The Worst Roommate Ever

He locks his Nintendo Wii and "Guitar Hero III" game in his room when he leaves. He writes debts down to the very last penny in a small, pocket notebook. He leaves the entire apartment a wreck while keeping his room crystal clean, and if you ask him for a favor, he'll ask for one right back. Yes, he's The Worst Roommate Ever and I have the divine privilege of living with the guy.

Sure, you could call me the bad roommate. I smoke in the house and write all day comfortable on a futon while my roommate dulls through transactions at our town's local bank. We're both guilty of messes we haven't cleaned up and yeah, I'm scared to touch the laundry mountain in my room in the fear that a spider colony will come out and attack me. But let's face it, the worst roommate ever isn't loud, messy, obnoxious or inconsiderate. My roommate wins the title because of one simple thing: He is outrageously lame beyond all possible compare.

Every night at 8:56 PM my roommate heads to his room with the slogan "Welp, I'm going to sleep.", and with a quick stretch, closes the door to get his jami-jams on. (I'm guessing he calls them 'jam-jams' simply because it's a very lame way to identify a pair of pajamas that will help illustrate my point.)

After his cuddly night sleeping in his baseball-themed bed, my roommate wakes up and heads to work in his black Honda. As you may well know, 97% of lames drive a Honda which further conveys my roommate's lame-esque persona. Later he returns home with a ambient techno mix CD or maybe a box set Prince collection, but whatever the case may be, you can rest assured it is very, very lame.

Later in the day I get hungry and look for a leftover pork chop I'd left in the fridge. Not surprised I find that it's gone along with a bottle of water and a quart of vanilla ice cream that was waiting for me in the fridge. In the place of all these missing items only one clue was left in their places: The uncanny residue leftover from extremely lame hands.

I wanted to cry and outrage, but it was no use. It was already 9 and my roommate had put on his jami-jams, set his Mickey Mouse alarm clock and gone to sleep. For his birthday we thought about filling his bathtub and dumping in some 40 freshwater fish, but since that'd be too expensive, an article about him seemed good enough.