I am eenveen-cee-bull?

So apparently, the gene pool is further stained than just Fatass and his inbred sister. It would appear that Fatass has a brother. I know this because he's sitting on Fatass's god damn fucking bed. When I got back to the room from dinner, here's this random guy sitting on Fatass's bed. He introduces himself as the Brother of Fatass. So hey, thanks for telling me, you fucking dickless white trash cumguzzlers.

So now they're both sitting on his bed and Fatass starts bragging about how he threw some chick's shoes into the bathroom and how he got away with a written reprimand and blah blah blah. More Boris Grishenko shit that makes me want to take a cast iron skillet and give him a homerun swing to the teeth.

So yeah, gotta say, this conversation is pretty fucking stupid. They're talking shit about their own sister or something, and how she's a slut or whatever. I'm really trying not to listen because I generally don't like blue collar comedy. The only plus out of this whole god damn fucking thing is that Fatass actually has a shirt on.

It's so awkward. They're sitting on the side of his bed, and they're both facing me and Fatass is kind of looking at me in between glancing at Brother of Fatass while talking about video games. Hey asshole, if you're staring at me to try to read my mind, read this: "FUCK. YOU."

So what the fuck, right?

You're probably wondering where your favorite pissed off college student was this weekend, and I have to say that I had an awesome weekend, mainly because I was at work the whole damn time. However, I did get to think about a new story that I haven't told yet, so there is new material, albeit a couple days late. Here we go.

So back in September, while I was still nice enough to give a fuck about what Fatass is doing, I come back into the room after class. After I get settled in, he takes out this massive chef's knife and starts sharpening it. By Big State laws, you are not allowed to have any sort of that on a college campus, let alone concealing it in your fucking sock drawer.

Now, normally I'm okay with rights to carry and stuff like that. You'd be god damed to find out, but I'm actually a pretty tolerant guy. But the thing is that people actually heard the sharpening of the knife from rooms away, so the Big State University Police was called, along with the Generic Residence Hall Director. So pretty much, I hear a knock on the door and go over to open it and there's a university cop and the hall director glaring at me. I step out of the way to show Fatass sharpening his knife.

Nowadays, I'd want him to get his fucking due, but back then I felt kinda guilty for selling him out. If I knew then what I knew now, he'd be getting slapped down with a court appearance. Kinda wish he was. But the worst part of it all was that he made up a bullshit lie about his friend being a culinary arts major and he was just sharpening it for her. Riiiight.

So, they let him off with a warning, and he's thinking he's all high and mighty and invincible. Think Boris Grishenko from GoldenEye. He pretty much became an insufferable twat for the next two days, continually gloating about the fact that he pulled one over on a rent-a-cop.

What he doesn't realize is that had I known better, I would have sold him out faster than Napoleon sold the Louisiana Purchase in 1803.* But since that incident, it seems that the lesson sunk into his thick fat skull and he stopped doing stupid shit that will result in a court hearing.

I still wish he would be pimpsmacked by the law at least once, but I think that death by liquid nitrogen and then an explosion would be better.




*Your history reference for the month.

Phone Phun

So it's time for another telephone conversation! He begins with the statement that his constant bitching and disagreeing with Bess has made him sick. No, I still think it's his bitchtits out in the open. Interesting side note: I have yet to contract whatever Fatass has and get sick. I'm thinking it's just the tits in the breeze.

Now  he's bragging to Bess about Bitchface getting a job. Why should she care? Seriously. Apparently, after Bitchface learned she got a job at the dining hall, she tackled Fatass. That is an accomplishment in itself.

"I suppoooooooose since you've been such a good girl, I can give you a massage tomorrow." Ew. Just ew. I need to bleach my brain. Right now.

And now here we go with him making fart noises into the phone for hours on end. Seriously, it's like he's talking to a 5 year old.

"I'm already hating the semester." Yeah, I hate you too, you bulbous, pus-filled fuck.

Ooooh! Now we know why Fatass's back hurts! He was sitting on a dryer and jumped, landing it wrong, thus confirming the stereotype that fat rednecks should not jump around without careful planning.

Now he's calling people lazy cowards. Has he looked in the mirror lately?

(Loogie break)

Now he's asking me if he's being too loud for me. If he only knew... I think I smell a musical interlude coming... if you all will please turn your songbooks to "Scotty Doesn't Know" by Lustra...

Fatass doesn't know that my K-Star and me

Make fun of his life every damn day

He does such stupid shit

And I say it's okay

But still I blog away

And Fatass doesn't know!

Oh, Fatass doesn't know-oh...

So don't tell Fatass,

Fatass doesn't know, Fatass doesn't know.

So don't tell Fatass!

You know I say I'm just gaming

But I'm really Insult Hall of Faming

'Cause Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

So don't tell Fatass,

Fatass doesn't know.

So don't tell Fatass!

I can't believe he's so smelly,

Or that Bitchface likes his belly,

Bess has got him on the phone

And I'm trying not to groan

It's so gross 'cause he's just flaming, flaming...

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

So don't tell Fatass!

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know.

So don't tell Fatass,

I'll put show,

Everyone will go.

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know.

Fatass doesn't know.

The use of soap?

You say nope.

It'd be so cool

If you just croak.

Until then the words will flow

Laughing so hard because Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know!

I blog about his bitchtits...

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know!

Don't tell Fatass!

Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass will know!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass gotta know!

Gonna tell Fatass!

Gonna tell him myself!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass doesn't know!

(Chant with me!!!) Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass doesn't know!

FATASS HAS TO GO!

.... to the shores of Tripoli!

So after a long day of class and work, I finally come back to my room, and what am I greeted by? That's right, the most disgusting force in the history of the known universe: Fatass, Bitchface, and the stench of one of Fatass's "don't know when to take a shit" farts. God, if you do exist, why must you hate me so? Seriously, there cannot be an intelligent designer in the universe, because of the fact that Fatass even exists.

So Fatass has continued to disgust, not only because of his raunchy shit farts. Since he's still sick, he's still hocking loogies into the trash can. Yeah, he's trash bitch for the rest of the semester now. In the immortal words of the New Radicals, you get what you give, you sisterfucking piece of white trash shit. So now Bitchface and Fatass are leaning right up against the side of my bed again, despite the fact that they could just as easily sit on their bed. I have a theory. I think they do it because my half of the room smells good. Though the refuse to acknowledge it, they prefer the smell of my side of the room to Fatass's, and you know why? It's because I shower with soap, do my laundry, and use proper physical hygeine.

So now I'm totally miserable, and my weekend has been ruined. I'm just happy I didn't walk in to them fucking, but it'd be an interesting story to tell Bess!

"Hey Bess! ... no, don't be a bitch to me just yet. I've got news for you! It's about Fatass! ... oh, no. I mean Porkins.... no, YOUR BOYFRIEND. Jeez, I wish I could fault you for your complete fucking stupidity, but you're so young... Anywho, you'll never guess what I just walked in to. Remember that chick that you don't want him hanging around with anymore? Well, she's back! And guess what? He was fucking her when I walked in! Well, I guess that's what you get for dating a complete fucking fat tool. Yeah, bye."

So yep, my weekend's just started, and it's already turning out to be a complete fucking joyride. Maybe if I'm lucky, they'll both break their legs on the way to dinner and won't be able to come back to the room. Or hell, maybe I can get lucky and he'll get kidnapped and sent to Lybia and get caught up in the riots. See? I was going somewhere with that title.

Perpetual List of Insults

In an effort to assemble as many insults as possible toward Fatass, I decided to establish this list. Please feel free to comment on it as you see fit with your suggestions for insults. The ones that make the grade will be added to the list. My tentative plan is to read the entire list off to him Gunnery Sgt. Hartman style at the end of the semester. Aaaaand go.

"Know your damn role and shut your damn mouth."

"The best part of you ran down the crack of your momma's ass and landed as a brown stain on the mattress."

"You stink. Go shower."

"Maybe if you put your shirt on every once in a while, you wouldn't get sick."

