When I committed to make the move to New York, it seemed evident that I may never get there unless I do the roommate thing, particularly because I didn’t have a job. It’s something you can only understand if your conviction to prioritize creative projects i.e. writing and painting and you're trying to do said projects anywhere near Manhattan. However, clearly, I need something else to write about and this roommate shit is pure lunacy.
But for the sake of accuracy, I will refer to them as the pterodactyls.
A couple of months after moving in, the Jihad pterodactyl began penning hostile sticky notes, and donning a general sense of bitchiness and anger. I'm not calling her Jihad out of a need to racially profile. Rather, I get a sense that her insatiable inflammatory rage and dark features together suggest she could secure large amounts of dynamite up her vacuous, sea urchin-like vagina. She and the other pterodactyl fought bitterly over kitchen counter territory. They fought for months. Then Jihad grew mad that she didn’t get a particular shelf in the kitchen. She kept telling me to move my stuff and when I refused, she made the apartment un-livable with hostility via slamming doors, bolting through the apartment like a psycho and never speaking. Refusing to pay the full amount of electric bill became her act of vindictiveness and then she never did her dishes. I called her a twat, told her to go fuck herself and suggested she stop withholding her dish washing capabilities.
Eventually the (first) pterodactyl moved out, leaving me and the Jihad pterodactyl to roommate seek. Jihad is a programmer, and I’ve been told that that explains a lot about her rigid personality. Seeking a new roommate became an abundant opportunity for the control freak to rear its ugly head and then inevitably enable her to complain that she did all the work. She posted an ad and proceeded to manage the schedule like an anal retentive, militant tyrant. Der Fuhrer himself would have been proud.
One of the downsides of this mission is that we actually had to communicate. We went back and forth about the schedule. This is someone who does not compromise and legit has to get her way. This person does not know how to speak to other human beings with respect. I’m a comic, so the word cunt first of all doesn’t bother me, and is frankly not offensive enough for me to describe her. Also I’m from Boston. I was having a tremendous amount of difficulty NOT smashing her face into a wall. I was still sleeping at night but my eye had begun to twitch.
I awoke to the sound of boots on the tiled kitchen floor. It’s bad enough that Isis (one of many nicknames for the lizard) had scheduled a cavalcade of pterodactyl replacements to interview spanning from 12:30PM to 4:30PM, but who wears boots on a Sunday? (This bitch). I emerged out of my restless slumber at noon to put coffee on, only to see Muhammad Incarnate going back and forth to the bathroom doing her makeup and clad in all black. Did somebody die?
We saw several girls who timidly walked through the apartment studying camel jockey and I. I barely got a word in, because Hitler was busy doing all of the talking. Her irritability was bursting at the seams and was clearly on display for the would-be subletters. During one interview, I said a few things about the apartment, cutting off the Mediterranean whore, because otherwise I would just stand there mute.
After they all left, the Black Widow asks if I am available to see more at 8:00 o’clock. I tell her I believe we have seen enough for one day. She angrily snaps back “well if you’re going to be here anyway then what does it matter?” It’s actually easier to be pleasant with people you live with but for some reason, this is just not my year.
This is why she needs to be thrown from a helicopter. My protests to try and condense the interview process had been all for naught because she is a rigid, fear-ridden, slut who deserves to be deported. I’m surprised in all her inflexibility, that Blackbeard hasn’t yet had high blood pressure. I also find it somewhat baffling that in the ad listing description, she put “easy going.” I’m convinced that she just copied that from another ad. I finally told her to just pick whoever she wanted. And a few months later, I moved out.