Finals Week Bitching: Day 1 of 4



Chris Hansen:
Fatass's mortal enemy
and worst nightmare.

 So it is officially that time. It's finals week, which means that I'm in an intense state of studying. However, I think that it's more than appropriate to update all of you on the dumb shit my roommate does. Shall we start with when he came back last night? After all, that's when all the bullshit started again.

Well, it first started with him closing the blinds and glaring at me, because in his mind, it's a sin and a felony that I don't fear The Red Truck. So you knwo what I did today after I got back from my final? That's right, the blinds are open again. Funny thing is that there really is a red truck out there. I kinda want Fatass to see so that he'll start panicking, but I don't want to deal with the smell of him shitting himself.

Back to last night... I'm sitting at my computer reading over some notes and watching an episode of "The Office" on my computer as background noise. I hear Fatass bang his hand into the door as he enters the code, which makes me snicker. He lumbers into the room and guess who's in his wake? That's right, it's Bitchface! Obviously you've seen that he has no problem stepping over lines. Habitually. He's a habitual line-stepper (thanks Charlie Murphy). So why would last night be any different? Well, for one, I put a kabosh on that bullshit right away. I said, "Whoa now. I'm studying here."

"Oh, it's ok. We're just going to eat and then she's going to leave... if that's okay with you."

Oh yeah, sure. How about I knock all your teeth out so you can eat through a straw from now on, you fucking prick? How about this. How about for once in your miserable life, you decide to be somewhat respectful of someone else's need to study and get out.

I mean, he walks around this room like he owns the place, which is pretty pathetic. He owns this room which is smaller than my room at home and it's like he's the king of it. Well, unfortunately the world has news for him: just because you're a fat fuck does not mean that you're entitled to everything on earth. Being a big man does not mean that you've got a big personality. Honestly, he's nothing but a bitchtit swinging bully who needs to grow up. If it was anyone else, they would have punched the kid in the face. I, however, have more enjoyable ways of tormenting his soul... like leaving a little sticky note on his pillow with the link to my blog when all is said and done.

Therefore, it's time for an open letter!

Dear Fatass,

I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR MALODOROUS PATHETIC LIFE.

Cordially,
Pissy

P.S.: Chris Hansen called. He wants you to have a seat over there.

So... what the fuck?

My room when Fatass is here.

Apparently it's now cool for anyone and everyone to come over to my room on the GOD DAMN WEEK BEFORE FINALS. His junkie brother is now in the room just standing around and talking to Fatass, and of course, Bitchface is here. Why wouldn't she be?

So she begins by saying, "I wouldn't be over here if it weren't for my suitemates being bitches." Oh I'm sorry, but you know what? That's not my fucking problem. If you have problems with your suitemates, you talk to the RA or do what I do and make an angry, passive-aggressive blog. But you do NOT come to other people's rooms on the week before finals and be obnoxiously loud and play video games!

Seriously, it's like I live in a world where respect and courtesy have never even been heard of. But seriously. What. The. Fuck. They're talking at obnoxiously loud volume about a fucking flashlight. I guess we haven't comprehended the concept of "light" around here. And now they go ahead and talk trash about the same kid again. I guess they need to compensate for their lack of dicks by continuing to make idle threats.

Yup, and we're still being obnoxious douchebags, and now my urge to kill is rising. Seriously, no goddamn courtesy. And you wonder why they got kicked out of Bitchface's suite. Fuck. This. Shit.

To my Cousin, the Fed,

Get your ass up here. NOW. Gun is preferred but not required.

Thanks,
Pissy

I am done with this shit.

Take your bitching to someone who gives a damn

Fatass (over)reacting to my
legitimate need to do homework today.
Yes, he does look like this all the time.

Fatass officially crossed the line today. I came back from work and needed to do a gigantic heap of homework, all of which needed to be done on my laptop, because that's generally the way of things these days, even if Fatass hasn't picked up on it yet.

So anyway, I have to do work and Fatass and Bitchface are, of course, sitting on his bed doing nothing in particular, which makes me think they've been making out. I'm probably not that far off, either. So I sit down and we do the usual "how was your day" bullshit that I just zone out during.

Then I start typing up my paper because that's what normal college students do. He looks at me and then at my computer screen and then back at me.

"So... you doing homework?"

