The Roast of My College Roommates

Stewie

My first year as Western University was awesome. I lived in a new dorm where you and three other roomies share a common room and kitchen. With cable! My whole hallway took the same classes and we all hung out and hit the bars together. And I was using and dealing weed and mushrooms. Very trippy. Very fun.

My roommates and everybody were cool but the life of the party was Stewie. I came a day later and thought that was his real name. Apparently he cooked some stew or soup and that became his nickname. His real name was Jason. If you care. And we called my brown roomy Brown Town.

As I said, he was a big fat party animal. Just like Pluto. He was hilarious. Everyone loved getting high with him. Especially the ladies. Yes the ladies loved him but he wasn’t getting any action. It might be that all of the chicks were just way too hot and there were not really any homely or other fat girls.

So everyone was putting up posters and we both had Scar Face posters. What an awesome movie; the end is the best. Yes we had the same taste in movies and T.V. But he loved wrestling. I thought it was gay. And he called one of my favorite shows Kids in the Hall gay. Okay, the one guy is flaming. But I told him he has to see their movie Brain Candy. He loved it.

My beef with Stew was that he had shitty taste in music. Like Nickelback or Edwin. He especially played a lot of Creed, really loud. The guy can’t sing worth shit and all of his songs are about is Jesus. “We arms wide open…”

My French Roommate

My second year at college I lucked out and got my own room again. Good thing because I would hate to share a room with another dude. I don’t know how that would work. I mean do you go to go to sleep at the same time. “Goodnight Greg.” “Goodnight frog. Hey frog, do you listen to French rock music? Oh never mind. Good night.”

In the first semester this French foreign exchange student also had his own room next to mine and we shared a bathroom. I don’t know if he put all of his toiletries back in his room each time he used them because I never seen any of his soap or shampoo in the bathroom. I hope he wasn’t using mine. He never even drank our water. I mean we have crisp fresh water. I guess he is used to his piss poor Paris sewer water.

He spoke English well. Even better than me. I mean even better than I. But we never really had an actual conversation. Classes were a breeze and I had them on Monday through to Wednesday. So I had a huge fucking long weekend. The problem was everyone in my hall was 18. Sure I bought everyone booze and we played a lot of drinking games but I had nobody to go to the bars with me.  Except Frenchy.

So I went to the bar alone on a Wednesday to get my drink on. And I ran into him. He was with his other foreign friends. I said hi and he said hi but he didn’t even introduce me to them. So a few weeks later I saw him again and he barely acknowledged me. So I thought screw it be a foreign asshole. Go back to France, wear a beret and drink your wine.

Later on I was trying to get up early and hit the snooze button two times. I didn’t even know he could hear it. But I woke him up. Okay my bad. But all he had to do is ask me to just get up the first time my alarm goes off. No he came over and was totally pissed off and told me to “turn it off, I’m not going to say it again.” And that was the last time we ever spoke.

The next semester there was this Russian student that sounded British for some reason. He was very well mannered and the first time we chatted he said we should get acquainted.

Again I invited him to the bar but he was always busy. He never left his room expect to go to class. You come all the way from Russia to stay in a small room and miss out in the college experience. I guess Mother Russia wanted to send this nerd to impress people instead of some party animal. Or maybe he was a spy.

Jerome

My third year college classes were much tougher than the past two. Again I got my own room and shared a common room with two other guys. With cable! There was my favorite roommate JP McCool and my nice and friendly roommate Jerome.

However for being a Jamaican, my roommate Jerome was the most uptight person I have ever met. And he didn’t even smoke weed. I think there is an unspoken rule that if you’re Jamaican you can smoke the ganja where ever you go.

He had some awesome dreadlocks. Then his ex-girl friend cut them off. And I’m like why?! I don’t know how long it takes to grow them, braid them and go without washing them? Speaking of ex-girlfriend, she hung around all of the time. Without being a fuck buddy.

