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My Year of CrazyAug 02 '02 Write an essay on this topic.The Bottom Line Lots of people are unbalanced, but why do they all have to live with me?? So help me God, this entire story is true. How I wish it weren't, but alas, it has made me a stronger person. How does that saying go? Whatever does not kill me, only prolongs the inevitable? My freshman year of college, I shared a suite with 5 other girls. The suite consisted of a small outer room where our desks were set up. Off the common are was a small bathroom with two sinks, a toilet and a shower. Also off the common area were two bedrooms, with three girls in each. All of these girls were my roommates, as we shared very close quarters. Most of them were certifiable, save one, who I was and still am very close with. Here is my tale of college woe. Please note that this information is not meant for the eyes of children. Names have been changed slightly to protect my own ass. ROOMMATES FROM HELL- A TRUE STORY Karen was an awkward girl from Philadelphia, PA, or "Philly" as she would call it. The first member of her family to go to college, she seemed nice enough, and was actually nice enough. The problems with Karen began the first week of school. We would invite her to join us to go to the movies, to go to parties, to go everywhere, basically, and she always declined. The reason? She wanted to talk to her boyfriend. Karen left behind her high school sweetheart, Tom, or Thaaam as she would pronounce it. To ease her suffering in being away from him, she would talk on the phone, all night. Our first phone bill was over $1,000. $930 of it was Karen's. She made good on her phone charges, though no one else in the room got much of a chance to use the phone. Ever. She would lie in bed, crying and talking to him until she went to sleep at around 9PM each night. The problem with this? She wanted total quiet and lights out at 9PM each night. No, I'm not kidding. Needless to say, we eventually had to level with her and let her know that the only way she would get some quiet time on a Friday night was to sleep in the hall. One night, a small group of us came home from a party and she was waiting for us, in tears. We were all mean to her, why did we hate her, we never invited her anywhere. The fact of the matter was that we had invited her everywhere, for weeks, and finally gave up trying to infuse the girl with a social life. We didn't hate her, we just didn't think of her anymore, unless the phone bill had arrived. Tom was coming to visit, and we hoped he would cheer her up. Meeting Tom was an experience. Imagine a short, overweight white kid with glasses, lots of gold chains and baggy pants. He was wearing a Starter jacket, and when he met a black couple I was friends with, he tried to do some sort of homie handshake, and actually said to Kevin "What up, Homes." Kevin handled it well- we watched him, thinking he might go ahead and give Tom the ass kicking he so obviously deserved, but he just laughed and went along with it. I think it amused him more than anything. Karen went home for Christmas and didn't come back. She missed Tom too much. I was pretty happy because my triple had become a double. The Lesson: No matter how miserable you might be when you go away, don't alienate yourself from the people who are trying to befriend you. If you do, you don't stand a chance. Also, if you can't stay up past nine, you may want to reconsider college, in general. Missy was probably my favorite horror-story roommate. Short and skinny with fine blond hair, bad skin, and eyes that looked as though they were perpetually watering, Missy is one of the "certifiable" roomies. Her main problem, was that she suffered from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and was also afraid of dirt. Really. The main problem area we had in dealing with her, was in the bathroom. She actually had her own toilet seat, and would change it, wearing latex gloves each time she needed to use the facilities, changing it back when she had finished. She had her own roll of toilet paper which she would keep in a ziplock bag. She would spray the shower with bleach after each of us used it, giving us all headaches and raw feet. If you were snacking on something at your desk, she would literally dustbust around your feet, making it impossible for you to relax. Poor thing, she¡¦s got an illness, right? Wrong. She was also a B*TCH! She nearly slapped me once, when she found a strand of my long brown hair on the bathroom floor and freaked. She called us all slobs, sluts and morons. She refused to stop using bleach, even though we asked her to find an alternative-- the bathroom was covered in it, and we were all feeling ill. Our one consolation is that Missy was the only one in our suite who had a car freshman year. Did I mention her drug habit? She would smoke pot, or take various downers until she passed out. Once she was "asleep" in her bed, we would steal her keys (okay,in all fairness, we stole her car as well) and made midnight Taco Bell runs. She never knew it ever happened. Finally, we had to speak to a RA about having her removed from the suite. It wasn't pretty. She screamed and called us all whores and slobs, and basically her behavior dug herself her own grave. She was transferred to another suite. One month later she was transferred from that suite. After the third set of suitemates had her booted, the college found her a small private room. The Lesson If you're