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.

More video game stupidity, and a little bit of K-Star

Fatass as Keeng of teh Gamez0rz!

So on top of all the other crap that has come to define my miserable existance while at school, Fatass has now begun to haunt even my most sacred of pasttimes - video game playing.

I'm sure I've brought this up before. Every time he does something poorly because his fat fingers can't mash the correct button, he says, "god fucking dammit". Every time. So whenever he fires up the video games, I'll hear this at least 40 to 50 times.

Not to mention that the game is usually some sort of stupid ass Dragonball Z game that he adores oh so much, because he legitimately believes he's a samurai. No, I'm not making this up. Yes, I will blog about this further in the near future. Yes, that is why I have become a ninja. Ninja always beats samurai. Why, you ask? Because I'm a ninja.

So in addition to the "god fucking dammits", and the retarded Dragonball Z crap, he also raises his voice to really obnoxiously loud levels where he's trying to sound like Jar Jar Binks. Now, I don't know if he's actually SEEN the Star Wars movies, but Jar Jar was the guy that everyone wanted to kill. Of course, he does all of this to try to impress Bitchface, who swoons over him like the turd she is. When Fatass gets worked up, she'll say it's just a game and try to do whatever. To quote good ol' Grandpa George, those two are "low-grade morons who ought to be locked into portable toilets and set on fire." Meh, at least it'd get publicity.

However, I realize that I can be a little crazy with video games, and here's where K-Star is particularly saintly. Sometimes, and this will come as a shock to you, I curse at my video games when I play poorly. K-Star's sweet virgin ears likely bleed profusely when this happens, but she deals with it anyway. Now, the difference between me and Fatass is that I vary my insults up.

While Fatass will say "god fucking dammit" about ten billion times, I prefer to go the more interesting route of saying "shit eating ballfucking whore of a manslut!" Sure it's a little verbose, but it definitely gets people's attention. And you vary it up! Next time, I might say "trampstamping teabagger with mismatched socks!" Makes no sense, K-Star is probably fainted, but my displeasure has been voiced.

Now we move to differences between K-Star and Bitchface. Bitchface fawns over Fatass while he plays his video games. She smiles and watches and probably rubs his shoulders while he plays, but I can't confirm or deny because I don't care enough about their meaningless existances. I swear to Christ, if I'm in the Matrix, the Architect has one hell of a vendetta against me.

Now, K-Star will tell me if I've gone too far. If I say something offensive or start making growling noises at the screen, she'll give me a weird look and say something like, "easy there, Pissy." She NEVER says it's just a game. The reason why is because of a mutual respect we have. She respects the fact that I know it's obviously just a game that I'm allowing to consume my soul for a brief time. I respect the fact that she's also a major part of my life and I don't want to drive her away by focusing attention on computer generated monsters. So if I cross the line, she tells me so, I roll my eyes because I'm very focused on my game, and I watch my insults. Simple enough.

But with the way Fatass and Bitchface interact during video games, it's like one of those wholly unnatural 1950s "good life" stereotypes, but replace the man sitting down smoking his pipe with a fat slob mashing buttons on a video game system. Keep the image of the wife looking up at dear husband, batting her eyelashes and absolutely thrilled at the prospect of flushing his shit down the toilet later that night. Bitchface makes me want to vomit.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to castrate some of the bitch-licking asshats that dominate the world of RPGs that don't have annoying Dragonball Z characters in it.

Video game stupidity

So I get back from class today and I'm enjoying some alone time before dinner. Of course, that's too good to be true. The second I decide it's time for dinner, Fatass comes in. Granted, it's cool that he arrived when I was about to leave, but that's not the douchebag part.

The douchebag part is him saying that he's not going to be here that long, and guess who's with him? That's right, it's Bitchface. So they both come in, even though "we're not going to be here that long." I say whatever, because I'm going to dinner anyway. I get back from dinner, and who do I see? Yup. That's right. Fatass and Bitchface leaning against my bed, playing video games. Apparently, "not that long" will translate until about midnight, and apparently, spring break has taught him nothing about respect for others' property. Not that I expect him to learn anything, because he's a retarded redneck fuck. No, I'm sorry, he's not a retard. That's too offensive... to retards. He's a motherfucking fatheaded, no-brained dickless lunatic that deserves to fail at everything in life forever.

So what are they doing while sitting against the side of MY bed? Well, Bitchface is doodling something unitelligible into her notebook, and Fatass is mashing his fat fingers against a video game controller. It wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so awful. Every 2 seconds, I hear, "God fucking dammit." Literally. Every. Two. Seconds. And then, if he does advance past the bad guys, he makes annoying sounds, like the sound of an alarm or an obnoxious scream or something else that makes me want to drive a railroad spike through his skull.

So what was supposed to be a night of freedom has turned into a disgusting, fish smelly (yes, I think they fucked, because it smells like a wharf) night of misery and hatred. Then again, I'm not surprised. This isn't the first or second time that this has happened, and if I remember correctly, he told Bess that Bitchface wouldn't be over anymore. There are no words that can describe the level of cuntwad this guy is.

And there it is again. "God fucking dammit."

You know what? God fucking damn YOU to the deepest bowels of hell.

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.

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.