"You must have been quite the little shit to get out of your momma's cunt."

"Chris Hansen called. He told you to have a seat over there."

"Dragonball Z sucks."

"Magic sucks."

"You're not a samurai."

"Instead of farting, just yawn. That's where all the shit is coming out."

"K-Star tells me that you've got tits just about as big as hers. Want to borrow a bra?"

"Did those tits of yours come from $4,000 in implants or $4,000 in shitty beer?"

"No matter how hard you close your eyes, Zack Fair and Sephiroth will never suck your dick. Not even if pressing the 'X' button makes them perform forced fellatio."

"Maybe if you showered every once in a while, you wouldn't wonder what the smell of shit in our room is coming from."

"Tell you what. I'll stop hurling insults your way when you stop talking to your sister about how her boobs are getting bigger, you disgusting incestuous fuck."

"Why don't you stop wasting your time staring at me in my sleep and just buy a Hanson poster? They seem to be more your type."

Just Bring It

So apparently, I'm not the only one that's had issues with Fatass over the course of his pitiful, meaningless existence. Today, I've learned that one of my loyal readers actually lived across the hall from Fatass for a little while, and the stories he's told me are quite interesting.

Apparently, as we've established from his phone conversations with Bess, Fatass is an emotionally unstable, quick to anger, manic aggressive cuntwad that should die in the most horrible and gruesome way possible. Apparently, Fatass had issued death threats to this reader for having his stereo too loud. On another occassion, Fatass picked this reader up. Attempting to break free of his grip, the reader grabbed Fatass's greasy slimeball hair so that he wouldn't fall over. Fatass threw him against a door, causing the reader to bleed from his head. Now, I can't prove if any of this is true or not, but I believe my readers over Fatass 10 times out of 10.

"So, Pissy," you're saying. "What happens if Fatass finds out the blog and comes after you?" Well, dear readers, the thought has crossed my mind, and I've come up with the perfect solution. Fatass likes to use knives. He has a long cutting knife in his closet that he never uses, so I don't even fucking know why he has it. Probably to issue death threats.

So what do I do? Well, what I've got that he doesn't is a pair of legs that work, a cardiovascular system that won't shut down when I try to run, and I've also got the smarts to know when to flee. However, I won't need to run, because at the first sign of him coming at me with a knife, I've got that mini TV that I had to bring. The second he walks toward me, I've got it rigged so I can rip the cables right out and then smash him over the head with it repeatedly until he's out cold. And then, for good measure, I take the knife and castrate him. I don't want to be up close and personal with Fatass's tiny pecker, but hey, anything to stop that from infecting the gene pool. I may have to bleach my hands afterward, though.

However, the difference between me and him is that I'd be doing it for self defense... except for the castration part, which is for the good of society as a whole. Do I think it'll ever come down to that? No, I don't. Besides, I think I could kill him just by pushing a bottle of body wash in his face. Let him melt a la Wicked Witch of the West.

So, to sum up my feelings about if Fatass gets aggressive toward me and tries to indimitate me, I will quote the movie Jarhead. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for I am the baddest mother fucker in the God damn valley."

So that was cool... in 1996.

So now Fatass is sick. He comes in yesterday and is in a pissy mood and goes, "Hey... I might get you sick. Just wanted to give you the heads up." Yeah, no. I'm not getting sick just because of Fatass's weak immune system. Maybe if he wore a fucking shirt every once in a while, he wouldn't get sick. Seriously, if he'd just put his bitchtits away and stopped licking the shower floor, started using soap and shower shoes, he might actually stop "coughing up green phlegm", as he so kindly told me last night. I'm not touching my garbage can until he goes and dumps it. He's hocking loogies into it like he's getting paid for it. I may just throw up.

So instead of him going to classes at 8am, Fatass decided to camp in the room, fully awake, while I had to go shower and stuff. I enjoy Tuesdays and Thursdays becuase I can change into my towel in my room rather than doing it in the disgusting bathroom. But nope, today he decides he's got a little cold, so that means he's gotta let everything drop. He's not that sick. He's fully awake and watching TV at obnoxiously loud levels. I find that if I'm severely sick, I decide to sleep and, you know, TURN THE FUCKING VOLUME DOWN.

But nope, even when "sick", he's gotta be the biggest douchebag in the whole wide world. What a fuck. So while I was attempting to do my four page case study for CLASS, Fatass is laying in his bed with his god damn fucking shirt off, watching the movie Space Jam. You know, the one with Michael Jordan and all the Looney Tunes gang. So it wasn't even good TV that he was blaring.

Now, that movie was awesome back in 1996 when it first came out. It was revolutionary, featured awesome cameos (Newman...), and was an exciting movie for someone who was 12 years old. However, when we're in fucking college and I'm trying to DO A FUCKING CASE STUDY FOR A CLASS, that's just made of fuckwad.

So here's what I'm thinking. While he's trying to sleep at 9pm, I'm just gonna crank my TV on something obnoxious at a loud level. However, I'll plug my headphones into my computer so I don't have to listen to the Jonas Brothers on Disney Channel. I'll be listening to my iTunes while I can torment him with whatever the fuck they're doing. Hell, maybe Justin Beiber can make a cameo. The only time I'll catch Beiber fever is if it annoys the hell out of my roommate.

Besides, he slept from 9pm to 9am anyway. That's a good 12 hours of sleep right there. Bullshit, fuck you, you're not that sick.

Must See TV?

So it's another Monday with Fatass. After being at Bess's grandma's house last night, likely porking Bess (but not grandma, since he only goes for lil ones), he ruins my life once more by not being dead. But in all seriousness, I'd be more pissed than sad if he dies, because then I'd have no more blog fodder. So we, as in me and all the readers, need to pray for his continued state of being alive. *sigh* I know it's tough for most of you (I know it is for me), but that's what we've gotta do.
Okay, so less talky, more ranty. I get it. I know what you come here for, and it's not my thought on fuscia wallpaper (love it *rolls eyes*).

So you may be wondering why I've got my mini little TV when there's a big TV in the room that belongs to Fatass. There are several reasons. The first is because I'm afraid that the filthy remote control has been down his pants. But there's also the teensy little fact that no matter what, he's always on the god damn TV no matter what the day. He's either watching some stupid show or playing PS2. Now, normally gaming is fine. I'm a big gamer. What's not okay is when he's playing the same damn game for hours upon hours upon hours, especially when it was in the roommate agreement that hey! Monday night at 9, I get to watch TV. That's important to me, but hey! He's Fatass! He can do whatever the fuck he wants.

And the worst part is that Bitchface just comes in whenever he's in here and just starts playing video games! What the fuck? I mean, if Fatass wants to play video games for all hours, I can't say shit because he's paying for the room too. But when Bitchface comes in and plays video games because she's sad that someone told her off, that is NOT OKAY.

I mean, for the love of fuck! Am I the only one that thinks that it's okay to actually, you know, SHARE a TV? All I want is some common goddamn courtesy. Yes, I've ranted about it before, but no, I don't expect it to get better. All I can hope is that I survive the semester.

But hey, what the fuck ever. I've got my little mini TV that has headphones on it. I can go into my own little world... until he starts talking to me while I'm trying to watch.

Sunday Drawings

So it's Sunday, which means a new drawing for us. It's been an official Fatass-free weekend, so I haven't had much to rant about. Hopefully this will make up for it. I'm sure tomorrow he'll do more stupid shit that will piss me off, so stay tuned. I know I'm waiting with baited breath. Yeah, sarcasm. So enjoy my artwork!

Did I wake you?

The sleeping Fatass. Picture is not of him, but damn close.

Okay, so fucking creepiness abounds. Fatass calls Bess's grandma every weekend to see if it's okay for him to come over and spend the night for weekends. Every time he calls, the first lines out of his trap are, "Hello, Alice! Did I wake you?" It's 5:28pm. And now he just hung up and is giving Bitchface a hug out in the hall. Bitchface is just kinda lurking out in the hall. She should have just stayed out there, but whatever. So tonight, it seems like I'll have the room to myself. Anyway, is it just me who finds it weird that he calls his girlfriend's grandma every weekend to see if he can come over? I mean, that just increases the pedo-factor to me. Maybe I've just been too used to his disgusting life.

