Crazy Room Mates

It's been a really long time since the last post, but frankly things have been really quite as of late. I'll try to get back into the groove over the holidays, but no promises. Hopefully when the semester starts back up there will be all sorts of new, funny things for me to tell you. Till then, let's begin with a post about crazy room mates.

*Disclaimer* This post is in no way an indictment of my room mate. He is one of the sanest people I know, and I'm thankful every day that I get to live with him. If the reverse is true or not, I have no way of knowing.

We're like these guys, but without the gay vibe.

Since I've never had a crazy room mate (eccentric at best) I figured I should share some stories about crazy room mates that I've known through friends, as well as one or two of the oddities that my otherwise sane room mates might have. Hopefully you will chuckle a bit, either because you've been through these things, or because you just think it's funny.

First off, we'll begin with the incident that inspired me to write this post. A good friend of mine lives in an apartment with three other girls. What she didn't know upon moving in was that one of the girls is apparently bat-shit crazy. Now, when I say "girl" I really mean fifty three year old menopausal, unemployed ex-Marine. She also has a history of violence, mental instability and a mild drinking problem.

Less cats; more knives, booze, and pills.

This old lady was already in the apartment before the three younger girls moved in, apparently all alone because the previous room mates had "complained about her, not gotten along with her and made her really angry". That happens right?

Warning sign? Possibly.

So yes, perhaps this was something that could have been foreseen... Oh wait! I forgot to mention that my friend does card readings (kind of like Tarot cards, but with regular cards, not reliable, but creepily accurate at times), and she wanted to see if the old lady would stay. The cards said that she would not stay, and that it would be a big deal, with lots of strife.

"Miss Cleo say run! That bitch is crazy!"

When I was visiting, I went out with the three younger girls and some of their friends. We went to a nice restaurant, then a hookah bar. My friend and I left the bar early, and stopped by a graduation party that one of my friends was throwing. We got back to her apartment around 1:30 in the morning, and were the first ones back to what turned out to be the scene of the crime.

As she went to put her leftovers in the fridge, we notice that there was trash all over the kitchen, and the chocolate chip pancakes that we had cooked earlier were all over the floor. Turning into the living room, the furniture was disheveled, with the couch leaning up against a chair lying on it's side by the door. A pot of cooking oil had been splashed all over the floor, and the curtains and rod had been ripped off the wall.

It was either robbers, or a really big puppy.

As we noticed that the room seemed to have been ransacked, we quickly checked my friend's room, but it was still securely locked. Going back out to the living room we began to see oddities that had escaped our attention earlier. For one, the television and wireless router were still sitting right where they should be. So it was probably not a robbery.

Even stranger though, the small Christmas tree that had been by the window was missing. There had been a jar of red and green M&M's that was now empty except for one lonely green M&M. The festive candle sets on the kitchen counter were gone, along with a miniature nativity scene. All this pointed to one obvious culprit.

Jim Carrey, or Jane Lynch. Both work.

But seriously though, it was the crazy old lady. My friend tried calling her other room mates, but they didn't pick up for some reason. We took photos, and then went to her room and called the room mates again, and they finally picked up. They came home quickly, and a quick council of war was called with all the friends. We tried knocking on crazy lady's door, but she was unresponsive except for one "yeah!".

The decision was made to call the police. Just a few minutes after we called the police, the private security staff for the apartment walked by on patrol, so we roped them in as well. They knocked on crazy lady's room, still with no response. We briefed them on the fact that the old lady was crazy, had a drinking problem, was on medications, and possibly had a gun. And then after about twenty minutes the actual police got there and took charge. That's when the stereotypical domestic disturbance episode of COPS begins.

They were very professional.

She finally responded to the police, after a good minute of knocking and them saying that they will break the door down to offer assistance if she is blacked out drunk or hurt. She's polite to the police, but raging against the girls. Apparently they've done nothing but piss her off lately, a fact that the other three room mates were unaware of. She wasn't drunk enough or belligerent enough for the officers to arrest her, so basically the girls all left as she began laughing maniacally to herself.