crazy and you know it, clap your hands! Okay, now if you were just clapping, keep in mind that most people will be very receptive and understanding about whatever ails you, so long as you are honest and also understanding. If you are unable to live with others without tormenting them, then arrange for a private room in advance. Oh, and hide your car keys. Kristen was a pathological liar. We didn't know this at first, mind you, but we figured it out quickly enough. Pathological, you ask? Yes my friend, nothing that came out of this girl's mouth was the truth. Nothing. Here are a few examples of Crazy K , as we used to call her. Mind you, these were all things she was proud of. *Her nickname is Special K, because she used to deal it, until she was arrested for carrying an unregistered handgun over state lines at the age of 15, and put in Juvie, which was fortunate, because there was a mob hit out on her, and Juvie saved her ass. *Her ethnicity was either half: white/black, white/Hispanic, or white/Egyptian, depending on who she was talking to. *She had had a baby when she was 17, and given it up for adoption. (We had long talks about adoption before I realized this was a lie, so I was pretty peeved, as you might imagine, when I found out that the whole thing was a lie) * Her father wrote Friday the 13th. You get the gist? Girl was crazy. She also had a humorously inflated sense of self esteem. She once said to me, and I quote, because I shall never forget this, "You're so lucky you aren't as beautiful as I am, Annie. It's just more trouble than its worth, and people expect so much from you. Don't get me wrong, you have that sort of cute puppy dog look that some men find attractive." I'm not the most beautiful thing in the world, but if I have no doubt that I was thinner, kinder, prettier and smarter than her, so it was funny once the shock of what she had just said wore off. Think me conceited for saying that, but it's the truth. It really was funny, in a very surreal sense. Kristen stayed at Flagler for two years, then transferred to the University of Delaware. She now works for the government. I just realized how apropos that truly is. Lesson Don't believe everything you hear. If it sounds too strange to be true, it probably is. Sandra Was very, very pretty. She was also very spoiled and snobbish. One day, we were walking down the street in a small group, when a man bought a bouquet of flowers from a street vendor and ran up to her saying that the beauty of a flower could never be matched by that of a woman (yes, she was that pretty! and why does sh*t like that never happen to me??). She took the roses, looked the man in the eye, told him to drop dead, then dropped the flowers on the ground, and ground her heel into them as she walked away, and we followed, embarrassed. The first party we went to with her, she got absolutely plastered and threw-up on someone's Porsche, as we quickly hurried her away. She didn't like going to school in a small town, and wanted to go home. Her parents said no- a first for her. They felt she should stick it out for a year, and then she could come home of she wanted to. From then on, each week, we called an ambulance, as she had panic attack after panic attack. Don't feel badly for her, she was faking it. We just couldn't watch her hyperventilate until she really wouldn't be able to stop. Sometimes, she would call on a good-looking male RA to please come and take her to the hospital, which he would, of course. She also left after Christmas, though she did come back to school for a short tim, forced back by her parents. I think that the ER bills were starting to add up, so she got her way. Lesson No matter how attractive you may be, your personality does count. Your looks may have gotten you through high school, but it's going to take more than a pretty face to make it in the real world. Also, apparently hyperventilating until you really are hyperventilating is apparently an excellent way to meet men, and also get your way. Laura was a nice, pretty girl from Florida. She had a nice, pretty boyfriend. I had the least issue with her, but I have to say that they nice pretty girl was pretty tough at times, because she kept getting recurring urinary tract and kidney infections. Why? Too much rough sex. Yup, that's right! The girl was wild for it. The two of them were like little violent bunnies, apparently, and she wouldn't stop, even though the doctor told her that she was endangering herself. Mind you, I was a virgin at the time, so this was very interesting to me! So every other week, we'd take her to the hospital with intense back pain, or a high fever, because she had another infection. They moved off campus at the end of the year- our school had no interdorm visitation, and renting hotel rooms was getting pricey, and shagging in the great outdoors risky. Lesson: If you're having so much rough sex that you are causing physical damage to yourself, you need to cut back on the quantity or change the quality. If you can't do one of these things, then you are most likely a nympho, and should seek professional help. So that is a list of the people I lived with my freshman year. Did it make college miserable for me? In some ways, yes. In others, it made me realize that you have to be able to laugh at things beyond your control. When things go a little to far, talk to your Resident Advisor, or RA. If things get really out of hand, fake a panic attack.  |
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