So yeah, it didn't take long for me to get annoyed with Fatass. The second he walked into the room, he tried to talk to me with my headphones on AGAIN, and then told me it was cool to watch his TV. I mean, it's the lone nice gesture he's done for me since we started rooming in August, but I'm not about to touch his remote control. Besides, the whole reason why I brought my own TV was because he was constantly using it for his ever important video games.

And hey, there it is! Bitchtits are out in full force now! It actually took him 5 minutes because he had to let Bitchface into our room without my permission! So now he's going to shave apparently, so he's pulled his greasy ass hair back into a pony tail and is now going out to shave. Yep, so that means that Bitchface is leaning against his bed, watching my TV and just being creepy. Yeah, get the fuck out.

Yep, now she's talking to me. I do not have my headphones on, so I guess it's forgivable. I don't know why I'm nice and just say "uh-huh". I should really just tell her to get the fuck out of my room, but meh, I figure the blog is good enough.

So yeah, even when he fucking leaves the room, he does shit that annoys me. Why can't people be euthanized, again?

Well, now that you mention it...

So after I get out of my night class, I decided that it'd be a good idea to go over to the ol' place of employ and pick up my paycheck and maybe buy some orange juice at some point. I made up my mind about this in class while attempting to listen to my professor. Oops. Anyway, class lets out and I call up K-Star, because she's got a nice schedule where she has NOTHING on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and she takes a genuine interest in how my day was. So I give her a call as I'm walking back into my room. Nothing abnormal there, right? Right.

I walk back into my room, wrap my bag around one of my bedposts, walk over to my desk and grab my keys and wallet, and then walk out the door without so much as a hello to Fatass, who incidentally is on the phone with Bess. I figured that was a good thing, because it allowed me to not talk to him since he was preoccupied.

So I come back to my room and see that I'm alone. I settle in and then Fatass comes back in, ruining my day entirely. While I have my headphones on (sensing a pattern here?), he asks me if he pissed me off that badly. I had to stop for a moment and think of all the things he could have done to piss me off. I think he gave me a weird look because it took me a few minutes to reminisce about all the shit that he's done in the past seven months. It finally dawns on me that he's talking about my hasty exit from the room while talking to K-Star.

So yeah, sure. Why not? Yeah, you pissed me off that much. Of course, I'm not going to say that to your face, you disgusting bag of horse shit. If I had a choice, I'd be rooming alone, but again, thanks to Big State's fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine education system, I'm stuck here with your fat ass. Is it spring break yet? Seriously, I want to strangle this bastard.

The one and only time I'm nice on this blog



Bin of Death



Just wanted to give a big thank you to The Angriest Pharmacist for pimping out my own little pissed off corner of the interwebs. A big welcome to all of you that are jumping over. I would strongly recommend starting the story at the beginning, which, for the sake of convenience, can be found here.

Anyway, the annoying tones of Fatass's snoring are keeping me awake, so I figured I'd offer you a little taste of what's to expect here, now that I've got an actual plan for this damn thing.

• Sundays will be art day. Here you will find my amazing Photoshopping skills on full display with a story to go along with it. I figure it's a great way to wrap up a weekend filled with Fatass.
• On every other day, I'll make shit up as I go. Awesome.

I'm also in the process of adding more pictures to the blog so that it breaks up the long ass blocks of text. Therefore, for your viewing pleasure, I've taken a picture of the creepy bin he wants me to put my returnable bottles and cans in so that he can cash in on me and my diet soda drinking habit. Fucking schmuck.

Anyway, hope you enjoy. But if you don't, meh, whatever.

Way to be a dick

So I wake up today before Fatass, which is crazy. He went to sleep at about 10pm, and when I woke up at 8:30, he was still passed out. I'm pretty sure he has a class at 9, but if he does, he's slept through it for the past few days. I don't fucking care what he does and it would actually be great to see him crash and burn, but it does bother me when he's in the room when I'm trying to change after my shower. Seriously, me with my clothes off isn't that much of an attractive sight. Ask K-Star. She may tell you different, but she's just being nice.

So not only am I miserable about that, but when I come back from my workshop today, he's talking to Bess on the phone, and it's their usual sickening "I loveums you," bullshit that makes me want to throw up. However, it always seems that once I get in the room, he always starts to do this verbal abusive shit that makes me want to knock his teeth down his throat. He talks about how "there are no ifs, ands, or buts about it," but obviously Bess is questioning it, so he grits his teeth and repeats it, just doing this douchebag macho thing that should not be tolerated. Of course, every time Bess tries to fight back or get a word in edgewise, he gets mad and says more shit that serves as a ticket to jail. Seriously, what a fuck.

I think the worst part of the day was the fact that Fatass is now haunting my dreams. I was dreaming where I was in my room and getting ready to shower, when he asked for the room for a few hours. I told him to wait until I shower and get dressed so that I could get to class and not stink, but he got pissed. So I called him a fat fuck and spat in his face. Then the dream flashed forward to me giving him a ride to a grocery store in some random assed town in the middle of nowhere. I'm not sure where. I think it was southern Vermont near the Massachusetts border. So he walks into the grocery store and then John Cena's theme music plays. As the tongue roll of the lyrics started, I gave Fatass two middle fingers and sped off, leaving him behind to die.

That was a pretty good dream, but then I woke up and realized that he was still asleep in the room, and I died a little inside.

Phone etiquette

So we all know that Fatass has some serious verbal abuse issues when talking to Bess on the phone. What I never expect is Bess giving me attitude just because Fatass isn't there to take her call. Granted, I get why she's pissed. Fatass is probably off porking Bitchface in a dirty basement, and Bess isn't happy about it. I understand. And the other big problem is that Bess is just a hint above the age of consent, so she doesn't know any better. Fatass is her sweetheart while she was in high school (even though he was in college when they started dating). So she's got these rose colored glasses on and he's just fucking with her. However, don't shoot the messenger, bitch.

Honestly, I haven't seen much of Fatass today, aside from 10 minutes after I got back from dinner. He had his shirt off and started talking to me after I had my headphones on. However, Bitchface wasn't there, so the Trifecta of Annoyance was not complete. Anyway, he left to go do some stupid thing, so it's actually been a pretty Fatass free day. However, I still feel rage bottling up inside. I must really have issues, but I'm going to do the healthy thing that millions of Americans do every day and let it out on somebody else. It's only natural, right? Bess does it to me when I answer the phone, so I'm gonna let out my rage on another person that should have his body dragged through the streets of Rome.

I have no fucking clue why, but I am Facebook friends with a highly annoying excuse of a person who seems to think that his minor accomplishments are stuff of the gods and he should have his feet kissed for them. As a part of his Facebook bio, he proudly states that he was the "Valedictorian of Senior Magazine Sales" at his high school. I am not making this up.

I'm tempted to write on his wall and say, "Hey, Mr. Self-Important Bag of Shit Nobody Cares About! I think of your senior magazine sales on the same level as the latest guy or guys the Kardashians are banging." For those of you who are wondering, I don't give a flying fuck about either.

Nobody freaking cares about high school, not even high school professionals. Now, before I get angry comments and emails saying that I don't understand the rigors of the high school teachers in Big State, let me tell you this. I know enough about public education to see someone get pushed through if it's needed. I've seen enough "star athletes who struggle just a wee bit" get forced through trig and calculus just so that they can get their diploma and then the big scholarship so that they can go to a big school and put tiny little East Bumfuck on the map as the Hometown of Joe Beercan. I've also seen enough shit go down in guidance counselors' offices to be shocked and appalled at the way transcripts are treated. I've seen situations where transcripts weren't sent out at all because, "Oops, I forgot." That's not to say that there aren't dedicated, caring individuals working in public education. It's that the great majority of them don't give a shit.

