My typical weekend

The preferred sex pose
of Fatass and Bess.

It's a miracle. It's my last weekend up here at Big State U for the semester, and it's my last weekend of putting up with the fat fuck I happen to share a living space with. In that spirit, it's about time to reveal what Pissy's Average Weekend is like.

On Friday, I get up after Fatass so that I can change into my towel in my room and then go take a shower. I then go to work for a couple of hours, then have an hour break, and then to class and then work again.

And then, I'm forced to return to the place that I hate the most - my room. Fatass is usually sitting on the floor, resting his bulbous head against the side of my bed while playing video games, and Bitchface is usually sitting down right next to him, cuddling up to his fat and reading her book. This weekend was no different. I step over them, I check my email, I ignore them.

Eventually, Fatass leaves for wherever the hell he goes to meet Bess. The first thing I do at that moment is open the blinds. He may fear The Red Car, but I have no such paranoia, and I happen to like natural light, no matter what Ma Pissy thinks.

I then unplug my headphones, because those are only used when he's in the room so I can ignore him. I turn the TV up, I settle down at my desk and then do whatever I wish.

On Saturday, he and Bess return to the room while I'm asleep for some unknown reason. She scoffs because I'm sleeping and he sets his bag on his bed - you know, things that can wait until 11:30 when I typically wake up on weekends.

I usually go to work, and they come back at some point so they can get to fucking. Fortunately, because I'm at work, I don't have to deal with that shit. I get back from work later on at night, and they're typically off doing whatever at Bess's grandma's house.

On Sunday, it's the exact same thing. I go to work, they come back to fuck and leave, and then I get back and have to deal with the raw stink of their hideous bodies.

This weekend, however, is different. Because of finals week, I'm not working this weekend. I have studying that I need to do, so I'm going to be holed up with books and notes all weekend. Fatass is pissed about it because he doesn't get a chance to fuck. But that's okay! He's found a way around that, just like everything!

Last night, as he talked to Bess, he said, "Oh, it's okay. Pissy gave us the room for an hour."

No I fucking didn't, and I called him on it. He gets off the phone and tells me it's only an hour, and he'd appreciate any consideration I could give him. I chuckled a little and said whatever.

So at some point, they're going to fuck for an hour, while I've gotten next to zero this entire damn year (sorry to friends who don't need to know that about me, but I'm just sayin'). I mean, they can't go six goddamn days? That's a pretty big fucking issue. Here's a novel idea - give yourself the ol' low five for a fucking weekend and get back to your normal schedule next weekend.

So here's my plan for when they come back. Contrary to Fatass's belief, I've got friends up here. I'm going to use these friends. All Big State University friends that read this blog, kindly stop by the room on my cue and knock on his door to disrupt their shit. If they get an hour, they're going to have the most hellish hour in the history of attempted fucking. I will do my part and call in a quiet hours violation on their cowfucking. I'll kindly explain to the RA on duty that I reluctantly agreed to their use of the room for an hour, but my attempts at studying in the lounge are being hindered by their disgusting sex noises. Kharmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

I'm sick and tired of his complete lack of respect for me that he tries to play off as being nice. As one of my favorite professors up here says, "You can't bullshit a bullshitter." And despite being smacked down at every chance, he still tries and tries and tries.

So now I'm in a situation where I need to go out with a bang. I need to do something to show him that I hate every single ounce of him while being creative. The thought of the note with the blog link seems to simple and could result in unwanted hate mail that I'd be too lazy to delete, so I don't know. Any thoughts from you all?

I guess it IS Easter...

The propoganda Fatass used to lure
a then-16 year old into bed with him.

... but that does NOT give you an excuse for fucking like jackrabbits for a week straight. Today I walk in from work study, figuring Fatass would be in class like he normally is, seeing that he's trying to graduate this May. Nope. He and Bess are in the room fucking.

Now, I figured that he'd at least have the common decency to say "hold on a second" while they get decent, but nope. I open the door and a blanket is being hastily thrown around them. Look, I know that Bess has spread her legs so wide this week that even Madonna is getting jealous, but I do not want or care to see their fat naked bodies pressed up against each other while the scent of Fishy Joe's fills the entire room.

I mean, I don't think it's that much to ask, really. There are almost 3 weeks left in the semester, and it's to the point where even as a communications major, I have shit to do. Right now, I'm typing away in a computer lab because I'm sexed out of my room. It's a good thing I've already finished my major project that's due on Friday. Did that this afternoon, because I had a feeling after spending every night fucking at Bess's grandma's house, they'd come back here for some afternoon delight at my own expense.

Don't get me wrong. I don't mind afternoon sex. Hell, if I wasn't so busy, I'd try to be a member of the Starland Vocal Band, but no. College ain't about this. It took me a good long while to learn that, but it's cool to do whatever on the weekends (IF YOUR ROOMMATE IS OKAY WITH IT), but once Monday hits, it's business in the mornings and afternoons.

Fatass, I've tried to talk to you about it and I've tried to reason with you, but this just crosses the line. Next time I see your fat hairy ass sticking out from under a blanket while you smother your girlfriend in your bitchtits, I am going to take that knife that you hide in your closet and chop your fucking balls off. I'm sick of this shit.

As you all can see, I've picked one hell of a time to start the blog back up. After seeing much more of Fatass and Bess than I would ever care to see, I proceeded to vomit in my mouth, like any other human being that has... what's the word I'm looking for? Oh yeah. MORALS. Anywho, after that, he has the nads to say to me, "Sorry for the mess."

Yeah, you're lucky I'm not having a bad day or I would have said something to the tune of, "Hey, if you're cool with your mantits, I guess it's not my place to compl... oh, you're talking about the clothes on the floor." Damn you, hindsight.

So now my day (and night, by association) has been ruined. I've been scarred for life, I've gotta deal with the horrific smell of the wharf in my room for the rest of the day, and I've got to actually be in my room to do the rest of my homework. I'm not sure Fatass knows what that is, unless he breaks it down into small syllables, but even then, I think he may think "home" means "pussy" and "work" means "cock". Yeah, maybe in porno films. And I've got news for ya, buddy. Your prick isn't big enough.