My 3rd Worst Roommate Ever

It was my sophomore year at Texas A&M University in College Station, TX—and for those of you who aren’t from Texas, in my opinion, it’s pretty much the coolest most funarific University ever. But that’s just my opinion.

I was living in the dorms and since none of my friends were going to be in that dorm, I went pot luck again, hoping this time the Collegiate Living Gods might smile upon me with a better roommate than I was given the year before.

I’ve honestly had some really bad luck with roommates in my college life.  The problem isn’t something stupid like “she borrowed my headband” or “hooked up with my boyfriend while I was passed out on Sunnybrook Whiskey.”

No, no, no. Those are merely trivial annoyances. My “Bad Roommates” were bad, simply because they were mean people and were really mean to me.

P.S. The fact that I mention Sunnybrook Whiskey is a little embarrassing because it pretty much tastes exactly like drinking a shot of suicide.

Ok, back on topic. This roommate of mine, her name was Brandy. This girl was about 5' 11'' and weighed like 110 pounds. So, she was this incredibly tall, thin blonde who apparently spent her free time as “a model.”

And you better believe she let it be known to anyone who would listen.

The thing about this girl though, was that in the modeling pictures she showed me, she looked pretty good. Like a real model.

But let me just say, that photoshop and airbrush artists must be like optical plastic surgeons.

I'll put it this way to all you men out there who drool (among other things) over these pictures of models: It is a wonder among wonders, what a computer can do for a person in a picture.

And that's all I'm going to say about her looks.

So, one of my problems with my roommate, Brandy was the fact that not only was she was an extremely over-dramatic person, but she always acted like talking to me or hanging out with me was an act of charity.

 

 A charity which I did not ask for.
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When you have a bad roommate, there are a couple of things you can do to cope. One is to put your differences aside, and try your best to get along. Or you can ignore them.

The problem was, Brandy would always volunteer her “charity” to hang out with me.

 

I was about ready to choose the 2^nd option one evening, until Brandy brought in her roommate from the year before, Kelly.

Before Kelly came over to hang out, I was very skeptical. I couldn’t picture someone who actually lived with this girl for an entire year, and still remained friends with her.

But when she got to our place, I was completely surprised.

This girl was really nice, had a cool personality and overall was completely normal. She and I hit it off, and I felt like she was someone who I could really be friends with.

What on earth was she doing being friends with Brandy? I wondered.

One evening Brandy invited me to go out to ‘da clubs and go dancing with her and Kelly.

Me: Sure! That sounds like fun.

Usually when I went out, I would just flat iron my hair. I was still getting used to the College Station humidity that was a breeding ground for sweat and frizz.

But that evening, for whatever reason, I decided to try something different.

I saw a picture of an up style I liked in a magazine and I did my best to emulate it.

I twisted and sprayed and fussed with my hair and then put a clip in when I finally had it in place.

I was pleased.

Brandy on the other hand, kept changing clothes…

And studying herself in the mirror….

Now, if you are a girl and you ever want to get on my last nerve here’s the easiest way: be really really skinny, and complain that you’re fat. I don’t give a crap about your body image issues. It’s ANNOYING and incredibly BORING.

What especially annoys me is if a girl is skinnier than me, calls herself fat and then looks to me for reassurance.

What I have presented to you in these drawings is an exact artistically accurate depiction of Brandy’s body. And as you can see, she was incredibly skinny.

And she knew it.

What she really wanted was a reaction, and wanted me to fall all over myself and tell her how skinny she was and that she was the greatest model that never was and blah blah. These were the things, that she already bragged about, so why did she need me to tell her?

I adamantly refused to be that girl, and was not going to humor her attempts at a compliment.

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So, we're at the club which was one of the newest bars in town. I can't remember the name but for those of you who lived in CS, it was on Harvey street, next to the Tap.

Walking into a club at 11pm is like stumbling into a middle of a conversation that's been going on for the past 5 minutes.

Things have been happening.. You're not sure what, but everyone around seems to be enjoying themselves. There's a lot of noise and confusion, but you don't want to look like you don't know what's going on. So you smile and nod your head, and try to look cool without making any major slip ups.