Anyway, back to our original tangent. The only people that care about high school are college admissions offices, and even then, they don't care about high school if you're transferring in. If you're a freshman, they don't even care if you were the "valedictorian of senior magazine sales". All they care about are SAT and ACT scores, your high school GPA, and they want to see that you did a few extracirriculars just to make sure you weren't just twiddling your dick for four years.

So here's the deal, Mr. Facebook Fuckhead. Do something notable in college aside from making minor things into delusionally earth shattering life events. Maybe get a hobby or stop masturbating into condoms and go get laid for real. No, on second thought, I take that back. People of your breed should not be permitted to spill your seed into the gene pool.

Yeah, I'm probably being hypocritical right now. I'm probably not giving people the proper consideration to make fair decisions. Hell, I'll be the first to tell you that I make things out to be a big deal, but not on this scale. You don't see me bragging on Facebook with the accomplishment, "Biggest Dump in Pissy Household, 2008".

And now guess who's back in the room. He's now laying on his bed "studying", but is really talking to himself and humming to himself. Oh, and yeah. He took his shirt off right after walking in the door, so don't even bother asking. Today just keeps getting better and better.

The Bitch(face) is back

Well, that took what? Three, maybe four days? After the initial guilt of having Bitchface over for every day this semester, Fatass finally got over it when Bess left, and now Bitchface is back in the room, doing whatever on her laptop while Fatass just looks at the pictures like an amused toddler. As you can tell, it's another lovely day for me.

So here's how my Monday started. I woke up to see that Fatass wasn't in the room, as usual, since he has a 9 o'clock class and always leaves early. This allows me to put on a towel in my room and walk the 2 doors down to the bathroom, avoiding the hassle of trying to balance a towel, washcloth, and clothes all on one towel rack. It's just easier. So I wake up and I disrobe, and grab my towel. Wouldn't you know it, the fucker punches the code into our room. I throw the towel around me and collect my things in a hurry to get out of that potential assrape possibility. "G'morning... taking a shower, are ya?" Yeah. I am, Fatass. See this soap? THAT'S HOW IT'S DONE.

I take my shower, figuring he's just forgotten something, but hey, I don't have a change of clothes in the bathroom with me, so he'd better not be there. I finish showering and come back into the room. He's still there, watching cartoons. At this point, I think he's going to molest me. I keep my towel on and change into my pants then gather my bag and get the fuck out of there before it gets any god damn creepier.

The rest of my Monday goes pretty smoothly. I ignore Fatass on my way down to lab, my classes finish up, and when I come back for the day, he's not here. Good! So I decide to do some laundry. When I get back, guess who's here! That's right! Fatass, with Bitchface sitting by his bed like a dog. Can you guess the first words out of his mouth? "Laundry day?" Nope. I decided to take all my clothes and burn them because of your horrendous stink.

So now I'm eating my dinner in my room, because I decided that I wanted to avoid the cold Big State winds. I'm eating my food, and what does Fatass do? He blows two loud, obnoxious smelly farts. Bitchface served as a temporary windscreen, but still. I ate as quick as I could and threw out the rest because he's a fucking douchebag with no sense of common goddamn courtesy. I mean, do I need to take a poll here? Do I need to ask whether it's polite to hold off on a massive shit fart until after people eat? I thought this was common sense stuff!

So now they're gone. They decided to go to dinner or, in terms Fatass can understand, "provide more fart fuel". Seriously, douchebag. Lay off the Twinkies and cabbage and maybe you'll stop the fire alarms from going off in our room.

I'll finish up today by posting what I originally wanted to talk about before he did more stupid things to piss me off. Fatass wants me to recycle and put my empty cans in this gray bin so that he can return them. Last semester, I was a naive fool and didn't realize that the recycling room in our building recycled cans. So tell me, you fat fucking shithead, why should I pay you money when you're nothing but a god damn, good for nothing, incestuous, predatorial, horrendous smelling pedophile? In my books, you owe me about eight thousand dollars. That should cover the expenses of rooming with you, plus some money for therapy.

Also, to get a better look at my room, I created that diagram of how our room is set up. From here on out, you'll see drawings appear on the blog every Sunday, showcasing my life in my glorious art.

Late Night Drawing

Just so you could get a clearer picture

"Feeling like a freak on a leash"

Korn seems very apropros at the moment, because I have a bunch of rage pent up right now at Fatass. It was a generally good day today. Haven't seen him at all today, but have you ever had one of those feelings where your entire weekend gets ruined by one little thing? Yeah, that happened when he walked into the door. All of the nice relaxation that came about between last night and 10 minutes ago? All disappeared after he stepped his fat ass back into our room.

Big props go out to K-Star at this point. She heard that he came in the door and asked if he took his shirt off yet. She may have been a little off on the timing, but that was only because he was taking his boots off first.

So yeah, now my entire weekend is ruined, just from his fat hairy ass walking into the door. At this point, he's laying down on his bed, watching TV and munching on chips really loudly... and now he's trying to talk to me. Yup, still have headphones on. So this is really the trifecta of annoyance, and it only took him 10 minutes. He's laying down and his asscrack is hanging out, he's watching TV at a volume that's way too loud for respectful tastes, and now he's talking to me with my headphones on. To make matters worse, he doesn't know how to close his mouth when he chews his food, so I hear his lips smack in between asking me stupid shit that I'm not paying attention to. I believe he went to the Larry The Cable Guy Institute of Refined Tastes. I think he failed out after the first day.

On the plus side, it's 9:15pm, so he's probably going to be passing out soon. Still don't understand that. On the plus side, To Catch a Predator is on tonight, and I'm hoping to see his dreadful speckled mug on there. Unfortunately, there are no more new episodes, so I just have to hope that they do a random sting in his East Bumfuck hometown.

But tomorrow is the start of a new week. I'm sure I'm going to be even more pissed after a long day of school, so we'll just have to wait and see. Until then, I'm just in a holding pattern, waiting for the next retarded statement to come out of his mouth to further instigate my rage.

Get out. NOW.

So it's a miracle of epic proportions. Yours truly has the room to himself tonight. Perhaps after my jam session last night at 11pm when they were trying to sleep (no idea why), they got the picture that I don't live by their clock. But hey, it's Fatass, so any hope of him learning something should be dismissed right from the start.

Anyway, I guess I'll talk about a couple things, since I'm the only person in my room for once. First, we'll start with today. I work. I'm not going to tell you where I work because that'd just go against all policies of angry blogs. Sorry, that's just how it goes, but as a college student, you can safely assume it isn't anything that involves a lot of skill. So I'm working and I'm almost through with my shift, and here come Fatass and Bess. Fatass is smiling at me with that awkward smile that makes me think he watches me while I sleep. Fortunately, I was spared by work and had to go into the back, thus avoiding his inevitable, "Well hello there." Still makes me cringe.

The other fucked up thing he does that makes me wish he was dead is just completely go douchebag and cancel plans just so that he and Bess or Bitchface can be in the room. About 10 times last semester, he said, "Oh, you'll have the room to yourself tonight!" And you know what happened when I came back from work? They were there. It was either a "Hold on a minute," or "well hello there." Fucking piece of shit. Fortunately for him, tonight wasn't one of those nights. If he had told me to hold on a minute, I would have kicked them both out the window a la 300. "THIS! IS! MY ROOM!!!!!!!!!"

So yeah, I'm just going to enjoy this night of freedom. For once, I'm actually in a decent mood. I'd tell you to take a picture because it would last longer, but this blog is kind of a lasting image anyway... Weird. Okay, bye.

Revenge, best served funky

So I decided to get a little bit of payback tonight because of Fatass's heightened douchebaggery over the past 24 hours. Apparently, in his world, it's 11pm bedtime, and anyone that stays up later than that should be shunned.