"Muah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

I imagine she then puttered around the apartment for a few hours, talking to herself, and thinking of ways to exact her revenge. But not cleaning up the grease or trash, because that was all still there the next day apparently. How my friend is going to get out of this one, I don't yet know. But I'm sure it will provide some rather interesting stories for the next month or so.

Life With One Channel, Part Three

My room mate and I have been complaining about only having one television channel for quite some time. If you've read either of the two previous posts about living with only one channel of television, you know that the local NBC affiliate: WITN is quite possibly the worst television channel known to man (and quite possibly women, but the jury is out on the NFL Network).

Soap operas for men.

Recently though, we've noticed a disturbing trend in the morning programing that has somehow escaped our notice until just now. No, it is not the trend that morning television is terrible. Everybody already knows that. What we've noticed is that everyone, and I mean everyone, involved in morning shows on NBC is a fucking alcoholic.

The only coffee they drink is from Dublin.

Seriously though. Every day on the Today Show and whatever show Kathy Lee and Hoda Kotb are on, the hosts get their drink on. By hook or by crook. Here are some choice pieces of alcohol related shenanigans that we've seen in the past month or two.

The most common way that NBC television hosts get their drink on involves the cooking portion of the Today Show. Now, I know what you're thinking: "Surely the cook doesn't provide alcoholic beverages with every meal that they cook." Well they don't.

Well, maybe this guy. How many glasses of wine do you need?

They cook nearly every single meal with some sort of alcohol based marinade, sauce, or just as a main flavor ingredient. One day it's Bananas Foster with dark rum, the next day it's Porter Steak Bits Stew cooked with a couple of beers as the the broth portion. Then it's Chicken Marsala with actual wine. Do you see a pattern here?

But it's not just that the guest chefs love to cook with booze, I'm pretty sure that the hosts encourage it. And they make a big deal about the fact that the recipes use wine or beer, joking (not really) about drinking while cooking. Honestly, I think that they pick the recipes, and if you want to cook on the Today Show you better bring your breathalyzer.

"Welcome back to NBC Studios. You know the drill."

Here are some lines that we've overheard from the various talking heads regarding their all but admitted alcoholism. How NBC hasn't fired Matt Lauer for bonging a beer while interviewing Obama is beyond me. (Disclaimer: Matt Lauer has not to our knowledge ever actually consumed a beer in that fashion while interviewing the president.)

When cooking that Chicken Marsala, Ann Curry asked the chef if he was using real Marsala wine, to which he replied "Of course". She proceeded to grab the entire bottle from him and I quote, say "Well, it's 12:00 somewhere." Ha, ha. Al Roker chuckles in the corner.

Must have been a really rough day. Already.

12:00 somewhere? What the hell is wrong with you lady? You don't even have the decency to say that it's 5:00 somewhere? (Small aside: unless it is actually on the hour, it is not 5:00 somewhere, it is 5:23 somewhere, etc. Thanks time zones.)

Unless you live in Arizona or Indiana, heathens.

Then, when Kathy Lee and Hoda show up for the start of their program, they usually have some sort of beverage sitting on the table that they sip on during their airtime. Every once in a while it's even something that you would consider drinking early in the morning. Like coffee, or orange juice. But most of the time it's a glass of red wine or a bottle of Guinness.

Really? I don't care if you have been up since 3:00 in the morning for hair and make-up, it's still 7:00 in the real world. You might as well brush your teeth with some whiskey or something, get that morning started right.

And who doesn't want this role model?

Well, that morning there was nothing in their coffee mugs/beer steins, and the Today Show had just gotten done cooking some sort of alcohol laden dish and the ladies must have been feeling a little bit left out.

So Kathy turns to Hoda and says, "Nothing to drink this morning, but hope springs eternal." Now, I'm all in favor of poetic expression, and am not a teetotaler, but these people really should at least keep their demons in the closet to be exposed at a later date, preferably on the national stage, much to their embarrassment.

Oh yeah, we went there.

But seriously, NBC really should sit down with Kathy, Hoda, Al and the other people and have a serious discussion about the appropriate decorum for the workplace. A nationally televised workplace at that.

