Dear adoring fans,
After nearly a year of absence, I had decided to restart this blog with one change.
Ok, maybe two changes.
In the past year and the other 21 that I have experienced, I've come to realize that there are many bitches who are effing nuts, and they may not be my roommates. Therefore, this blog will switch to stories of all effing nuts bitches. I will no longer discriminate on the basis of whether or not they resided with me.
Equality for all.
I also request that my adoring fans send me their own tales of bitches who are effing nuts, and I will post the good ones on my blog. The only rule is that names must be changed. The only other rule is that if your story is full of crap writing, I can spruce it up. Everyone loves a snarky blogger.
Stories can be e-mailed to: biseffingnuts@gmail.com
Kisses to all,
C
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Sunday, August 30, 2009
You're crazy, you're nuts, Amen.
I will now switch gears and write of a different roommate, who may be the exact opposite of Dawn. This roommate, who we will call Caitlin, is a slightly odd brand of crazy. She did not roll across our room in a chair nor did she become more than confused over a thermostat.
Caitlin loves Jesus. A lot. Like... A LOT.
Now, I am as down with the G.O.D. as the next person, but I am also more than capable of hearing a variety of opinions on the matter. To each their own, right? Caitlin didn't quite feel that way. To Caitlin, everything she had been given in her life was because of the Jesus. She did not feel like she had earned anything by any doing of her own. It was all because of him.
Hmmm... ok.
Caitlin and I were not very close. We were friendly with one another, but I knew she did not approve of where I worked (HOW could I work for an organization that supported GAY people?!), and it was always a little awkward. Also, talking to her was sort of like talking to a child- you felt like you had to sensor everything you say because she wasn't in touch with reality, and you didn't want to shatter her perfect view of the world.
One night, Caitlin stayed up late and went to bed around 10pm. Around 1am, I went to bed, very exhausted after typing a paper. At approximately 2:30am, I awake to mumbling. Having lived with people who talk in their sleep, I was not too phased at first. However, when the whispering didn't cease after a couple seconds, I began listening to what she was saying. While I could not make out the exact phrases, I could hear several "Jesus"s and "Father"s. She was praying. I looked over at her to see if she was awake, and her arms were raised above her head, toward the cross she had displayed over her bed.
Let me tell you. There is only one thing more freightening than awaking after less than two hours of sleep to your roommate (who has been asleep for nearly five hours) mumbling prayers will reaching toward a cross.
And that is wondering how many times she did it and you didn't wake up.
Bitch is effing nuts.
Caitlin loves Jesus. A lot. Like... A LOT.
Now, I am as down with the G.O.D. as the next person, but I am also more than capable of hearing a variety of opinions on the matter. To each their own, right? Caitlin didn't quite feel that way. To Caitlin, everything she had been given in her life was because of the Jesus. She did not feel like she had earned anything by any doing of her own. It was all because of him.
Hmmm... ok.
Caitlin and I were not very close. We were friendly with one another, but I knew she did not approve of where I worked (HOW could I work for an organization that supported GAY people?!), and it was always a little awkward. Also, talking to her was sort of like talking to a child- you felt like you had to sensor everything you say because she wasn't in touch with reality, and you didn't want to shatter her perfect view of the world.
One night, Caitlin stayed up late and went to bed around 10pm. Around 1am, I went to bed, very exhausted after typing a paper. At approximately 2:30am, I awake to mumbling. Having lived with people who talk in their sleep, I was not too phased at first. However, when the whispering didn't cease after a couple seconds, I began listening to what she was saying. While I could not make out the exact phrases, I could hear several "Jesus"s and "Father"s. She was praying. I looked over at her to see if she was awake, and her arms were raised above her head, toward the cross she had displayed over her bed.
Let me tell you. There is only one thing more freightening than awaking after less than two hours of sleep to your roommate (who has been asleep for nearly five hours) mumbling prayers will reaching toward a cross.
And that is wondering how many times she did it and you didn't wake up.
Bitch is effing nuts.
Monday, August 24, 2009
I test my chairs, too
For the next installment in the Bitch is Effing Nuts series, I would like to recount another tale of Dawn. As I'm sure all can recall, Dawn was my drug-loving, happy-go-lucky roommate who lasted ten weeks.
One afternoon, I came home from some outing that was surely fabulous to find Dawn assembling a large office chair to use in her room. Slightly befuddled by this, only because desk chairs were supplied to each room in our apartment, I retreated to my bedroom to study. Over the course of the next hour, I could hear several grunts and groans coming from the common room, a clear sign of my roommate struggling. However, I am a firm believer that some things, like assembling office chairs, should be left for people to figure out on their own. Therefore, I did not assist.
All of a sudden, while sitting at my computer, likely curing the pain of living with a crazy with a healthy dose of facebook stalking, I heard WHOOSH sound followed by a THUNK. I rushed over to the open door of my bedroom to see Dawn, faceplanted on the floor, with the chair on top of her. My first reaction was to make sure she was ok, which she was. My second was to ask her what the hell she was doing. After inquiring, she informed me that she needed to "test her chair to make sure it worked." She concluded that it did.
Well....
Chair: 1 Dawn: 0
Bitch is effing nuts.
