Living With Roommates is Always Interesting

I like to think I am a likable guy. I am the kind of guy that you get to know and love in small doses.

I say small doses because everyone needs an opportunity to adjust and maintain alone time, especially me. Of course I have my quirks and habits that make me who I am as a person in this trip we call life.

I do not usually tell a person how I feel about them until I know they can take my criticism. If you smell bad, somebody should tell you at some point.

Don't get upset; I am trying to help you make it through life without everyone whispering behind your back about how they can't stand being around you.

I grew up in a family of six: mom, dad and my three younger brothers.

We tell each other how we feel. More often than not we pick at each other's faults.

Of course the psychology behind it would lead you to believe we all have our own insecurities, but on the other hand it is an opportunity for the person being made fun of to better themselves.

For example, my 15-year-old brother is going through puberty and an image crisis. He shaves his eyebrows in the middle to break up his unibrow. I asked him about it in a joking manner because he now looks like an angry Sesame Street character.

I have lived in Auburn for almost five years.

I have had six different roommates. This is not counting the one hometown junky friend I let move in to get clean.

I welcomed him with open arms only to find out he was driving to Birmingham every morning to re-up on his drugs before I would wake.

He continued to be high as a bird on pet tranquilizers in his stay at mi casa. Needless to say he disappeared after a week. That was three years ago.

In 2005 my first two roommates were my best friend and some dude from Colorado who played lacrosse for Auburn.

Lacrosse guy lasted two semesters and did his best to avoid the other roommate and I.

His replacement was my Vietnamese buddy who lasted a year before he knocked up his girlfriend and got married.

Good morning Vietnam's replacement was a short country bumpkin that could always put a smile on your face. My mom calls him her little ray of sunshine.

He flunked out of Auburn multiple times and moved in with his girlfriend. He got back into Auburn this semester, but commutes daily. I guess he could not handle managing his own time.

My best friend did not last much longer after these three fell by the wayside. I thought he was going to be by my side throughout college and life in general.

He knocked his girlfriend up and moved back to Birmingham to be a loving father. He named me his son's godfather. There is something so gangster about saying, "I'm da godfatha."

Now let me make an offer any college student can't refuse.

Move into my house that I own and pay me $300 a month plus cable.

It was a big mistake on my part to let the next dude move in.

This dude and I hung out for a couple of months before he asked to move in. I was living alone for the first time in my life. I was so lonesome I bought a dog from the Humane Society.

So the dude wants to move in. Cool?

This guy goes out and buys another dog without consulting me on the matter.

I live in a three-bedroom duplex that is a little over a 1000 square foot. Two dogs equal strike one.

Then his television goes out. So I loan him an extra TV set I was not using at the time. Almost strike two.

Then his car breaks down. I was a nice guy and let him borrow my ride daily for a month and a half.

Come on, get your damn car fixed and quit using me.

I thought to myself, why does he not take advantage of the Tiger Transit that picks up in our front yard? Strike two for real.

The third strike was a combination of little things.

He would not do sock-laundry so he would ball up nasty wet socks around the house for me to clean up.

Come to find out he throws out his used socks and has his mom buy new ones monthly.

He took over my section of the couch. I did not sit in my seat for six months.

He never did dishes or took out the trash even once.

He never slept at night and slammed doors until I jumped out of bed with a barrage of curse words.

The worst part was that he stunk like dog excrement and body odor. My house was starting to adopt the smell.

Strike three and you are out, man.

The list was endless. My belief is that he was raised as a grandchild by his parents and never had to do anything for himself.

This dude is finally gone.

My house now has new floors, new furniture and freshly painted walls to cover up any traces of this disgusting human being.

I am pleased to say my sixth roommate is one of my brothers and it is working out better than I could have imagined, but anything is better than my 6-month stay in hell.