The only kind of intervention that could stop them.

*Update*

Brian Williams of NBC Nightly News apparently recently called out Kathy Lee and Hoda while on air around mid-day. His quote was something along these lines: "If you've watched the morning programing, you know by this point that Kathy Lee and Hoda are usually hammered by now." To which the girls responded that they "haven't even had anything to drink today, yet."

He's not buying it.

And apparently some of the awesome products that they endorse on the show are also centered around getting your drink on. My room mate and I must have missed the first airing of the TV remote equipped with a beer opener.

Combines two of my favorite things: copious buttons and unlabeled beverages.

Guess what? It doesn't stop there. What happens if perhaps you're somewhere where you don't have access to your booze-remote and still need to open a tasty beverage? Bring along the Beer-Bot T-shirt. Now all you need to do is always wear this shirt instead of simply having a bottle opener on your key chain.

Beer-Bot obviously a Bender rip-off. Oh well.

My Night of Shame

In an effort to avoid having every single story on here paint my room mate as the one who makes mistakes, I'm going to include the story of the worst night of drinking I've ever had.

If only I was this dignified at the end of the night.

Allow me to preface this story by telling you that while I do no not drink heavily on frequent occasion, I have an excellent track record in dealing with nights like that. For one, I'm a pretty big guy, and thus able to shrug off some effects just based on size alone. Secondly, I normally prepare myself fairly well, drinking water throughout the day, being sure to eat foods that aren't too likely to react poorly with alcohol while ensuring that I don't drink on an empty stomach.

Indian food can mess you even without drinking.

This particular night, I was not prepared. At all. My room mate had an old high school buddy visiting this weekend, and so far we had all been having a good time hanging out, going to the gym, playing video games, etc.

Normally we would have shown the friend around downtown Greenville, but it was freezing cold that night, so we were planning on just having a quiet night in. However, my room mate got a text at around 7:30 or so from a girl who was having a bit of drinking at her apartment and wanted to know if we would join her and her friends.

Artistic simulation. Actual girls not that hot.

Naturally, we said yes. I'm all for a chill night of drinking at somebody's apartment, and it was nice to have something to do. I hadn't had dinner yet, so I quickly make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, wolf i t down with a glass of milk and am out the door. Mistake number 1.

We bring some beers, and the girls had some mixed drinks. I had a few of each. How many is not important. Also, I don't know how many.

Who the fuck do you think I am?

Shortly though, one girl wants to shotgun a beer, but doesn't want to do it by herself. I volunteer because it's always fun to do something a bit outgoing at parties, and she was kind of cute. Mistake number 2.

For people who take their binge drinking seriously.

I was wearing a nice pullover that was a gift from my cooperating teacher during my senior year at NCSU. Thoughtfully, I remove it. I didn't want to get beer on it.

If only there were some product I could use for that...

Well, after that, everything goes downhill. My room mate quickly realized that I was on the verge of becoming a shit show. In my infinite wisdom though, I did not hear/heed his advice. At one point I think I was drinking wine straight from the bottle. Mistake number 3.

Just let it be said that I was fairly wasted at this point. So of course we decide to go down town anyway. Drunk logic: it's inescapable.

Also, there are minotaurs.

A lot of the other people are hungry, so we decide to partake in perhaps the best food for drunk people in downtown Greenville: Michelangelo's Pizza. Just to give you an idea of how many drunk people eat there, it is the only pizza place I've ever been to that has bouncers. They aren't there to protect the pizza, they're there to defenestrate the drunks. (Look it up if you don't know what it means)

These guys will toss you out, and then eat your pizza.

Michelangelo's is one of those pizza places with large slices and various fancy types of pizza in addition to the plain old pepperoni and cheese. My room mate didn't have any way to pay because he had lost his credit card a week or so prior, so I agree to pay for both.

Unfortunately, my room mate likes to eat odd pizzas like buffalo chicken and asparagus pizza. I was too drunk to tell the cashier that I wanted two different types of pizza, so I just got a slice of the pizza my room mate had selected. Mistake number 4.