So after this gay assed chick flick that I didn't pay attention to, no matter how much they wanted me to, they decided that the time was right to sleep. Normally, I'd shut my light off, but not tonight. K-Star and Funkmaster were having their own little party in K-Star's room, and since I'm a few hours away and I have to work in the morning, I figured I'd join too. So I used the wonders of video chat and we decided to have our own party. I bought a 2 liter of Diet Mountain Dew (nectar of Gods), and we played power hour. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's 60 shots of beer in 60 minutes. The particular power hour we played was synched to punk pop hits from the late 90s and early 00s. Awesome time.

So I turn off the main light and turn on my desk light, and start jamming away. Fatass, very irritated, looks at me jamming out and goes, "Uh, are you okay?"

Shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch. For once, I'm having a good time while you're in the room, mainly because I'm ignoring you. By you opening your fat cakehole, you're ruining my fun. So he wants to know about what I'm doing and I just tell him that it's power hour. Like I assumed, he had no fucking clue as to what I was talking about, so eat shit.

Bess is apparently another early-to-bedder, but seriously. 11pm on a Friday night. I'm not going to concede my entire god damn night just because you two want to do your own thing and go to bed early. You know what they have for that? HOTEL ROOMS. I know a Travelodge a few hours away that's just as skeevy as the two of you.

So anyway, they should just consider themselves god damn lucky that I had my headphones in the whole time. I would have made it MUCH worse than fucking Spongebob. But yeah, fuck them all. Just glad that for a night, Mr. Pissy was in the driver's seat. Fuck Fatass. Fatass sucks.

The last time I'm nice to Fatass

So what the fuck? Fatass says he only needs an hour. Says that at 8 o'clock, everything will be done, they'll be dressed, and they'd probably be out the door. At 8:10, I knock on the door. "Hold on a minute!!!"

What. The fuck. I'm nice and I give you an extra 10 goddamn minutes and how do I get thanked? "Hold on a minute!!!!" Fucking. Douchebag. I am done with him. He even TRIES to talk to me, I'm gonna flip shit on him. I ignored him when he said, "We'll be back later," after walking out the door. I was really tempted to tell them not to fucking come back. What a schmuck. What a fatass hillbilly pedophile schmuck.

Sure, I'm probably overreacting. I don't care. I've given him enough opportunities to not be a fucking cock, but at every point, he finds new ways to raise the bar. Ten minutes probably isn't that big of an issue, but it's not just the 10 minutes. It's the 10 minutes on top of having a mousey looking bitch over every goddamn night, making me listen to him lie to his girlfriend about it, and then dealing with the horrendous odor constantly coming from his body.

So yeah, what the fuck.

Fat fucking

So I was just settling into the blergosphere, preparing to type up my efforts of avoiding Fatass while he was at work, but just as I begin to think up a title, he comes walking into my room. Yup, my headphones are still blasting music. Yup, he still tried to talk to me. And guess who's with him! If you guessed former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, you'd be close. It's Bitchface! You know, the girl that Bess doesn't want to have over because of the clear creepiness and the belief of the entire universe that she's fucking him. So instead of saying, "Hey, Bess is coming over. You're gonna have to leave," he decides that it's cool to have Bitchface in the room.

He hangs up and then tells Bitchface, "We've got 20 minutes." Umm... 20 minutes to do what? If you're trying to get her to give you a quickie beej, that's not happening with me in the room. I may just go Izzy Alcantara on them and throw them out the window.

And now Fatass is going into the bathroom to shave. Leaving Bitchface in the room with me. She's just drawing something she calls "art", and I'm sitting here typing mean things about her on a blog. Score one for Mr. Pissed. And yup, the shirt's off, so that means that bitchtits are on display. Are you really surprised at this point? I know I'm not.

So anyway, I'm assuming that Bitchface will be hitting the bricks when Bess gets here. If not, that's just going to be plain fucking awkward. Should be a great night in Generic Residence Hall though. I'll be seeing the trifecta of people I wish would have their genitals forcibly removed so they won't ever be allowed to feel pleasure. Sounds delightful.

Apparently yesterday or today or sometime in the next year is Fatass and Bess's anniversary. You know, marking a year since he asked her to be his underage illegal lover. Oh, the memories they must share. So you know what that means for yours truly tonight, boys and girls? That's right, tonight I will be asked at some point to leave the room for an hour, without being offered anything. Normally, if I'm going to sexile someone and they would normally be in the room, I'll give them five bucks and ask them to go downtown, with the five bucks going toward the miniscule amount of gas it takes to drive downtown (since the campus IS downtown), or to get food or whatever. You know what I get? A shrug and an eyefull of asscrack. Fucking. Douchebag.

Hell, when K-Star is up, I plan our fucking around times when the room will be empty, like a normal person. I have to work tomorrow. If I were the one sexiling, I would wait until the person left for work, and then just make sure to finish things up before they came back. But nope, Fatass is a selfish fuck that will be sexiling me in the weather that's in the teens and won't think anything else of it. "But Pissy," you say, "how do you know this will happen? This seems like a lot of speculation!" How do I know? I know because it's happened before and it will happen again.

And now Fatass is asking Bess if Bitchface can go to dinner with them. If this is their anniversary and he's only taking her to the dining hall, wow buddy. But to invite Bitchface to come along too? That is the height of being a fucking cock. So now Bess is going to be a little while longer, so Bitchface is in the room. I don't know if Bitchface will be able to eat without Fatass there. I guess some mysteries are best left uncared about. But seriously, what the fuck?

And now he's pissed that Bess is calling again. He shouts, "Someone better have died!!!" Uh, wow. Just break up with her and you don't have to hide the fact you're fucking Bitchface anymore. But nope, that makes sense and that would be the decent thing to do. As we all know by now, Fatass has no decency in his entire body, and believe me, there's a LOT of body there.

So you know what I'm going to do tonight until I'm inevitably kicked out? I'm going to be That Guy. You know, the roommate that just sits on his bed and refuses to leave until something is said. Like I've said before, I'm paying $3,000 for this room, so I'm not going to do a fucking douchebag any favors.

Oh, apparently Bitchface is still having problems with her roommate and that's why she's here today. Whatever makes you sleep at night, buddy. And there it is. He wants the room for an hour at 7 o'clock. God forbid he wait until tomorrow when I'm at work to be fucking. I mean, I get it. Sex is good. It's something that I thoroughly enjoy. But come on. Grow up and realize that sometimes you can't fuck whenever you want. That's a part of being an adult. You realize that though sex is really good, you can't have it whenever you want. So now, my plan is to go to dinner at 7, and then come back at 8. You know why? Because I'm That Guy.

Anyway, my pissy mood has been mildly supressed by the fact that K-Star and her awesome roommate Funkmaster have offered to let me in on their reindeer games tonight via Skype. I'm a loser, but it's cool. AND NOW FATASS IS APOLOGIZING TO BITCHFACE THAT HE HAS PLANS TONIGHT!?!?!?!

What in the God damn fucking hell? Seriously, Bess is supposed to be your fucking girlfriend! Here's something you should try. You should try apologizing to your GIRLFRIEND for having another girl in your room every night. Anyway, I'm giving them exactly one hour. I'm going to dinner at 7, and I'm coming back at 8. You know why? That's right. It's because I'm That Guy. Get the picture? Thought so. I have no reason to be nice to this guy and drive downtown, so I'm not going to. They get one hour.

"Hold on there, toots." That's what he said to Bitchface after Bess called. He told Bitchface to hold on while he talked to his girlfriend. What. The. Fuck. Seriously, you should be the first of many in a new government program to sterilize the retarded. Maybe that's a little too Texas tough for some people, but I like it.

So now they just left. Bess is dropping her bag off in the room and then they're all going to dinner. Hope they don't go past 7 at dinner. Just sayin'. Anyway, it's time to wrap this up. If you guys feel an earthquake in your region, don't be alarmed. Just try not to think about it too much.

