30 Days of Music: Day 28
Feb. 11th, 2011 09:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
janradderA Song That Makes Me Feel Guilty
For a lot of my time in college I was cursed with some pretty horrid roommates. There was Danielle, who communed with the cockroaches in the kitchen (I'm not exaggerating or using hyperbole either -- she actually talked to the damn things) and who would sit in dark rooms without giving off any vibes at all so that when you came home you had no idea she was there until you turned on the lights, made something to eat, maybe went to the bathroom, and sat down on the couch or at the table when she would finally emit an eery, "Hello . . ." from the corner of the room where she'd been sitting the whole time. Then there was Kevin Jon, the misogynist commie who lived by the creed of "we all share," which really meant that he didn't buy shit for himself but instead lived off you by using all your toiletries and eating up all your food from your dishes that he never washed while spouting a steady stream of woman-hating proclamations. And then there was Sam, who was bat-shit crazy, who kicked a hole in the wall of the bedroom for no other reason that it was there, left his alarm set to half-way between two stations and turned up to full volume so that it sounded like the radio station was broadcasting from Hell but never bothered to turn it off until at least ten minutes had elapsed, and whose bare ass I awoke to each morning staring at me from the loft bed directly across from mine, peeking over the pair of pants he'd worn the day before that he'd pulled down to his knees at some point in the night. Near the end of his first semester, he was kicked out of school for an incident in one of the buildings. I'm not really sure what it was, except that he was told that if he ever returned to that building the police would be alerted. He disappeared for a few days, leaving all his things behind in the room, so one of my other roommates and I decided to swipe a few of his records before he came back to retrieve them. One of the albums I stole was Vivaldi's Four Seasons. No, Sam wasn't the worst (that was Kevin Jon), he was just crazy and unpleasant, which is why I often feel guilty when I hear anything from that suite.
For a lot of my time in college I was cursed with some pretty horrid roommates. There was Danielle, who communed with the cockroaches in the kitchen (I'm not exaggerating or using hyperbole either -- she actually talked to the damn things) and who would sit in dark rooms without giving off any vibes at all so that when you came home you had no idea she was there until you turned on the lights, made something to eat, maybe went to the bathroom, and sat down on the couch or at the table when she would finally emit an eery, "Hello . . ." from the corner of the room where she'd been sitting the whole time. Then there was Kevin Jon, the misogynist commie who lived by the creed of "we all share," which really meant that he didn't buy shit for himself but instead lived off you by using all your toiletries and eating up all your food from your dishes that he never washed while spouting a steady stream of woman-hating proclamations. And then there was Sam, who was bat-shit crazy, who kicked a hole in the wall of the bedroom for no other reason that it was there, left his alarm set to half-way between two stations and turned up to full volume so that it sounded like the radio station was broadcasting from Hell but never bothered to turn it off until at least ten minutes had elapsed, and whose bare ass I awoke to each morning staring at me from the loft bed directly across from mine, peeking over the pair of pants he'd worn the day before that he'd pulled down to his knees at some point in the night. Near the end of his first semester, he was kicked out of school for an incident in one of the buildings. I'm not really sure what it was, except that he was told that if he ever returned to that building the police would be alerted. He disappeared for a few days, leaving all his things behind in the room, so one of my other roommates and I decided to swipe a few of his records before he came back to retrieve them. One of the albums I stole was Vivaldi's Four Seasons. No, Sam wasn't the worst (that was Kevin Jon), he was just crazy and unpleasant, which is why I often feel guilty when I hear anything from that suite.
