Skipping classes all over the place

Fatass hunched over his chair
while he plays video games.

LOL = laugh out loud
LMAO = laugh my ass off
LMFAO = laugh my fucking ass off
LFO = one hit wonder / laughing, fucking off

Fatass is doing the latter. It's 2pm and it's time for Fatass to go to the class he's doing miserably in. This is the same class where he turned in his exam after 5 minutes and the professor just shook her head. Fatass is so fucked that he'll have to come back for another semester and guess what? It's not going to be with me. Fucking schmuck.

I mean, it's really not that difficult of a concept to grasp. You have a class you need in order to graduate? YOU GO TO CLASS. But instead, Fatass is just playing video game games. Just when you think he couldn't get any more useless, he goes and finds a way.

Pa Pissy has a term for guys like that - "Shit Sweepers", because all they'll ever do with their pitiful, meaningless lives is sweep shit off the street. Did I mention Pa can be an old man sometimes and harken back to a day where horse-drawn carriage was a primary mode of transport?

When I see Fatass, I also think of K-Star's great-uncle that did the exact same thing. Uncle Lazy was committed to the local hospital in their permanent care ward because all he wanted to do was absolutely nothing. I can see Fatass doing this a year from now, not 50 years down the road like Uncle Lazy. In the end, Uncle Lazy had a catheter, a colostomy bag, and was okay living like that. He died a couple of weeks ago.

I can see Fatass walking down the same road as Uncle Lazy, but he won't be nearly as quotable or nearly as interesting as Uncle Lazy. And you know why? Because Fatass is a no-good lousy douchebag that doesn't know the concepts of common courtesy or respect for others. He should have died before Uncle Lazy. If that were the case, a bigger waste of life would have been ridded from this planet.

I am eenveen-cee-bull, Part II

Youuuuuuu betcha!
But in his mind, Fatass is Brad Pitt.

As you know from my most recent grumblings, finals week is coming up on us. This is the last week of classes and next week is finals. Good times. However, it appears that Fatass is so shockingly amazing at everything forever that he doesn't need to study at all.

As I've said before, my covert ops personnel in his classes with him have all said that there is no possible way that he can pass certain classes, and yet here he is living in this delusional dream world where he's skipping classes and playing video games. As someone who USED to do that, it fucking pisses me off that a fat waste of space is doing something better than I ever could. Yeah, I'm pretty competitive.

So today I come back from shooting one of my final productions and there's Fatass buttonmashing and saying "god fucking dammit" twenty billion times, completely ignoring the fact that he has class. As I walk past, he unleashes a toxic bomb that makes me want to take a lead pipe to his temples.

So then I leave again, because I have, you know, CLASSES TO GO TO. When I come back, he's gone. Probably means that Bitchface's roommate was gone and the gettin' was good. Whatever. So I start to do some work on another project, praying that he just stays away as long as possible... two seconds after I think about it?

Here he comes, sloshing his beer gut into the doorframe. I'm frankly amazed that he can still get into the room, but he made it in alright. "Oh, hey bud... is it cool if I play video games? That is, if I'm not distracting you from your work..."

Listen, you bulbous piece of monkey shit, you and I both know goddamn well that the only reason you're asking it is because you want to be able to say you asked, and then you go and do it anyway. We've established this pattern before, so why don't you save the flapping of your lips for the cock you're going to suck later on, k?

So I mutter something about going to dinner and leave, because the more time I have away from his fat body, the better. 10 fucking days.

I get back into my room, and there he is, but the only change is that he's decided to once again go topless, picking the scabs off his fat back while mashing buttons with the other hand, then wiping the scabs off on the bottom of his seat. Man, I'd hate to be the kid living here next semester... well, I'd hate to be the kid living on his side of the room, that is.

So let me paint this mag-fucking-nificent picture for you: here we have a bright sunny day, but the blinds are down and drawn because of Fatass's inane paranoid fear of The Red Truck. My light, which was on before I left for dinner, is now off, further proving his disrespect for my stuff. I'm laying on my bed and typing. Fatass is sitting on a chair with the rolls falling from either side of it, and I fear that it might give at any second. His fat fucking body is... well, if I can make up a word here, it's "shoobulling". Just say that word quickly and I think you'll have the right idea. It's the kind of noise that comes from excess fat being jostled around.

And that's not even the best part! He's still picking at his scabs, which means that he now has bleeding open sores all over his hairy back. I forgot to mention the grotesque amount of monkey hair he has there. His bitchtits are blowing in the breeze... well they would if the window was open. Apparently The Red Truck can attack him from open windows. His asscrack is hanging out from his jeans despite the use of a belt, and his creepy ass haircut makes him look like someone Chris Hansen would like to have a seat over there. He's staring mindlessly through broken glasses at a screen that's less than 8 inches from his face and continues to mash buttons, saying "god fucking dammit" every 15 seconds or so.