Me and my other roommate McCool became great friends and Jerome felt left out. But we asked him all of the time if he wants to drink some beer, watch a movie, go to the bar with us.  Or just shoot the shit. When his birthday came around he actually wrote down a message asking his friends to come to his birthday. That’s funny.

Of course he can’t drink worth a damn. I heard he was puking all over the toilet. Good thing he had his own bathroom. I don’t even remember the last time I puked all over the toilet. Haha. Because I don’t make it to one in time. Haha.

There was this long running joke since the first few days Jerome couldn’t find his tape. He kept asking us all of the time if we seen his tape. Look Jerome, me and JP don’t have your damn tape, it must be in your room or the common room. I didn’t even know why he wanted tape, but whatever.

I should have just bought him another one because he was clearly too damn cheap to buy it himself. Then the last day he picked up his text book and his tape was there all along. I still don’t know why he didn’t move the book earlier or need the text book in the first place.

JP McCool

McCool was my favorite college roommate and good friend. What a McCool name. That year would have sucked balls without him. Sure the first few weeks I went to the bar with some people down the hall. It was fun but nobody smoked weed and I didn’t have much in common. And I kind of pissed off some of them when I left the bar really drunk and they looked all over for me.

I remember this plump girl wanted me to get facebook. And I was thinking what the Hell is facebook? It took me a while to finally get one. Then I wrote a series of these stupid long ass comments that I thought were funny and lost a lot of my friends. But this gave birth to this very blogpage where I can write about anything I want. Like Frisbee golf or leprechauns.

At the time I was pretty fat. I really let myself go. Oh Big Macs and loneliness are a dangerous mix. I guess it’s because I love to eat. And me and JP love our Kraft dinner. He had like a cauldron and we would share two or more boxes of Kraft dinner or Kraft brunch.

So I didn’t have much chance with any decent looking chicks. Even though girls have low standards. And my pal Wilson made fun of me. I now lost over 30 pounds and almost have a six pack. Hello ladies.

JP is a smart guy. After all he went to a private school. I knew a guy at soccer who also attended private school. He was very kind but he didn’t really have much social skills.  

But JP was McCool.

I think JP majored in physics and messed around with lasers. He is like the guys off of the Big Bang Theory. But not so much of a nerd. So he really helped me out with a lot of math. I was hoping he could have took the exam in my place.

Speaking of exams, I’m pretty damn good at them. I suck at essay questions or fill in the blanks but if I see the options I can tell the right answer. “Oh teach, you would want me to pick A wouldn’t you?” I take my time and wait till the very end to hand it in. I go through the whole exam for questions I’m certain of. And then I go through it again a little slower and leave the ones I have no clue till the end.

Too bad I really had to go the bathroom during one. I was about to shit my pants and couldn’t wait an hour. So I explained my situation to the T.A. and it worked out anyway.

Now this is getting way, way off topic but I was watching what I think was British Who Wants to be a Millionaire and one of the answers was obviously the letter B. But the letter B was actually on the option C. If you see what I’m getting at. And it fucked with his mind. So he picked option B and lost. It was almost unbearable to watch.

While off topic; one time the hall monitor came by because the bitches across the hall wanted us to turn down the volume. Look if its too loud than just swing on by and just ask. You know, instead of tattling on us. And the janitor broke my Wii cables but didn’t take any responsibility. And I missed Wii bowling.

We had some good times. Good thing me and JP love to drink beer and we didn’t like dance bars. The second semester we both took astronomy on Monday and had no classes on Tuesday. Astronomy was a joke. Even for me. And the campus bar was right around the corner.

I had a credit card which was like free money and we’d get two or more pitchers of beer. Each. And maybe some fries. Each. We met some interesting people. I remember we were chatting with this hot chick that was going out with her professor. Hilarious.

We would then walk home all drunk and call the lesbians at the all-women’s dorm, lesbians. Or quote Grandma’s boy. “I want metal legs.” On weekends we would bar hop all down Richmond Street and get pizza. Yes we had some adventures. And I’m planning making some more when I visit the T.O. whenever the weather isn’t like absolute zero.