Seriously? I guess this is technically a pizza.

After the first few bites hit my stomach, I start to feel kind of bad, so I go to the restroom and stare at the toilet for a few minutes. Nothing. Oh well, I'm good right?

Wrong. Now my room mate and everyone else are definitely sure that I'm wasted-face, and decide to go home for the night. Mistake number 5.

As we cross over the railroad tracks on the way back home, I feel a rumbly in my tumbly.

And not the good kind.

Frantically, I roll down the window and blow chunks all over the outside, and even the inside, of the Jeep. Some got on my pullover, all that carefulness earlier was for naught. But it wasn't done there. Oh no. Twas not done there.

As everybody else watched "The Hangover" in the living room, I was busy positioning myself so that the stuff spilling out from my mouth would make it into the toilet. Oh the shame. I'm not one to go down without a fight though.

Yes, I'm picking on the French.

So as I lie there, huddling over the toilet (luckily I had just cleaned it that morning), my room mate comes in to check on me. After establishing that I was fine, I told him that I was sorry for making a bad impression on his friend. I don't often get to meet my room mate's old friends, and it sucked that I was in such a predicament.

Then I said, quote "He's a pretty cool guy, even if he doesn't know that blowjobs make a sound." (Some of the conversations we have can be a bit awkward) My room mate replies with, "Maybe she just wasn't giving it a hundred percent effort?". Choking back my vomit for a few more seconds I say, "More like zero percent effort!"

Oh shit! Somebody call the fire department!

Then it was back to puking my guts up.

Tales From the RA Office, Part Two

When we last left off, I was detailing some of the stories from back in my days as an undergrad. I became an RA in my junior year, where I worked with my future room mate. So, first day that the residents got to the dorm, shit started going down. Normally, you would think that residents would wait for a little bit after getting to where you're going to live to start breaking the rules. Not these residents.

Not our residents, but you get the point.

This first story will be "The Tale of Drunky McPunching Stuff", which begins the very first day of the semester. Since this was just the start of the semester, all of us RA's had just done our floor meetings, speaking to the residents about general rules and procedures. Among those procedures are things like the residence hall being a dry dorm, aka, no drinking. Since most of our residents were freshmen and sophomores, so most are younger than twenty one, and thus unable to drink legally.

This didn't stop old Drunky McPunching Stuff. Apparently this girl was ready for the Daytona 500 of drunkness. According to testimony from other residents after the fact, she started her engine, metaphorically speaking, at about 3:00 that afternoon. She pregamed for the floor meeting that took place at 5:00 that day. Seriously?

These girls had a meeting with the dean to prepare for.

A bit of background information on this girl. I still to this day do not know her actual name, mainly because "Drunky McPunching Stuff" just rolls off the tongue better. She was an eighteen year old freshman girl. She probably weighed in at 100 lbs, soaking wet, and towered at an impressive five foot nothing. Not the sort of person that needs to be drinking vodka for dinner. Perhaps she was all out of the margaritas she pounded down for lunch?

Anyway, the RA with the privilege of being the first one to be on duty was my room mate, what a lucky guy. Since it was the first night, another guy RA decided to do rounds with him, both because they were friends and because he was bored.

Not that bored. Nobody is that bored.

The first round happened at 8:00, and marked the time that the RA on duty was supposed to be in the RA office. They saw Drunky McPunching Stuff downstairs on the boy's half of the floor, carrying on. Whatever. It's the start of the year, she's trying to meet some new people, we've all been there.

Fast forward to the 11:00 round. This round marks both the end of the time the RA on duty was required to be in the RA office as well as the start of quiet time. 11:00 seems late enough to tell people to start toning it down a bit if you ask me. Well, Drunky McPunching Stuff didn't ask me. She's still going strong, but getting more carried away in her gestures, speech and just overall acting a bit sloppy.

She was a huge "Mean Girls" fan I guess.