Postscript: As I was walking back to the room today, I was stuck behind two guys. As we crossed the street, we passed a group of girls that they deemed to be good looking. They proceed to say, "Bay-bay, can I holla?" Now, I'm not sure what this means. To my female readers, what is the proper response to that? Do you say, "Yes you may?" I'm confused.

And there it is!

It hasn't been seen for two days... It's disappearance has become the talk of newspeople, entertainers, college professors, and professional observers everywhere. But today, it made its return, seemingly bigger than ever before.

My friends, the crack is back. It's staring at me, trying to get me to look at it. The coarse back hair that trails down to it is attempting to tease me. It's as if his whole body thinks that it should be looked at, as if some sort of genetic marvel that combined the tits of a woman with the body hair of a man. Too bad it hasn't realized that it's disgusting and OH MY FUCKING GOD! He's got red sores on his back. Like bleeding red sores. I guess that's what happens when you don't shower, but fuck! John Mayer, in all of HIS creepiness, would say that his body is a hideous wasteland. Oh, and now he notices he's bleeding, wipes up some blood, looks at it, and rubs his ear. I may just vomit.

Oh, I forgot to mention that he's on the phone with Bess. It's a miracle, because she hasn't been here for two days. Maybe Bess got upset enough that he got the picture. So I'm trying to mind my business, but he talks awfully loud, just like most of the other things he does, so I can't help but eavesdrop.

Oh, here's something else that makes me want to lock him into a port-a-john and set it on fire (quote courtesy George Carlin)...

K-Star and I are a normal, loving couple (as far as I know). When we wish to proclaim our love over the phone, we say, in a normal voice, "I love you." This is just like most people in America. But Fatass, and I think this may go back to his desire to pork young girls, says, "I loveums you..." in this singsong voice that makes me want to slap him in the mouth. And when Bess doesn't do it back, he gets mad. He insists that she say, "I loveums you" back. Maybe it's all a part of the preteen sexual thrill for him, but for me it's something that makes me want to stab him in the throat.

Now Fatass is attempting to give Bess homework help... for the HIGH SCHOOL homework she has. HIGH SCHOOL!!!!!!! Please tell me I'm not the only one who wants to call Chris Hansen on him! But apparently, she's attempting to do homework, and he's on the phone distracting her. There it is again with the "I loveums you". Here's the deal, Fatass - say that one more time, and then I'll be saying "I killums you" while stabbing him with a disposable plastic knife. Dirty fuckhead.

And now he's laying down on his back, so his hairy mantits are sticking straight up. I think he may be giving himself a self breast exam, but I'm not about to look over his way. So now, an open letter.

Dear K-Star,

Please send me a pic of your boobs so I can remember what real boobs are supposed to look like. After seeing all this manboob, I'm afraid that I may be turned off to all boobs. I need to make sure I can still get a boner from boobs. Thanks!

"I loveums you" Love,
Pissed

Seriously, it's not just my sanity that's being affected by this fuckhead. Being forced to look at his disgusting bitchtits may have turned me completely off to all tits. What Fatass does the second he enters the room is take his shirt off. Sometimes he forgets to close the door before doing so. I think he may be in love with them. I haven't seen any push-up bras around here, but I figure he's got a drawer for that. Another open letter:

To my cousin, the Fed,

Can you please come cap this bastard and make it look like an accident?

Thanks.

"I loveums you" With much family love,
Pissed

That's right. Who's got two thumbs and is in rare form tonight? This guy. Now he's saying that The Giver is a good book. Honestly, I never read it. It was required reading in 7th grade, so I obviously blew it off and made up my book reports. So I'm not sure if it's a good book, but all I can think of is homosexuality. Is Fatass seriously trying to come on to me? I'm beginning to fear for my cornhole.

To my cousin, the Fed,

Please come cap his ass ASAP.

"I loveums you" Please hurry,
Pissed

Fatass now says that he's got a lot of work to catch up on. You'd never know it, seeing as he's either on the phone with Bess or with Bitchface whenever he's not in class. Have you ever had one of those moments like in the movie Liar, Liar, where Jim Carrey's character has the convict on the phone asking for advice after being jailed again, and he just yells into the phone, "STOP BREAKING THE LAW, ASSHOLE!!!"

Yeah, I'm feeling that right now. You want to actually get your shit done? "STOP BREAKING THE LAW, ASSHOLE!!!" Stop talking to your barely legal girlfriend. Stop hanging out with Bitchface. Stop trying to come on to me. Maybe shower with soap every once in a fucking while. And for the love of all things holy, stop playing with your nipples, you disgusting inbred hillbilly fuck.

Here's where I'm going to have to leave you, my friends. I think I'm going to go throw up now. I leave you with one last open letter.

To my friends,

Normally I would ask you to come kill me now to put me out of my misery. However, I don't see any of this shit as my fault. If you can send all your rays of hatred toward my roommate, maybe he'll just spontaneously combust.

"I loveums you",
Pissed

Nahhh I don't need sleep

So Fatass seems to think that it's cool for him to turn on the TV in the morning at a normal volume, because hey, he's up so fuck everybody else!

I enjoy sleep. I enjoy sleeping until a half hour before my class, because it only takes me 15 minutes to get showered and another 5 to get dressed and be on my way to class. As for Fatass, he feels the need to wake up at 8am, wash himself off in the shower without soap or shower shoes, come back in and get changed.

Now, even when I'm asleep, I know what he's doing, so I turn to face the wall. I don't want the first thing I see in the morning to be his sweaty, hairy C cups. But then, as he's getting dressed and getting his books all set for class, he turns on the TV at a volume that would be normal for when people are, you know, acutally awake!

So I turn over and grumble. This has happened ever since we started rooming. Now, I'm used to the TV being on early in the morning. It was something set into my brain during family vacations. In the morning, dad would turn the TV onto CNN at a LOW VOLUME, and I would be vaguely aware of the morning's news. Hell, maybe that's why I check the New York Times website every morning after waking up. Anyway, the point is that it was a low volume and it was actually important things.

But with Fatass? He turns it on full volume and what does he watch? Spongebob Squarepants. I am not making this up. He turns it onto Nickelodeon and watches Spongebob. Look, Fatass. I know you like little girls and all, but watching shitty cartoons to be a child predator is something you can do in your alone time... or when you're with Bess or Bitchface. Okay? Okay.

Now, that's not to say I hate cartoons. K-Star is in a perpetual state of eye rolling when I say that I want to watch Futurama or some other cartoon. But hey, I take it in stride, and I respect K-Star enough to not watch it while she's trying to fucking sleep. You know why? Because I'm not a douchebag!

A little common goddamn courtesy goes a long way with me, and if you're starting the day off with shitty cartoons, I'm going to be miserable with you for a long time. Asshole.

No, I still don't care about what you have to say

So it's one thing for Fatass to be a fucking creepy douchebag in the room. I can tolerate that by logging. What I cannot tolerate is what happened today after I was getting out of my class and headed to my lab.

I walk out of the classroom, just wanting to go downstairs to my lab. Fatass is sitting in one of the chairs outside the classroom and smiles. Normally, that's cool. In guy code, we do the head nod and move on. But nope, not Fatass.

Fatass smiles with his big stupid donkey lips, then says, "Well hello there..." He makes it sound like we're fucking. I'm with all my friends from class, and for him to say something like that in a creepy tone that you're probably imagining makes me want to throw up. Seriously, Fatass! If Bess isn't enough, you've got Bitchface in the room for hours on end every night! You don't need to come onto me, too! I think K-Star will have something to say about that.

Seriously, can this guy get any fucking creepier? I mean, I've seen the previews for the "horror" flick The Roommate, but seriously? It seems like identity theft is a fucking walk in the park compared to what Fatass does. Good to know that if he tried to fit into any of my clothes, they'd rip and I would never have to wear them again. And who knows? Maybe actually showering and washing his hair will help him out with Bess or Bitchface or whoever else he wants to pork. It won't help with me though.

