Dude, do you smoke weed?
March 2nd, 2009 12:52am by admin
My biggest fear before I started my first year at college was that my roommate would be a complete stoner. Like I told my mother, I didn’t care if he smoked or stuff, as long as it didn’t have to enter my space and become my problem. However, my greatest fear soon became a reality. When I was alone with my roommate for the first time, no more than 2 minutes passed by when sure enough he asks “Dude, do you smoke weed?” Me, somewhat surprised, answered no, to which he responded by telling me that it was ‘chill’ and that he was a “patient”, so it was all cool because he had a card. There is really nothing I could say to that. It wasn’t like it was illegal. So I told him that I didn’t really want to know it was in the room. He didn’t really say anything, just told me not to freak out if I saw him rolling a joint when I walked into the room. Over the course of the next few days, my room began smelling strange. Up to this point I really had no idea what marijuana smelled like, but evidently my room smelt like it. No offense to anybody out there that enjoys smoking, but that has to be one of the absolute awful smells in the world. Every time I walked into my room I felt nausea, the smell hit me like a wall of bricks. I confronted him about it the first time and he took on the attitude like he was going to do what he wanted to do and I wasn’t going to stop him. In short, the smell remains to this day. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he seems like he was raised in a barn, he is the filthiest person I have ever met. There is food on his side of the room on the floor, dust all over everything, he throws all his stuff on the ground, leaves his shit all over the place. He seems to think my desk is his desk becomes sometimes I will find his crap on my desk, as well as milk from where he made his cereal that he neglected to wipe up. He leaves crap in the fridge, old cheese and fruit that I end up having to throw away because he must believe that his magical little herb will make it all go away. I mean seriously, you have a cannabis card for BACK PAIN WHEN YOU SLEEP! Could you even invent a more generic and vague illness specially designed to get you a card? Come on. And he has washed his sheets one time in the 6 months we have been here, God only knows how many women have been in that bed, what a pig. Never in my have I heard someone talk about women like he does, like they are a piece of meat or a possession meant to be exploited. His father and mother did a real nice job raising him, they instilled every important value necessary to make sure that he becomes a fully-functioning member of society. And then he had this bike, it cost like $700, it replaced the bike that he hit a car with and broke. That fucking bike had to live in our room instead of out in the bike cages because someone might steal it, well someone did steal it from his friend’s frat so it serves you right you fucking asshole, that’s Karma if I’ve ever seen it. You make my life fucking miserable you self-centered womanizing fuckoff, I am counting the days down until I get rid of your ass and I never have to fucking see your face or hear you surfer dude voice or wake up to you coming in at 4 in the morning because you forgot your fucking key. When are you going to fucking wake up you worthless piece of shit, you are given opportunities people only dream of and you piss every single one of them away because you can’t think of anything but your next high or what unsuspecting drunk girl you are going to take advantage of next. His new thing is he is going to go work in Peru and climb trees. Come see me in 14 years when you are living off of bananas and nuts and have syphilis and herpes and every other contractible illness. The worst thing happened the other night, he came in at 3 o’clock and was making all this noise and slammed the door at least 10 times and was drunk. Then, I hear him put lotion on his hands (he never uses lotion) and I start hearing this noise. I could not believe it, but the dirty little prick was MASTURBATING while I was in the room! I was so disgusted. I wanted to throw up. What kind of person does that? He knew I was in the room, and it didn’t matter how many times I tossed or coughed, he didn’t stop. I felt like my personal space was violated because I had to hear it. Who knows where he is now, he’ll probably stumble in high and drunk at about 2 in the morning and make noise and throw up. I question how qualified he is to go to school here, I’m talking the top public university in the world and you have people like him here. Someone that was qualified could be learning and making use of their lives instead of him just making mine miserable. Seriously, if you are reading this and I kind of hope you are, go away and leave me the fuck alone.
I bet he knows what a paragraph is.