I go to a university, like many, where roommates are completely random your freshman year, so I didn’t have the luxury of scrolling through a Facebook group to shop for someone who had the same degenerate tendencies as me. I was lucky in that the worst I had to deal with was a snoring Wisconsinite with good intentions and poor taste in decor, but this also means that I have little to show for any spicy roommate drama. I thus have to live vicariously through others when it comes to terrible roommate experiences, and my best friend from home provides the perfect example. I was constantly receiving text messages about the absolute barbarian she called a roommate, so strap in thots, it’s story time.
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My friend showed up to school freshman year after her roommate had already moved in, and given, like, the rules of college, this means that she got the sh*ttier room situation. Yes, you read that correctly. ROOM. Apparently her school is a f*cking resort, because not only did she have her own room, but she also had a built-in kitchenette and bathroom. Would I ever use said kitchen? No, absolutely not. But would I also love the opportunity to pretend that I’d cook more than a literal Dorito for myself every once in a while? Hell yes. Anyway, enough about me.
The storage in their suite was complete with two built-in drawer/walk-in closet combos, presumably one for each roommate (I know, like they live in the f*cking Ritz or something). Given this built-in/walk-in situation, the beds, and other pieces of furniture, there was little room left for any extra storage in the suite. My friend finally makes it to campus to move in, and while unpacking, she slowly starts to realize her roommate has put her clothes in literally every single storage space; both closets and all the bathroom storage are completely filled with her sh*t. Not just any sh*t, we’re talking designer everything: a fugly Gucci tracksuit à la Jeffree Star, Balenciaga sneakers, Hermès belts, the works.
My friend texts this girl to let her know she’ll be moving some of her things, because you know, she needs to have clothes accessible like a normal human being. This girl responds saying, “Don’t! I left you storage in the KITCHEN CABINETS.” Bitch what!? My friend understandably gives the girl a heads up and tells her won’t be using the spice rack as a closet, and is planning to move some of her roommate’s things out of the walk-in and onto her bed. My friend claims to have laid everything out nicely, but the way this girl reacted would make you think that my friend flushed this girl’s LV bag down the toilet.
My friend notices her roommate didn’t come back for the night, but decides to chalk it up to her wanting to spend more time with her mom before orientation in the morning. The next day my friend leaves her room for orientation, having not seen her roommate all day, and when she gets home, there’s a 50-something-year-old woman sitting on her bed. I’m not trying to be dramatic, but this is the point where I’m calling the RA.
Turns out the woman is the roommate’s mom, who begins to lecture my friend by explaining how my friend, and I QUOTE, “does not understand the price nor value” of the things she “treated so recklessly” and how she’s willing to forgive her for her actions because she, “would not expect her or someone of her background to understand.” Ugh, what a saint! I’m so thankful that she was so understanding—I hate when the middle class touches my things too. She really went out with a bang, however, by telling my friend if she ever “assaulted” her daughter again, she would call the cops, get her scholarship revoked, AND get her tossed out of the university. Lol. Ok, Nancy, how about you watch one episode of SVU and get back to me with some more substantive charges?
Needless to say, my friend decided to GTFO and is now living with two amazing girls in an apartment off campus. Personally, I would’ve stuck around a little longer to see if I could cop some designer items, but to each their own. Just remember, if you think your roommate is crazy, at least you don’t have a psychotic, entitled mother in your bed threatening to call the cops on you! Or, if you do—submit that sh*t to [email protected]!
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