But yeah, we can do the whole personal hygeine thing now, because I've got time before my next class. It seems that Fatass does indeed shower, yet I never see any soap with his things. I see deodorant (thank GOD) and Bod fragrance (which is disgusting). No soap there. There are also no flipflops, and I have observed him enter the bathroom barefoot.

Umm... this is a residence hall with 15 other guys who probably piss all over the floors of the toilets and showers. Yet, Fatass seems to think it's okay to just waltz right in there without protection from the various fungi that inhabit the bathrooms here. This is why I keep my stuff far, far away from him and hate when he leans against my bed.

So he showers barefoot without soap and then comes back and sprays himself with half a bottle of Bod spray. I'm typically still asleep by this time, but I always wake up because of the horrendous odor. Disgusting.

So yeah, not a good way to start to the day.

Dumb Shit My College Does

So before tonight's fun of phone calls, bed lounging, and tobacco smells, my original intent was to post about Big State U. Since I'm not tired and I'm currently enjoying a late night meal of a Subway sub, Baked Lays, and Diet Pepsi (commence corporate cocksucking), I figure I'll continue with the regularly scheduled programming.

So seriously, what the Christ, Big State U?

I realize that Generic Residence Hall was built in 1971, but you'd think that you'd be able to install new locks every once in a while??? I guess not.

This was the tangent pounding in my head at 11 o'clock this morning as I waited for Ye Olde Campus Locksmith to arrive. After my first class of the day let out early, I decided it was a good time to catch up on my blogs. So I go back to my room and the door opens just fine. I set my stuff down and fired up the computer, when I felt the need to piss. Not about to ignore nature (unlike Fatass), I walk down the hallway to the bathroom. Normally I don't close the door, but I guess I was in a hurry because the door shut behind me.

So I pissed and I washed my hands. I enter the code to get back into the room. It doesn't work. I figure my hands are just wet so I wipe them off on my shirt. I enter the code again - still nothing. So I do it about 15 more times, just to make sure I'm not being an idiot. I look up at the names on the door to make sure I'm not being an idiot of Fatass-like proportions. It's my door, all right. I look at my watch. 10:55. Fuck!

So I track a janitor down, thinking they may have a key. They don't, but they offer to find the phone number. So I follow the janitor down to the basement and into their breakroom, which is actually pretty awesome. I don't know what it is about hidden breakrooms, but it makes it seem like an awesome secret club that I just want to be a part of. I digress...

So I get the phone number for the locksmith and call them up. They say they'll be a few minutes. Clock strikes 11. FUCK! So I'm tapping my feet, my inner monologue is coming up with new curse words to describe Big State U, and somehow toward the middle of it all, I get the song "I'm Still Standing" by Elton John stuck in my head. Still can't explain that one.

The guys finally show up with a brand new lock. After they get there, it's only a matter of minutes. They unscrew the screws, take out the old lock, insert the new one, screw things back in, and we're good to go (bonus points for the most creative "That's what she said" joke out of all that). However, at this point, my watch is reading 11:07. I stay outside my room, watch as the guy opens the door with no problem, and run to class without grabbing my bag. We were being assigned groups today, and I figured it would be best to be as close to on time as possible.

So I run over to the classroom and I've got to sit in front, which means looking like a jackass and walking in front of everybody to get to the fucking seat. I sit down and he has me fill out an index card. I have no pen, because my bag is in my room. This one's on me. I was in a rush, I left my back, I suck. I take my medicine like a man. So I borrow a pen and a sheet of paper. I look like an asshole, but life goes on.

See, that's the trick about college, boys and girls. There are assholes everywhere that you can spot, but you've got to be able to spot the times that you're an asshole and correct the behavior so that you're not a constant asshole like Fatass here. We go to college to learn, and only 20% of it is in the classroom... or something like that. I don't know; I'm just making this stuff up as I go along.

LIAR!!!

Double posting because of double dumb shit!

Fatass is now talking to Bess on the phone while Bitchface is in the room. She is now leaning against Fatass's bed because I gave her the look of death. Both of them smell like tobacco from their "walk", so I want them to be nowhere near me. It's bad enough they're in the room.

But the first thing out of Fatass's mouth is that "Oh, Bitchface went back to her room to do homework." LIAR! Unless I'm taking drugs (which I'm not, though I probably should be on some antipsychotics), she is sitting RIGHT FUCKING HERE AT THE SIDE OF HIS BED LIKE A FUCKING PUPPY. Now he says she's not feeling well due to issues going on personally. Yup, so she comes here. Maybe if I break her fucking nose do something unpleasant that is not abusive like my roommate, she'll get the picture that she's not welcome here and then really have something to not feel well about. Fucking bitch.

So yup, Fatass is talking to his barely legal girlfriend... oh yeah, I forgot to mention that. He's 23. She just turned 17 a couple months ago. They've been dating over a year. I can't wait to see this guy on To Catch A Predator. Chris Hansen would have a field day with him. So anyway, he's talking to Bess and lying to her about her presence in the room. Way to go, schmuck.

And now here comes the fireworks in tonight's program. Bess says something that pisses Fatass off. This causes him to spout verbally abusive shit about how he's going to smack her the next time she's here. Lovely. Ladies and gentleman, the abusive redneck. So now I'm going to listen in to their conversation.

He wants to know why Bess is jealous of him and Bitchface. MAYBE IT'S BECAUSE SHE'S FUCKING HERE EVERY DAY! I would be to, you fat fuck! And then he's just rolling his eyes and brushing it off like it's nothing. But he does have a point. She does have nothing to be jealous about, because Bitchface is too old for his tastes. Oh, and now he's sorry. Sure, buddy. We'll see what happens when you talk to her tomorrow night, you swine.

AND NOW HE'S WONDERING WHAT'S BOTHERING HER!!! Jesus Christ you inbred fuck! Don't you listen at all? And now he's getting pissed about her saying, "I'm pissed about nothing." Because she realizes it does no good to argue with him. "That's what you're thinking," he says angrily. Wow, he's a hillbilly mindreader! Amazing! Read this, fuckhead, "YOU. ARE. A. DOUCHEBAG." That's what I'm thinking you preteen sister-fucking prick. What right does he have to be angry with her when Bitchface is over here every god damn night. Jesus Christ.

And now he goes ahead and slams the window open and closed. URRGGGH... FATTY ANGRY!!! FATTY SMASHHHHH! He has a bit of a problem believing she's not just saying "nothing" to get him to shut up. I'm having a bit of a problem not taking a carving knife, chopping off his tits, and choking him with them.

"Would it make you feel better if I only saw her for meals?" I don't know about Bess, but it'd make ME feel better. But Fatass is a greedy fuck, so I'm guessing that's not gonna happen.

And now he wants to know what she did in school today. You know, HIGH SCHOOL. Be right back; I'm going to go throw up now....

Okay, I'm back, and it seems the conversation has died down. Now their conversation has bored me, so I'm done with this. I'm putting my headphones in and praying he doesn't start trying to talk to me once he hangs up. We're going on an hour and a half of conversation and the past 45 minutes have been relatively tame, so I'm about to wrap this up. Hopefully this gives you a better picture.

Yeah, pretty sure this is my bed

Who the fuck do they think they are? I mean, seriously. I know the TV is facing my side of the room when not turned, but it's fucking turned toward his bed. Why, therefore, do Fatass and Bitchface feel it necessary to lean right up against the side of my bed to play video games or type on the laptop or do their general weirdness. If it wasn't for a love of all things that belong to me, I would take a big ol' dump and rub the shit on the side of the bed they lean against. Seriously, fuck them.

The good thing about Bitchface is that she's stopped talking to me. Apparently, she's still holding a grudge from mid to late-November when I told her that it was none of her business what I was doing on my laptop. Hey, usually I don't like being hated, but in this case, the feeling is mutual, bitch. The less you talk to me, the better I feel.

