"You'll only see me for a few seconds"

So on Friday, Fatass gave me some good news, but as you should always be wary of with this fat dickless fuck is the fact that there is always, always, ALWAYS a silver lining. For example, Friday he said, "Oh, you'll be able to enjoy the room all to yourself this entire weekend. You may see me for a few seconds, but that's it." Yeah, I've heard that one before.

So today, as I'm relaxing by playing a video game, guess what I hear? That's right, the familiar punches of the lock to my room. And who comes in? Not only Fatass, but Bess. Hey, there goes the few seconds! Fat fucking fuck. Remember how he was going to kill Bess if she was sick and contagious? Well, she's here now and she's coughing and sick. If she gets ME sick, I'm going to be really pissed off at both of them. Bess may be a confused little girl, but she doesn't put Fatass in line worth a damn, so fuck her too.

So I figure that maybe Fatass was just dropping off his books or something, but no way! He asks Bess what she wants to do. Obviously they want to fuck, but they won't say as much because apparently the cows that raised them taught them it's not polite to bring that up in conversation. Besides, you two mash hideous bodies every god damn weekend. It's been three fucking months since I've even TOUCHED K-Star, let alone massage her naughty parts.

So they're trying to get back at me for being in the room by turning on a shitty Vin Diesel movie while I'm trying to watch TV. What do I do? I turn up the TV louder. Says Fatass, "this isn't too loud for you, is it?" Nope, I'm just turning up the TV because I've developed sudden acute deafness.

So I've moved to my bed, and guess what I see? That's right, asscrack ahoy. He's got his shirt lifted up so that his belly is flopping against Bess's back (because hey, she might be into that), and he's rubbing her sides and making out with her and all this stupid shit, thinking that I'm just going to magically leave. Ah, it's apparently The Chronicles of Riddick, which ties into their love of shitty sci fi that everybody else hates. At least Judi Dench (M in the James Bond films) and the guy who voices over the Marines commercials is in it. That makes me laugh a little bit.

So, the point is that I'm not being sexiled this weekend. They had two fucking nights at Bess's grandma's house to fuck, so they're getting no action tonight.

Oh, did I mention that when they first got here, Fatass just left for five minutes to talk to someone, leaving Bess alone with the room with me? Hey, I'm not a fucking entertainer here, so I just sat there and played my game while she sat on his bed. I didn't say a word to her and I didn't even look at her. Eventually she left. Maybe she thinks I'm creepy, but fuck that bitch. I don't even care. Fuck them both in their necks.

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.