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Dear New Roommate,
Ok, so now that we've worked out the great issue of leaving my toothbrush on the counter, what say we tackle a few more issues? Like stop messing with my computer. Until I get my hands on an ethernet cable more than 6 inches long, it's gonna have to stay in the dining room. You've got your own computer, stop changing my homepage to the most annoying sites you can find.

Also, I like my sleep. I don't get enough. Yes, I know I'm kinda dumb like that, but I'd appreciate if you guys wouldn't contribute so much to my lack of sleep. Yes, I'm all nice and complacent and half asleep when you wake me up in the middle of the night with all your guitar playing and instant messaging- don't think I won't kick your ass.

Oh, and learn which door opens into *your* room, k? (Hint: yours is straight ahead, not to the side)

Much Appreciate!
Fuego

Shiatty Roommates

Date: 2004-02-15 04:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sherarara.livejournal.com
You want to hear about terrible flatmates? Lemme tell you about terrible flatmates . . .

There are three sorority girls living in the flat with Michelle and I. They wash their dirty skanky dishes once a week, whether they need them or not. They use up all the hot water in one shower (we get 15 minutes of hot water every 12 hours or so). They leave to go exploring for the weekend and leave behind dirty dishes all over the house and a sink full of them. They wash their clothes almost every single day, which means that the drying rack are always full of their shite. Never take out the trash. Can not fathom that you can't run the washing machine, all the lights in the house, a computer, the hot water tank, and a hair dryer at the same time. They keep shorting out every electrical appliance in the house. We have one internet connection. Two of them brought laptops, yet continue to waste time on the machine with the internet connection doing non-web stuff making it impossible for anyone else to even dream of getting work done.

Oh yeah. And they're really frelling stupid. They bought a kohlrabi thinking it was an onion. They had a 15 minute arguement about what language was spoken in Austria ("I'm pretty sure it's Austrian, guys." "I thought it was some form of Russian."). They followed the directions to make a box of macaroni and cheese.

And that's just me getting started.

This bitch session has been brought to you by the letter "R".

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