My room mate tells her that it is 11:00, and quiet hours are starting, so she should probably take it down a few degrees. Also, the hours for co-ed visitation will be ending at the next time they do a round at 2:00 am. She's like, "Whatever. I do what I want." The two RA's simply shrug and leave, hoping that she won't be there when they come back. No such luck.

It's now 2:00 in the morning, and time for the final round. Somehow, Drunky McPunching Stuff realizes this and decides that now is the time to cause a scene instead of just going up to her room and then coming back after the RA's leave. Like a normal person. She is far from the fields of logical thought process at the moment.

"No, I have not been drinking, officer. Scout's honor."

This is where the shit really hits the fan. As the two RA's attempt to persuade her that she needs to just pack it in and call it a night, she starts to flip out. Like Jerry Springer style flipped out. She starts belligerently insulting them, asking why they "have to be so gay" and calling them a vast quantity of insulting names.

Finally, after venting her rage while both guys struggled to remain professional, still telling her that it was past visitation hours and that she needed to go to her room, she does. If you would think that the story would end here, you'd be wrong. It's only a brief intermission.

Grab some popcorn, a drink and come right back.

Thinking that they were done for the night, my room mate and the other RA continue their rounds, working their way up from the first floor. Drunky lived on the third floor, and she wasn't ready to give up without a fight. She's out in the hallway, telling anyone who would listen how mean the RA's were, and how they were total dicks.

Both guys show up, and commence to trying to get her to just go to her room. Again. She was already in a bit of trouble, but Drunky didn't do things halfway. Her friends manage to get her in her room for a bit and plead with both the RA's not to write her up, promising to look after her, making sure that she's alright, etc. This is when she decides to hulk out.

"Hulk no want to take nap! Hulk want to party!"

Much like the Hulk, she came back with less clothes, a crazy look in her eyes, and maybe a bit of makeup smeared on her face. It's on. She starts by trashing her room, turning over dressers and barricading the door. She changes her mind and moves the desk and then proceeds to run to the bathroom in a fit of rage. There, she proceeds to punch things, hence the sobriquet "Drunky McPunching Stuff".

However, unlike the Hulk, she was not possessed of super strength, and more importantly she was all too vulnerable to harm. After smashing the mirror in the bathroom with her fist, she storms back into the hallway, eyes blazing, hand dripping blood. At this point, my room mate and the other RA are starting to jostle for position in response to the threat. By that, I mean they were each trying to hide behind the other.

The fetal position probably wasn't far behind.

The other girls try to convince the RA's that she was just having a really bad day, and that it would be alright. "She just found out that her aunt has cancer and was going to die in a month. She didn't have a chance to visit with her." they said. Exasperated, my room mate replied, "She's got a month." He caught a little bit of hell from our supervisor for that remark later.

They decide to call for some back up. Campus police and the RD on duty are contacted, while the two RA's still try to contain Drunky McPunching Stuff to that area of the dorm. My room mate goes downstairs to meet the RD and the cops.

So of course, Drunky does what nearly everybody in an episode of COPS does. She runs. Yelling down the stairwell, the other RA cries out "She's making a break for it!"

Going for the gold, baby!

Two floors down, my room mate breaks into a full sprint. Sees the cops and the RD and was like "This way!" They catch sight of Drunky. The police chase her. One cuts her off. She reverses direction, maybe even throws in a spin move for effect. One police officer finally takes her down, probably not as easily as he thought he would though.

Artist's simulation.

After securing the crazy drunk chick, campus police then begins to question her, the RA's and some of the other girls. An hour and a half later, they managed to get her to the hospital. Probably because she had about a 0.2 or higher BAC. When you've downed a fifth of vodka and you only weigh in at the featherweight class, you've probably got a serious chance of having alcohol poisoning.

She gets to the hospital at about 4:30 in the morning. They take care of her, and promptly discharge her at about 7:30 in the morning. She refuses transport back to campus, deciding to walk back instead. Rex Hospital is nearly six miles away from campus. This girl walks back with her bandaged hand, in pajamas and slippers.

Legend says that on the first night of every semester, you can hear her drunken rants on the third floor of the dorm.

"Ruh Roh!"