So, we're in the club and the beat is going.

Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst.

And there some robot repeating something pointless in the background like,

"The beat is a riot. The beat is a riot. The beat is a riot. The beat is, the beat is.The beat is a riot."

Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst.Oonst.

"The beat is a riot. The beat is a riot. The beat is a riot. The beat is, the beat is.The beat is a riot."

And then Rihanna comes in repeating an extremely simplistic lyric entirely off key, but that's ok, because she is the Great Ri-han-na.

"My heart is heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrreeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!"

Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst. Oonst.Oonst.

Suddenly, Brandy speaks up and the following conversation takes place:

Brandy: "The stereos are free tonight!"
Kelly: "Sweet!"
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Me: "Excuse me?"

"We like to dance on the speakers! Come on!"

Now, there are perfectly legitimate times when those words can be spoken:

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Ok so that last example was a bit of a stretch but I specifically posted it to further illustrate and emphasize how much I did not want to dance on the speakers and subject myself to being "That Girl."

But there was no stopping Brandy and Kelly.

They were going to hump some dang speakers.


As gracefully as ever humanly possible, I climbed on top of the stereos.
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Once up, I started to dance. I’m actually a good dancer, but for obvious reasons, was feeling self conscious being put on display.

Brandy and her crazy long arms were dancing behind me.

It was like she was trying to direct a train wreck with her elbows.

After every few beats, she would then point at a different person in the club. Did she know these people? Probably not.

Now, I’m not a person to make fun of other people’s dancing. 

I’m only pointing out her style because of the beating I took over the next few minutes.

So Brandy's arms were dancing behind me when..
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She hit me! It was obviously an accident.

I'd have trouble controlling my arms too if I danced like a coked up Frankenstein.

But then....
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My new hair style!

I tried to move away, but there wasn't anywhere to go on these speakers.

 

The thing was, Brandy didn’t even seem to notice or was pretending not to.

I wasn’t just going to stand there and subject my self to be reapeatidly slapped in the head. So, I decided it was time that my little adventure on the speakers needed to come to and end.

It was just a matter of getting down......

But it was too crowded on the floor around us.

 

Skanky people were all around me. Here I was getting beat up, and they were too focused on grinding with each other in rhythm to notice my distress.

I kept trying to find a route down from this makeshift stage of lost dignity, but the dance floor was getting thicker and thicker with people and they were coming closer and closer to me.

Well, apparently dancing in top of the speakers wasn’t something they encouraged in this particular establishment.

One of the bouncers came up to us and motioned for us to get off.
While Brandy cocked an attitude with the guy, I was desperately trying to get his help.

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Finally the bald bouncer man must have noticed my look of distress....

...and cleared the crowd and finally helped me down.

In the end, we finished the rest of the night dancing on the floor.

Later in the school year, Brandy ended up moving in with her older sister so she wouldn't have to pay for the dorms.

We didn't keep in touch.

And as it turned out, Kelly and I had another mutual friend, so I didn't have to go through Brandy after all.

In case you’re wondering; the roommate I had before is ranked as the 2^nd Worst Roommate I’ve Ever Had. So, I guess if we want to get technical, you could say that Brandy was an improvement.



Discussion:

So, this girl was your 3rd Worst Roommate. Are you ever going to write a post about your first and second worst?

Perhaps, I will but those two stories are just negative. I'd rather write about funny. But maybe I will one day.
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By the way, did you know that Sunny Brook Whiskey isn't actually whiskey? It's really vodka flavored whiskey. And if you've never heard of Sunny Brook: Don't feel bad. Don't google it. Just move on with your day and don't look back.

Did you notice that one guy's facial expression in the club picture?


                                            

                                                    Raunchy Dance Look.
                                                   Now that's a baby makin' face if I ever saw one.
                                                    Hide your ovaries ladies.

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The Time I Tried to Hit a Homeless Man with My Car; But Do Not Judge Me

One night recently my husband and I were sitting at Kelsey's Bar and Grill.

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I was having a little of the bar, and he was having a little of the grill.

