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OT: Worst roommate stories

For the love of pete, how did this turn into lurid tales of sex and sloppy sex retribution?!

My freshman roommate at UConn was a good guy, but an annoying roommate, total slob. He had the top bunk and 8AM classes every day, but he'd often sleep right through his annoying "BEEP.... BEEEP....BEEEEEP" alarm. So I dealt with it by having a recurring dream that I was escaping a fire with a slow-motion superman ability to fly just above the flames. It has always bothered me that I didn't work out in my head that it'd also be smoky up there. But I learned to dream my way thru 10-30 minutes of incessant beeping.
 
For the love of pete, how did this turn into lurid tales of sex and sloppy sex retribution?!

His name was Bob, not Pete, and now, after you've characterized my post as "lurid", I'm considering going back and adding details that would actually make it lurid.:eek:

Btw, your story sucked.:p
 
His name was Bob, not Pete, and now, after you've characterized my post as "lurid", I'm considering going back and adding details that would actually make it lurid.:eek:

Btw, your story sucked.:p
True, my mundane story was designed to put a screeching halt to the pent up forum in the house. That is why I left out the one morning when the blonde and redheaded girls that lived below us on the third floor came into the room to turn off the alarm, I thought this could never happen to me but...
 
True, my mundane story was designed to put a screeching halt to the pent up forum in the house. That is why I left out the one morning when the blonde and redheaded girls that lived below us on the third floor came into the room to turn off the alarm, I thought this could never happen to me but...
You dog, Deacon!
 
Sorry in advance.

"Roommate" is one of those words I take very literally. Housemates, suitemates, apartment mates, girlfriends, and wife don't count as roommates. Because I had my own bedroom growing up, I've only had one roommate ever, and he was great.

A rare and horrible form of brain cancer turned the final 14 months of his life into a very sad story that closed this past May.

As such, what's worst is the story and not the roommate.
Hans how old are you?
 
In the Jungle (of course), I once had a roommate who admitted to having a case of -- scabies. :eek:

I had to thoroughly wash/sanitize all of my stuff. It was gross. Fortunately I remained scabie-free.
 
Had a roommate that was a meth addict in a metal band with a drum kit in his bedroom.
 
This was post-college, but for about a year, I lived with a roommate who had serious anger issues but was also batshit crazy. He had a ritual where he'd get mad about something, slam his head into the doorframes, and scream "A-hee-hee-HEE" for what seemed like forever. Somehow, he never knocked himself out.
 
My freshman roommate was a junior African American bodybuider from Harlem named Hugh. Intimidating on day one for sure. Great guy. Accounting major. He did me a solid and moved off campus late and left me with a single second semester. Had a beautiful girlfriend who’s father was a judge in Belize. By Hugh’s senior year her father had to leave because the cartels were threatening to murder him. Its hard to know the stuff other people deal with.

From there I roomed with good friends until 9th semester when we all went to Crawford. I landed with a freshman named Mitch. He was annoying up but ok. Lucky SoB to land in Crawford as a freshman guy. The whole rest of the floor was 9th semester.
 

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