And all the while, there are final projects and papers to do and presentations to ready for, but fuck that! He's een-veen-cee-bull. He can do whatever he wants, finish a test in 5 minutes by scribbling god only knows what onto the paper, and then leave. I'm going to laugh when I hear that he fucked up his last chance at passing college and getting a degree. Maybe it'll take him down a fucking peg or two.

But in the meantime, here's hoping this pathetic fat waste of life just keels over from a heart attack.

Cinco de Asshole

Fatass dressing up in a
highly offensive holiday costume.

Today, around college campuses everywhere, people are getting drunk in honor of the independence of a country we don't give a damn about and are usually very offensive to every other day of the year. And you know what? I'm not a holier-than-thou prick. I'm just as bad as every other American douche on Cinco de Mayo. The difference is that I acknowledge it. Though it's very tough to have fun on Cinco de Mayo when you're not able to drink alcohol.

But you're not here to read about me, are you? Nah, didn't think so. Time for more of the fat asshole!

Today, Fatass decided that he'd just not go to his 8am class, because he's doing ooooooh so grand in all his classes. He's een-veen-cee-bull, remember? He can just unleash one of his magical farts and all will be right in the world. How wonderful it must be to be as jaded as he. If I didn't hate him with every fiber of my being, I'd fear for him in the real world, but at this point, I hope the real world not only squashes him like a bug, but I also hope that the real world is one of those cruel kids that dismembers the bug, leaving no semblance of it whatsoever, just random bugparts.

Aaaaaaaaaaanywho... I'm back from class today, and after about 5 minutes of solitude, what happens? Fatass comes lumbering in, with Bitchface in tow. Seriously, what the fuck. This is three god damn days in a row, and you're not getting any when I'm in the room! Stop bringing her over!

So they come back, he takes off his coat, starts trashing on someone and says, "oh yeah, after being pinned against the wall four times, I'd avoid me too," sprays more of his Bod fragrance, and leaves.

Let's make this absolutely clear. I would not put up with him pinning ME against the wall to begin with. If he gets PMS and starts to get violent with me like he does with everyone else in his miserable life, he can bet his bottom dollar that I will not play fair.

See, I'm all for fighting by the rules and respect and all that, but again, respect is earned. If I am pinned against the wall, I will kick him in the balls until they're lodged so far in his body that they become ovaries. After he's doubled over in pain, I will stomp his worthless head into the floor until it gets through his thick skull that he picked the wrong guy to fuck with. But oops, it was all self-defense! He came at me!

I am absolutely sick of this bullshit, and now that finals are coming up, it's stressing me out even more. Maybe he could make the world a better place and just get hit by a car already. But that's highly doubtful, because my luck sucks.

DISCLAIMER: The above statements were meant as a coping mechanism and should not be misconstrued as threats of actual violence. Just thought I'd throw that out there, because yes, I am a very angry fellow.

Oh hey, I'm a college student!

Fatass studying... or looking
at online porn. Disgusting.

So it appears that after a week of pushing his diseased meat into his girlfriend, Fatass has realized that he actually has to try in order to pass and graduate this year. So normally, you'd think that he'd go into a study lab or something so that he could have complete quiet. However, as you all know by now, he's a complete inconsiderate jackass that doesn't deserve to live, so Bitchface is over here quizzing him, which means I have to listen to both of them. Thank heavens for iTunes.

So yeah, they're both sitting on the bed, and after a few hours of not studying and watching cartoons at an obnoxious volume, I'm back from dinner and here they are. Maybe I should be just give them the giant fuck you and blare my music while he tries to study. Lord knows he deserves it.

I don't even know why he bothers to acknowledge me, because I don't have the time or the desire to talk to him. If I do, it's only an excuse for him to open his cakehole. So on the average day, he asks me, "How was your day?" Fine. As someone who's not a douchebag, I'm obliged to ask about his, but I attempt to do it in a way that indicates I clearly don't care. Every single day, he replies, "Not too too bad." I wish this would be all he says to me, but no. He feels the need to try to further converse. Last night was just plain old fucking goofy, because I was settling into bed after putting my laptop down on my desk, and he goes "Good morning." What? I just ignore it, thinking he's talking in his sleep. Then he goes, "I didn't wake you, did I?" What the fuck??????

Only two and a half weeks and then finals left, then I can finally dismiss him from my life.

Permanent. Deletion.

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.