We got on the subject of crazy things we did as kids. Back and forth we went each trying to "one-up" the other. This is the good stuff marriage is based on.

Well, Ryan had to go and get all high and mighty, so I had no choice but to bring out the big guns.

Me: Oh yeah? Well when I was 16 I tried to hit a homeless man with my car.

He stared at me for a moment.

Ryan: You mean to say, you almost accidentally hit a homeless man with you car.....

Ryan: Right?

Me: Nope. I tried to hit him on purpose.

Ryan: What happened?

Me: He moved out of the way.



He continued to stare at me; probably questioning his decision on getting married.



Now, before I continue and you all think I'm some crazed murderous banchee, I want you to know that after I told this story to Ryan, he understood where I was coming from. So read on before thouest judge.

It all began one Sunday morning when me and my family were all getting ready to go to church.

Me, being the sleep deprived procrastinator I always was, was way behind schedule. And on that day, I was feeling extra sleepy and extra ornery.


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My mom must not have had a very good night's sleep because she threw her hands up in a fit of rage a little earlier than usual that day.




Mom: That’s it. We’re leaving now! You can drive yourself to church!

 Hmmm….


The idea of this newly granted independence thrilled me. We had always gone to church together and never had a I been granted reprieve from the family car ride.


It was thrilling.


I could leave as late as I wanted, heck I could even go back to bed. I could.....


Mom: But! You have to go to Sunday School!


Groooooaaaan....


Another instance when it's Adolescent Ambition=0 Maternal Instinct=1





But I assured her I would, and 20 minutes later when I got into my car, I still had every intention of going.

But then something happened....

Something evil....

I could skip Sunday School and go to McDonald's instead.
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Yes, yes I could. And there was no one there to stop me.

Sure my parents had entrusted me to be responsible, but as far as I was concerned that was their own fault and they had no one to blame but themselves.

Besides, I wanted a hashbrown.

The idea grew into an obsession and soon it were as though the golden arches had beome to me what The Ring became to Frodo Baggins at the edge of Mordor.
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So I drove right past the church and even chunked it the duece as I went by. I was acting like a cocky little hoodlum and it was all about to catch up to me.....


So I arrived at McDonald's, parked my car and went in.


I ordered my hashbrown and even threw in an Egg McMuffin for the heck of it.


I took my tray and went and sat down in the first booth I found.


There I was: young, independent, rebellious and with hashbrown. Life was good and nothing could shake my spirit...until I happened to look up....

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to see a man looking at me from across the restaraunt (and when I use the term restaurant, I'm being very generous).

I could definitely tell by what he was wearing that he was homeless.
So, it was one of those awkward moments when you accidentally make eye contact with someone,

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and then you quickly look away like it was an accident,
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but then you look again,

and they're still looking at you!
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So then you're not sure why you're doing it, but you look away,
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and then look up one more time, just to make sure they're not stari....

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This homeless dude was totally staring at me from across the room!

What was extra freaky was the fact that the guy didn't even have anything to eat or drink in front of him. He was just sitting there; completely fixated on me, as though he were put there by some outside force--not of this world.

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From that moment on it was impossible for me to enjoy my Mickey D's. All I wanted to do was get out of there and get to church where I belonged.

Now, before I continue my story, I need to layout the geography of what I was dealing with here.

Obviously the best option was for me to choose Route A.

So, I got up to take my tray over to the trash....
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and suddenly....
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at that exact same moment, Homeless Guy gets up too and is walking right towards me!

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I dropped my tray and headed for the door.

One more thing to keep in mind is, that my car was one of those old school models where I didn't have keyless entry. Plus I had this weird security feature where I had a little device that would have to be plugged in, in order for the car to start. Therefore, it would take me a little extra time to get going.

Well, I dashed out of the door, trying to remain calm. Surely this was all a coincidence and this man wasn't trying to follow m...

I broke into a run for my car. Behind me I could hear the distinct sound of his wings of fire and brimstone beating through the air as he gained on me.

I got to my car knowing there was little room for error.

Got keys.