Nope, I'm just writing essays about the 2008 recession for my health. So he groans and tells Bitchface that they're going to go to the lounge, because he knows better than to ask me if she can stay while I'm doing work. I've already laid down the law about that once this past fall.

So he comes rolling back into the room about 10 minutes later and I'm still typing away, but this time I have the TV on. I find that if I have background noise going, I'm able to relax a little more and get my work done. Fatass just glares at the screen and then back at me.

"How's the homework coming?"

Not bad at all, you pretentious dicklicking fuck. It doesn't, has never, and will never ever in a hundred billion years and beyond matter what you think. And that just doesn't go for me either, you fat as hell waste of space. Not a single soul will give a damn about what you think for the rest of your pathetic, meaningless existence. You know why? Because respect isn't given. It's earned. And you haven't earned jacksquat. So you can take your bitchtits, your two annoying jaded bitches, and your horrendous smells right to the streets, because that's the only place that will ever be home to you.

So then I go to my group meeting, and I come back, and there are Fatass and Bitchface again, both of them glaring at me. I considered giving them the double bird, but decided it'd piss them off more for me to just get back to work. I start typing away, and the massive putrid wart goes on and calls one of the random people in his life that barely tolerate him. He gabs away for some stupid thing for about 10 minutes, trying to get under my skin, periodically looking over at my screen.

I've now realized that he has piss poor vision because I was typing nothing but insults at him in a Word document the whole time. So finally he runs out of shit to say, or, more likely, he's pushed off the phone by whoever he was talking to, groans, and then him and Bitchface leave again.

K-Star says that Fatass is a boil on the ass of humanity. I pretty much agree, but add "hairy" and "smelly" to the metaphor. K-Star has also realized, through Skype being able to pick up all audio from the room, that Fatass makes stereotypical fat man sounds and feels bad that I have to live with that. Two more weeks...

So now I'm settled in for the night, and Fatass asks when I have class tomorrow. What the hell? I mean, not only has it been over three months, but even still, why should I even tell you? Maybe if you started caring about your own classes rather than mine, you wouldn't have to panic about all your classes in the next 2 weeks.

Oh, by the way, I spoke with one of your classmates after you finished your exam in 5 minutes the other day. The teacher took one look at it and shook her head.

As one final side note, Fatass told Bess the other night that it is impossible to surprise him. More being een-veen-cee-bull. It is apparently "literally impossible" to surprise Fatass. I got two words for you. Surprise, motherfucker.

So you want to be a samurai...

Fatass's fantasy job/ LARP char.
I think Bess might be the horse. 

As promised last night, here is the anticipated blog post about Fatass's incomprehensible desire to be a samurai warrior or something. I have no idea where he conceived this idea, but it was likely the result of an anime and alcohol binge and he must have thought that his drunk idea was a good'n.

Let my punch holes into Fatass's hopes and dreams right from the get-go. Samurai were the warrior nobles of pre-industrial Japan. Not only has that ship sailed YEARS ago, but he's... well... he sure ain't noble.

Another problem here - samurai also are heavily influenced by Buddhism and Zen, which promote non-violence and reincarnation, so it's kind of pointless to go making threats about taking someone's life, like Fatass does at least once a week. So that's basically what being a samurai is about and Fatass has the problem of not having any sort of crucial samurai characteristics.

All he's running on is delusions of grandeur. He decided this semester to get a tattoo on his arm of what he thinks is the Japanese symbol for "honor" or something. However, he has based that on a poster he bought for $6.99 at Wal-Mart. Yikes. And the tattoo is this microscopic little thing that makes it look like a small woodland creature took a dump on his arm. Who knows, maybe one did! Couldn't make him smell any worse!

I have never seen him in samurai garb (probably because he can't afford it) and I have never seen him try to establish a sense of inner peace required to be a true samurai (probably because he can't comprehend it). The "honor" tattoo goes to show the greatest problem in his miserable life - he's nothing but a tool.

Now he's getting a tattoo, yeah,

He's getting ink done.

He asks for a 13,

But they drew a 31.

Friends say he's trying to hard,

and he's not quite hip,

But in his own mind, he's the,

He's the dopest trip.

Video can be found below, because I'm awesome and know how to provide you links that let you flash back to years past: 

But hey, as the song suggests, everything he lacks, he makes up in denial. I shudder to think of his self-image. Perhaps he sees himself as this svelte samurai that's oh so honorable, but all I see is a smelly bitch that doesn't know aristocracy from his asshole.  

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.