Why I Need a Roommate Part 2
Photo by pusgums
Well, apparently Part 1, despite its overwhelmingly successful response, was unsuccessful in landing me a pad. You’d think people would be a little more caring to a guy whose current neighbors consist of an eighteen year old girl that runs her boyfriend(s?) over about once every other week and an old drunk that pretty much routinely bangs every party gal in a one mile radius in the back of his Caddy. I’m guessing his wife knows, just doesn’t give a shit. When I jog past her and she waves, somehow I feel an urge to get the fuck outta there and run Forrest run.
So on to Part 2.
Roommates. Now, it’s not so much that I’m extraordinarily uptight or picky, but rather I think some of the people I’ve run into are just not a good match, and some, what one would call “a douchebag”.
Like the guy who canceled on me and tried to reschedule because his date was so “hawt” that he dumped his girlfriend. If you’re wondering why I didn’t call you back, it’s one, because you’re a dickbag, and two, because I would inevitably come back shitrocked only to listen about how you miss the girl you dumped because she liked reverse cowgirl and gave blowjobs. My response would have probably have been something along the lines of, “you’re fucking depressing me, you’re killing my buzz, and you’re making me wish for a time before booze, sixth grade and the days of Nintendo”. And you probably would have punched me in the face.
And then the responses from alleged “drinkers” who have bragged about puking, and puking often. Look, drink fucking gasoline if you want, I don’t give a shit, but don’t brag about frequent puking you goddamn amateurs. Drinking and puking is like throwing an interception. Ya, we all know it happens, but realistically, you’re letting the team down and now everyone else has to deal with your mistake. Know what happens to a QB who throws too many interceptions? The bench. Puking should be reserved for those long, drunken nights after someone you realize you actually liked dumps your ass. That’s it.
Vegans- Well, you’re vegan, that’s great. Noble even. Still not sure what the fuck that really means or how much different it is from being a vegetarian. I could probably just wikipedia it, but to be honest, I simply don’t give a shit. You could just simplify it say “I’m vegetarian” because regardless of the differences, people will still react the same, in their minds; “Oh, odd hippie, got it”.
And to be honest, I like meat. Mostly chicken and cows. Yep. That’s right, eat that shit right down. Love fried chicken. Buffalo sauce too. Hell, maybe I am a vegetarian since I’m not too sure that the meat that makes it to the store was originally a chicken anyway, but fry that shit up and it’s tasty enough. Could be Soylent Green, who cares. And cows, let’s be honest, if we didn’t eat them, what else what they do? Imagine if they could talk? “Hey cow, whatcha doing today?” Cow: “Oh, I don’t know, probably stand around an shit”. Let’s be honest, if God didn’t mean for these things to be eaten, he wouldn’t have made them loaded with meat and lazy.
Musicians- it’s not so much that I’ve got anything against them, but if you’re going to rock out, at least be able to really rock out. Don’t suck. And replacing the typical living room with a drum set just scares the shit out of what a possible Sunday afternoon hangover could be like. If you like to play a little bit of guitar on a random afternoon and are good at it, great, but please, don’t have a soul patch. It pretty much says, “I don’t want to get laid”. Or possibly even, “I’ll lick your heels and you can use a strap-on”.
Druggies- To the druggies who contacted me: Look, I don’t care what you do behind your closed doors, I’m not really that judgmental, but just because I don’t really care if you sniff paint, eat glue, or make muffins mixed with chemicals under the sink doesn’t mean I fantasize about dangling dimebags of blow in front of chicks to get laid. Booze is enough of a vice for me. Christ, I once drank the majority of two thirty packs on a camping trip. My head barely recalls the pain, but my ass sure does. I dropped a deuce in a New Hampshire Dunkin’ Donuts so bad I’m pretty sure there’s a wanted poster there with a security cam mug shot of me. I don’t even want to imagine what me on drugs would be like.
Oh, and I know you probably missed the new “the more you know” commercial, but it generally cautions about randomly emailing people on craigslist to discuss drugs. Not the brightest.
Sustainability people- Great spirit, but you really need to watch Terminator 2. Arnie’s speech on the self-destructive nature of humans is pretty on point. The only way to sustainability for the earth is to wipe out the human race. But don’t worry, ol’ Kim Jong Il is already way ahead of you guys on that.
Yuppies- Yuppie people that have contacted me or repeatedly post, well, the short answer is, “we’re not a match”. Or go to a “benefit” which usually involves girls with annoying voices and shoes reminiscent of elf shoes babbling on about nonsense while guys that talk on the real world make me wonder why suicide is a crime.
Oh, and the one really cool chick who did contact me but the room was slightly more than I was looking to pay for considering my desire to leave my corporate job for something that pays less and is inherently more badass, you were damn cool. If you’re single, keep that attitude and have some standards. You’re a rarity.
So what I would like in apartment:
Washer/dryer, water, electricity, some level of parking (I don’t expect a convenient spot reserved but Christ an ability to park in a neighborhood that doesn’t require greasing a smart car like trying to get a fat woman through a door in order to parallel park). Relatively close to the T.
Why I’d make a good roommate: I’m relatively clean, mostly because I’ve been getting rid of all my material possessions. I’m the best weekend functioning drunk you’ve ever seen. My random benders are bound to consistently lead me on a variety of adventures that will give you the place all to yourself (Yes, I have woken up in other states at some points). No pets. Steady job, making probably more than I should. Excellent credit. No girlfriend, no crazy exes, and hell, don’t even get laid often (after reading this, shit, would you sleep with me?). So you won’t even have to deal with loud bouts of random sex after the bar. Bathe daily (twice if I ran that day). You’d think this should be a given, but you never know. My amazing asshole abilities will quickly drive away any annoying potential romance prospects that you quickly realize you do not want around. Oh, and last, but not least, no kids (that I’m aware of). Just kidding.
PS
At the rate my personality is going, ya’ll should be prepared to tune in about 2-3 weeks from now for Part 3.