Manually unlocked door.

Jumped in.

Manually locked doors.

Plugged in "security thingy."

Started engine.

I threw my car in reverse, backed up and looked around.

But to my surprise, Homeless Guy was no where to be found.


My heart was pounding and needless to say, I was way more than a little creeped out.

So, I headed to the church but didn't tell anyone about what had happened.

You would think this incident would have taught me a lesson and I would be smart enough not to skip Sunday School again.


You would think.....
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but then you would just be giving me way too much credit.

I had stayed the night at a friends house in town (I lived way outside of town), and coincidentally my little sister, Rebecca who was 11 at the time, did too.

My mother wanted us to come to Sunday School and church, so I picked up Rebecca and we went on our way

There we were, riding along, when suddenly once again my independence got the best of me, and the sinful idea entered my brain once again.

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Me: Hey Rebecca, instead of going to Sunday School, do you want to go to McDonald's?

At first she was hesitant, but then not wanting to dissapoint her big sister, she gave in.

I was uber psyched.

The funny thing was, on this Sunday, I happened to be wearing the exact same purple shirt I had worn that month before.

So, Rebecca and I get to McDonald's but this time I park here:

We go in, get our food and sit down at the first booth. The EXACT same booth as the month before.
It wasn't until the moment I sat down did I experience the deja vu.

Me: That's funny, I was just here last month and I was wearing this exact same shirt, and was sitting in this same booth. But last time it totally sucked because there was this homeless man sitting across the room st.....

I froze mid-sentence. There, across the room, was my Sunday morning nightmare in the flesh.

He was back, er, I was back.....whatever, we were both in the same situation we had found ourselves in the month before.

Except this time, things were more complicated.

I had my little sister to protect (even though at 5 years younger she was still taller than me) plus I had parked in a different spot and the only way I could get out, and to my car before he did, was if we went out Route B. That meant, we had to walk right passed him.


So, I quickly explained the situation to Rebecca and warned her that as soon as we got outside we would have to run like we had never run before.

I knew we would be slowed down by the fact that not only would I have to manually unlock my side of the car with the key, but I would have to unlock the door for Rebecca too.

Alright, it was go time. Rebecca was ready. I was ready.

And this time I was totally going to play it cool.

We stood up.
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I'm playin it cool.



He stood up.


Panic set in.

By some miracle we were able to push passed the guy and get out.




When we got to the car it were as though my brain was no longer in charge and muscle memory had kicked in.

Unlock my door.

Open.

Unlock Rebecca's door.

Get in.

Lock Doors.

Input Security Device.

Start Car.

I looked in the rear view mirror and could see Homeless Guy still running at us.

I didn't want to know what would happen if he reached my car, so I threw it in reverse and backed up as fast as I could.

He stepped out of the way and I sped out of the parking lot.

Although finally safe, my sister and I were both completely terrified.

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I finally learned my lesson that day, that you should never skip church to go to McDonald's....or at least that particular one.


Ok, so really I didn't actually try and hit the demon, er guy, I was just compeletly terrified of what might have happened if he reached my car window. I thought maybe he would have some super strength talon that could break through my windsheild and pillage my very soul.
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 Therefore, technically, in my young stupid mind, I just didn't care if I hit him or not.

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Extras:

Question:
Alexa, why didn't you just go tell a McDonald's staff member and have him escort you to your car?

First of all, I thought Homeless Guy was a devil sent from Dante's Inferno to punish me for my sins. Excuse me, but I didn't really think Team Leader Phil was properly trained to handle full contact spiritual warfare. Besides, I wasn't mature enough to think in logical terms like that.

Obviously I'm still not very mature if I'm nearly 30 and I'm blogging at 9am on a weekday with animation from Microsoft Paint.

So, basically you entitled this post the way you did to get people to read it.
Yes, I did.. So what? Would you read a blog post entitled: The Time I Drove My Car and Absolutely Nothing Interesting Happened?
Please.

Fun Exercise:

Did you notice that if you take the picture of my sister and add a little line underneath her mouth that she now looks like she has a Vato 'stach?

Ole.