So for the last couple of months, I’ve had to share my room with another human being. Now, you may be wondering how that was. I’ll give you a hint: if it were great it would not be funny.
The first thing you will notice about my roommate is the smell. You see, my roommate doesn’t believe in doing laundry. I can count on one hand the number of times my roommate did laundry this school year (not an exaggeration). The result: piles of my roommate’s dirty laundry covering ninety percent of the floor space. However, let it not be said that he did not attempt to “clean” his clothes. Every morning before he left my roommate would spray Axe all over the clothes he was wearing for the fifth day in a row. The result: I would gag on the smell of Axe then gag again on the smell of Ass. Lovely. I give my roommate’s smell a 2 out of 10 because he never puked in the room.
The next things you notice about my roommate are the noises he makes. Listening to my roommate talk produces the same sensation as trying to jam a cheese grater into your ear canal. Then, once your body recovers from its sonic brutalization, you process exactly what it was he said and go back into shock (more on that later). And woe to you if he should find one of his own jokes sufficiently funny to laugh at, creating a sound akin to a gazelle being drowned by a crocodile. Finally, there are the sounds he makes in his sleep. Of course, there is the standard snoring, but there are also the much worse night screams. Apparently, he sometimes forgets how to breathe when he is sleeping, so he wakes up doing his best impression of a ringwraith. When you are dreaming of the naked women who ignore you in real life, being awakened by the servants of Sauron is unpleasant. Very unpleasant. I give my roommate’s noises a 1 out of 10, because they frankly constitute a crime against nature.
The third thing you notice about my roommate is the smell again, but since I already reviewed that, let’s talk about his girlfriend. First–what the fuck, this guy has a girlfriend? Scratch your head, rub your beard. Whatever, the point is, their relationship makes me uncomfortable. I was never once asked to stay out of the room for a while. Instead they demonstrated their affection for each other in the common area on our floor. And I’m not talking about kissing and a little lap sitting. No I’m talking about full blown role-playing and bondage for beginners. So, freaky ass shit to have happening on your floor’s lounge. Especially if you want to ever use the couch again. In short, I give my roommate’s relationship with his girlfriend a 3 out of 10. I mean, yeah, I never got sexiled, but being invited to observe was arguably worse.
Finally, once you’ve gotten past all the other repugnant-ass shit about my roommate, you get to his personality, and realize it is perfectly matched to him. Let me start by saying that there is a special place in Hell for anyone who uses the phrase “superman that ho” regularly in conversation. My roommate is going there. His way of expressing admiration is to say he wants someone’s cock in or around his mouth. Even worse: the people whose cocks he talks about are George W. Bush and Ronald Reagan. Then he will go on to say something retarded about how privatization is going to save America and bring death to the infidels and communists. I give my roommate’s personality, intelligence, and belief system a 2 out of 10. There are worse people out there, but not by much.
My final review of my roommate is a 2 out of 10. There you have it. I’ll try and top this review next year, by which I mean, get a worse score. Oh, and don’t buy my roommate from this year.