Speaking of Fatass and Bitchface, they do this creepy thing every night before she leaves. They hug. Every night. He's about 5 inches taller than her, so it's inevitable that she gets a face full of mantits. And now he's petting her head. Yeah, if they're not fucking, I'm the Pope. So now, Bitchface is sitting on Fatass's bed, snuggling up to his blanket and just in the fetal position. This is beyond fucked up. At least I can just sit there and be silent and only speak when spoken to. I was asked how my day was. I lied, because fuck it. I don't want to talk to them. I'm happy being in my own little silent shell, but Fatass is in for a surprise at the end of the school year. I might just take a big ol' shit on his bed right before I leave for home.

Thankfully, they've now left. They're taking a walk or some stupid thing that makes me think they're fucking. Anyway, after a shitty day, I'm ready to just unwind, but stupid shit sucks. I haven't killed them yet, though.

Gee, I wonder why your roommate hates you

So after a relatively quiet and relaxed day today, I was looking forward to some time alone. Fatass was actually offering to *leave* the room, which was fucking amazing. He decided to go visit Bitchface in her room. Good times. I was really pleased to hear this. But, since I'm blogging, you know it was too good to be true, right? Right.

They come back to my room an hour later because Bitchface is having issues with her roommate. Apparently, her roommate can't stand her, and rather than going to the RA or going someplace that's not my room, they come... wait for it... TO MY FUCKING ROOM.

So right now, there's a miserable annoying little bitch in my room playing video games... and Bitchface is here too. So mcuh for a nice quiet night. Now I have to listen to them button mash and fail at video games all night. Seriously, you've got no other ideas? If your roommate is being tough, do what I do - bitch about it! Don't storm out and come over to places you're not welcome (yeah, this has been every day since we've gotten back), and just deal with it. I deal with it through blogging and blowing snotrockets onto Fatass's bed. Bitchface, do the world a favor and find a coping mechanism or just die already. Please?

So not only that, but as I'm trying to blog this, Fatass is doing the annoying thing of trying to look over my shoulder at either the TV or the computer screen. Next time he looks over, I'm going to a weird fetish porn site. Think Clerks 2. Nah, he's a hillbilly fuck, so he might be into that. I'll have to think of something else... Hmm...

But the weirdest thing is that we have two TVs, mainly because of the fact that him or Bitchface are ALWAYS playing video games. So I finally took my 8" TV from home and a cable splitter. Problem solved. Only problem is that now he looks on at my screen. Did I mention that the 8" TV I own has a headphones jack that is always plugged in so I don't need to listen to his shit? Yeah, so he's just looking at the purty pictures that confuse him so very very much.

And then the fucking retarded part! He tries to talk to me while my headphones are plugged in. He thinks that even when it's clear that I'm typing or watching TV that I am listening or even care about what he's saying. Seriously, if I'm typing away, chances are I don't care at all about you. I probably discussed this yesterday, but I can't remember. If I already did, tough shit.

But, in a stroke of good news, I haven't had to see his asscrack all day. Thank God for little miracles.

Welcome to My Passive-Aggressive World

So, I suppose the first thing I should do here is what every other self-important technodick does when starting a blog and welcome you here and tell you what this blog is about. Since I happen to be a self-important technodick myself, I'll be following that cliched tradition. Welcome.

This blog is pretty self-explanatory. Dumb shit my roommate does. Thanks to the wonders of the state education system in Big State, I'm living on campus with a roommate I despise. Simple as that. In order to protect myself from possible lawsuit if the jerkoff tries to kill himself from the mean things I say, I've decided to change names around into more amusing things.

DISCLAIMER: All that you are about to read are my inner monologues, unless I'm describing a verbal cofrontation. I have talked to Fatass several times about his behavior and even brought it up to my RA, but I haven't seen dick for change. Therefore, rather than kill the little prick, what you're about to read is my coping mechanism.

So we'll start right off with today. I've already been in a bad mood because Big State University decided that winter weather isn't a top concern, so I was fucked from the get-go. Any attempt at getting out of my parking space in the residential lot was thwarted by the fact that there was a foot and a half of snow on the ground and no signs of plows coming through any time soon. So that put me in an already pissy mood.

So I decided to do a bit of laundry, since Fatass was gone for the day. Now, normally, when someone says they're gone for the day, they're... well... gone for the day. Right? Wrong. I finish my laundry and begin to relax, and then, at 4pm, Fatass and Bess walk back into the room. Fatass's first words, "Oh, you got out of work early? You bastard."

Yeah, well up yours, fuckwad. I didn't even bother correcting that it's like Hoth out there in the parking lot because I really don't want to give him an excuse to open up his fat fucking piehole. I mean, it was pretty obvious that they wanted to have sex, but seriously, they can do that at her house or her grandma's house or even in a hotel room. All I know is I'm paying $3,000 for this room, and I'm not getting sexiled on a day where I'm buried on campus.

So what do they do? First, he takes off his shirt so that his bitchtits can catch whatever breeze is in this room. Then, the two of them lay on his bed and start making out. Did I mention we share the same room? So apparently it's the new "in thing" to make out while your roommate is right there. Perhaps I'll bring K-Star up one night without telling him and just start ramming my tongue down her throat. Karma's a bitch, asshole.

Now, that's the annoying part. That's not even the dumb shit part. As they're laying on the bed, his fatass plumber's crack staring me in the face, begging for me to look at it, he blows a noxious fart. You know the kind of farts you rip out just before you have to take a shit that tells you, "Hey! It's time to get on the can now!"? Yeah, one of those. Rather than go the two doors down to the bathroom and fire one off, he decides to wait a while. He wafts in the smell and lets out another one. At this point, I'm sure he's soiled himself, but to him and Bess, it's like everything's fine. I know they're country redneck fucks, but seriously, if you can't tell when you need to take a shit, you've got issues. That's stuff you learn at 4 years old at the latest, my friends.

So then, after he farts enough to make the Center for Disease Control declare our room a Level 5 biohazard, he turns to me and goes, "What stinks?"

I just kind of looked at him in shock. I would have dropped my jaw if it weren't for fear of having my face melt a la Raiders of the Lost Ark. If you seriously think it's me, you'd better take one long, lasting whiff of your ass, which was likely created by KFC Double Down sandwiches and chili cheese fries washed down with bacon grease.

That's not to say I don't enjoy a good fart. Hell, I can even appreciate some real stinkers if they're in the right setting. But to blow a pre-shit fart in a room with not only your roommate but your GIRLFRIEND there too? That's just fucked up. I mean, fuck! I don't think K-Star has ever even farted in my presence... though that may just be because she's too modest. Still trying to break that wall down.

So anyway, after the fumes clear, I figure the bastard must have just shat his pants. For the love of God, I'm hoping I was wrong, because the next thing they do is start spanking each others' asses. Yep, still right here in the room, fuckheads. You're kissing and spanking and I'm right here, but hey, it must be okay because I'm constantly wearing headphones. Nope, the reason why I'm constantly wearing headphones is to make you think that I'm listening to music when I just really couldn't give a shit about the meaningless ventures you call lives.

But yeah, when did it become okay to spank each other and make out in broad daylight with a roommate that is very clearly awake??? I mean, I can understand if I'm asleep, because I'm a very heavy sleeper, but I was sitting bolt upright on my bed, on top of the covers with my eyes open and typing! Guess it's cool! Fuck making out. Next time K-Star is here and he's in the room, I'm going to just pull her pants down and start tonguebathing her clit. If that doesn't get the point across, I don't know what will. Then again, he's a stupid fuck.

So finally they leave. My eyeballs are too busy being glued to ESPN.com to see whether or not he put a shirt on before leaving, but it doesn't really matter much. All the t-shirts he owns are too small, so he's got his fat gut flopping out over the waistband of his jeans and under his shirt. I wasn't joking when I said hillbilly redneck fuck.

Before he closes the door, he says he'll be back later, as if I cared about his whereabouts or his general wellbeing. You want to say something that will pique my interest? Say you're leaving and never coming back. That'll put me in such a good mood that the rays of sunshine emitting from my body will melt all this goddamn snow.

But seriously, don't come back.