Daisy said..

Hi Roseline! I have a roommate story for you. I live in Canada and I've had many roommates: some good, some bad, but this last one (and her boyfriend who was more like a less attractive, more smarmy siamese twin) really took the cake. Here is the story, and names and places have already been changed. Oh, and let's just say my name is Daisy. Thanks!!! Pension pour chien

About a year ago, I was at a coffee shop with my friend Carol. There were absolutely no free tables around, but sure enough there was one selfish guy using up a table for 6 all to himself. He was just sitting there with a laptop, so we asked politely whether we could sit with him, and he responded with a shrug that said "yeah, I guess so." Carol and I sat down and began a long conversation, disregarding the fact that a stranger was right next to us. After a few minutes of talk, the gentleman began reacting to some of the things we were saying, and occasionally reacting to things he seemed to be looking at on his computer. Another few minutes later, he began chipping in on our conversation, wedging his way in "sneakily" like strange people often do. Eventually he just turned his computer around and began showing us poorly-taken photos of a giant fire, and people who were evidently his "friends" jumping over said fire on bicycles. Safe, right? Oh, the things teenagers do... but wait! This guy is at least 30! Anyway, he enthusiastically introduced himself: "HI, my name's Fez*!!! I live in WHISTLER*!!! Do you snowboard? You should come stay with me and we'll hit the mountain" etc. Carol and I were both a bit overcome by the man's oddly immature way of presenting himself and especially his admiration for the stupid acts of his fire-jumping friends. Fez eventually left the coffee shop, and Candice and I fought over who would NOT take the paper with his phone number that he had given us. Neither of us did (we left it on the table), and from that point on, Fez became the butt of all of our "I can't stand the men in this city" "Why don't you give Fez a call!!" inside jokes. A year later, long after Fez has been made fun of and forgotten, my roommate Mary shows up with her new boyfriend. She walks in the door, and there's Fez. I rush to my computer and e-mail my friend Carol, asking her to "please tell me that we were being overly judgmental when we first met him! Please tell me that he wasn't a huge creep, because I seem to recall him really rubbing me the wrong way when we met him." Carol, a very kind and tolerant young lady, responded by saying that "yes, he's a creep, but probably harmless." As the days went on, my roommate and Fez fell completely in love. The kind of love that cannot possibly exist after only several days or weeks. They began to spend all of their time together, and when they were not together (or when they were in separate rooms), they sent each other loving msn messages and wrote each other extremely cliché poetry on Myspace comments (think..."I thought I knew what love was, but then I met you"). Because Fez lived in Whistler, our apartment became his new home. This guy went from being a creep at a coffee shop, to my new and certainly not welcome roommate. He did not become more endearing throughout this forced-get-to-know process; rather, I began to find him more and more creepy as I'd watch him attempt (on a daily basis) to scratch my dog's hind quarters in attempt to get my dog to "lick his pee pee", and as I'd listen to the inane and often disgustingly sexual (considering the people involved) conversations between the two of them. He was there every minute of every day, aside from when he was driving my roommate to her classes, waiting for her, and then bringing her back. Slowly but surely, this began to wear on my nerves, as well as the nerves of my landlord and my other roommate. After several warnings, both by my landlady and by the two of us roommates who are sick of seeing Mary and Fez all over the house, Fez was restricted to only two days of living with us, per week. Did the two lovebirds follow these rules? No. Instead, Mary snuck Fez in, sometimes through her bedroom WINDOW, every night. They hid his shoes in their room so that we "wouldn't know" that he was there, and on occasion he'd hide in her room for a full day while she went out to do various things that people who aren't freeloaders do. Whenever they thought we didn't know he was there, we knew. Besides, we could just assume he was there, because he always was. When the landlady finally gave Mary notice to vacate the apartment within two months, Mary broke down about how hard it is for her to love Fez so much and yet never be able to spend enough time with him. It somehow came as a shock to her, that the landlady was finally putting her foot down about this extra tenant. Mary cried, layed blame, and hurled insults at everyone but herself, despite the fact that she was the one who broke the rules that she had agreed to; she was the one being deceitful; she was the one irrationally in love with a 30 year old man with the mental capacity of a 14 year old; she was the one who didn't take advantage of the 3+ chances she was given by us actual rent-paying roommates; she brought it on herself. Mary insisted that her boyfriend (the equivalent to the man-on-the-couch in Half Baked, only smarmier and a lot more nauseating) was not living here the whole time, but her final words to my other roommate, as she solidified her date of moving out were: WE'LL move out by November 30th. Good riddance to bad roommates and worthless freeloaders! *names and places changed to protect the stupid

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