet from my face.

Meanwhile, the other residents on the floor grew to hate K, not just because he made their hallway smell like piss but also because of his obnoxious swagger (yup you’re picturing him correctly–he’s one of those guys that pops the collars of their pink polo shirts and constantly refers to themselves in the third person) and the fact that he took his RA job just barely seriously enough to spoil their fun antics by preventing them from raping drunk girls and tearing sinks out of the walls. He referred to them as “the mob” and was convinced they were conspiring against him and plotting to do him physical harm (he was right).

Eventually, having lost any hope for respect, he gave up on fulfilling any of his responsibilities and would hide out from the residents in our room, turning off the lights and pretending no one was there if they knocked on our door to get let into their rooms or borrow the floor’s vacuum cleaner. He was finally fired from the RA job when another RA (his arch nemesis from another frat) came across him crawling out a window to escape being caught in a dorm room party with an illegal keg. Well done dude… another of America’s future leaders caught squirming through the cracked walls of academia.

The only upside to this whole situation was that it used to win me sympathy from women on campus. K was relatively well-known because in addition to his terrible reputation for being overly aggressive with females he was also interfraternity council chair or president or something stupid like that, so if any girl happened to hear that he was my roommate they would give me this deeply sympathetic look as if I just told them my new puppy had bone cancer. Perhaps the most amazing part of his behaviour was the fact that for years he would retell some of these stories in front of other people as if they were things I had done to HIM instead of the other way around (like for example- “hey slapnuts remember that time you booted on my computer and used my favourite hoodie to clean it up?”) No, slapnuts- but remember that time I powned you on My Very Worst Roommate with a full posting of the truth…?

Well anyways I ended up surviving the year, and amazingly enough 10 years later, K is still one of my best friends although I will never, ever share a room with him again in any capacity. As for the Abtronic, you can probably find it on Ebay along with his dignity.

MVWR was the girl I was randomly assigned to live with in my freshman year in college. We connected pretty well on Facebook, having similar interests in music, games, and places. She seemed perfect, until I went to move in on the first night.

I’m a very light sleeper. N would blare her music so loud (admittedly through earphones) that I could hear the lyrics clearly although I was about three feet away. I would tell her that I was going to sleep and she would stay up all night playing loud music and taping the keys on her laptop, desk light on the whole time. When she finally did go to bed, she snored like a train, to the point where I could hear her through earplugs! Naturally, I didn’t get much sleep. I asked her to buy a snore-preventing mouth-guard or something, and she would say that she would, but then complained that she had no money. As an Asian American student, she received scholarships and her parents paid for her tuition, but she refused to get a job to pay for anything she needed. I worked full-time on top of going to school, got no scholarships, and was paying my own tuition.

N would make these noodles that smelled like cat pee every day, using my coffeepot, and never refill the water she used or spraying air freshener. Every time I went to use my pot, there was no water inside. The cat pee smell only got worse, until I realized that she wasn’t showering either. Thankfully, I now transferred to a different school and live with a roommate who is fantastic and we get along great, but I will never forget the hell semester I spent with N.

MVWR was the only roommate I ever had while attending college. Let’s call her D. I had spoken to her once before we moved down to start college. She agreed to bring an iron, mini fridge, and her computer. I agreed to bring, a TV, microwave, and an ironing board. She was in the band and so got to school two weeks before the incoming freshman arrived. We were paired to live in the smallest dorm on campus because it was considered housing for ‘Honor Female Students’ which by the way she kept study habits I found hard to believe that she had gotten into that dormitory.

One of my issues with D was that she would always invite her band mates back to our room after they had a long practice in the humid Southern heat. The only seating available was her bed, a computer chair, and my bed. I didn’t mind so much her band mates being there except for on several occasions I walked in from class to always find the fattest, sweatiest, band mate sitting on my pillow. The only pillow that I had where I laid my face on. I would usually leave and go to common area downstairs until they left. Not to mention that one of her band mates kept stealing my utensils. Over time, D’s hygiene and sloppiness really shined through. Being that there were only 16 girls on our floor, in a weeks time you would run into at all of the girls in the shower. No one ever saw her in the shower.

I didn’t think much of it until one morning I woke up to a weird sound. I opened my eyes and to my horror I saw D wiping her vagina with a baby wipe. And when she realized that I saw her, she just stared me down until I rolled over and pretended to go back to sleep. Her smell got so bad that even her band mates started calling her “Spoiled Milk.” One day I walked in from class only to find her wiping her vagina again and this time she had left a brown-stained baby wipe in front of my microwave. I told her to pick that shit up or we were going to have problems. On top of that she had a boyfriend who was a pothead and spent every possible moment he could in our room. To make matters worse, he smelled just like her.

As the year progressed, her side of the room became unbearable to look at. Unfortunately, the computer was on her side and so I had to suck it up and sit over there to do reports. I sat down to do a report one day when I felt something on my leg. I looked down real quick and thought that it was her windbreakers rubbing on my leg. I took a second look to find the biggest daddy long legs I’d ever seen. I screamed and ran out. All her filthiness had worn out my patience and by the end of the first semester we weren’t speaking to each other.

But that didn’t stop her from helping herself to my food in her fridge (that was clearly labeled) and my pantry as well as moving my TV to her side of the room because as she put it, “It looks better on my side.” After a few weeks of going back and forth, I’d had enough. She had just purchased books for the new semester and had complained that she spend $572 for four books. I sold them and made $350. It was the least I was due for putting up with her ‘Spoiled Milk’ smell and pothead boyfriend.