One afternoon, I came home from some outing that was surely fabulous to find Dawn assembling a large office chair to use in her room. Slightly befuddled by this, only because desk chairs were supplied to each room in our apartment, I retreated to my bedroom to study. Over the course of the next hour, I could hear several grunts and groans coming from the common room, a clear sign of my roommate struggling. However, I am a firm believer that some things, like assembling office chairs, should be left for people to figure out on their own. Therefore, I did not assist.
All of a sudden, while sitting at my computer, likely curing the pain of living with a crazy with a healthy dose of facebook stalking, I heard WHOOSH sound followed by a THUNK. I rushed over to the open door of my bedroom to see Dawn, faceplanted on the floor, with the chair on top of her. My first reaction was to make sure she was ok, which she was. My second was to ask her what the hell she was doing. After inquiring, she informed me that she needed to "test her chair to make sure it worked." She concluded that it did.
Well....
Chair: 1 Dawn: 0
Bitch is effing nuts.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Drugs made her cold?
First of all, I'd like to say that I found it very difficult to pick the first story to share with you. For one, I have so many! Also, I wouldn't want to peak too early by picking the best story first and disappointing readers from then on out. I am no Stephenie Meyer (Seriously, what was Breaking Dawn?).
I decided to pick a situation that would fall somewhere in the range of "Did that really just happen?" on the Bitch is Effing Nuts scale.
First semester my junior year of college, I had two different sets of roommate. The second set is who will be featured in this lovely post. And by second set I mean one particular crazy, who I will refer to as Dawn. Dawn and I moved into the apartment on the same weekend, even though it was well into the semester. I had moved into the apartment because my old one contained an ex-boyfriend. She had moved into the apartment because her old one contained roommates who weren't keen on her smoking pot in the common room. Cool.
Knowing that I only had to live with her for ten weeks, I figured the drugs wouldn't be too much of an issue. After all, I had dealt with crazies before, and she seemed nice!
However, as our lovely days together went on, our apartment was gradually becoming more and more uncomfortable, but not for roommate incompatibility. I would come home from class, and our thermostat would be set at 88 degrees. I would promptly lower it to 72, but it would take hours for the temperature to become normal, if it did at all. After several days of sweating in a totally uncute way, I decided to call maintenance. My freshman year, my thermostat broke over winter break, and my dorm was set at a steamy 90 degrees for a week before it was fixed. I assumed that this was a similar situation. When maintenance arrived, he quickly discovered there was no problem. Our heating system was working fine. He asked me if I thought my roommate was setting the temperature, but I thought that was ridiculous. Who would voluntarily set an apartment temperature to be 88 degrees? Regardless, I decided to ask her about it when she came home next.
A few hours later, apartment still kicking it in the 80s, Dawn arrived, complete with bloodshot eyes and a slightly glazed over look. I confronted her about the temperature situation, and the following conversation ensued:
Me: Hey, have you been setting the thermostat at 88?
Dawn: Yah. Like, I turn it up every time when I come in here.
Me: Oh... Are you cold?
Dawn: No, man. Whenever I go to bed, like, I wake up sweating. It's so hot in here.
Me: Then why are you turning the heat up?
Dawn: Dude, like when you turn the heat up, it goes back down.
Me: ...No...
Dawn: Yah, man. Like, if I set it at 88, it goes down.
Me: That's because I turn it down.
Dawn: But I just turn it up whenever I am in here.
Me: But you're hot?
Dawn: Yah, it's always so hot in here.
Me: Then why do you turn the heat up?
Dawn: Because like, it goes down.
At that point, I figured the conversation was going nowhere and went back to my room.
But let this be a lesson to men (and drug addicts?) everywhere: Just because the heat is up, it does not mean that it will go down.
And that is what she said.
And bitch is effing nuts.
I decided to pick a situation that would fall somewhere in the range of "Did that really just happen?" on the Bitch is Effing Nuts scale.
First semester my junior year of college, I had two different sets of roommate. The second set is who will be featured in this lovely post. And by second set I mean one particular crazy, who I will refer to as Dawn. Dawn and I moved into the apartment on the same weekend, even though it was well into the semester. I had moved into the apartment because my old one contained an ex-boyfriend. She had moved into the apartment because her old one contained roommates who weren't keen on her smoking pot in the common room. Cool.
Knowing that I only had to live with her for ten weeks, I figured the drugs wouldn't be too much of an issue. After all, I had dealt with crazies before, and she seemed nice!
However, as our lovely days together went on, our apartment was gradually becoming more and more uncomfortable, but not for roommate incompatibility. I would come home from class, and our thermostat would be set at 88 degrees. I would promptly lower it to 72, but it would take hours for the temperature to become normal, if it did at all. After several days of sweating in a totally uncute way, I decided to call maintenance. My freshman year, my thermostat broke over winter break, and my dorm was set at a steamy 90 degrees for a week before it was fixed. I assumed that this was a similar situation. When maintenance arrived, he quickly discovered there was no problem. Our heating system was working fine. He asked me if I thought my roommate was setting the temperature, but I thought that was ridiculous. Who would voluntarily set an apartment temperature to be 88 degrees? Regardless, I decided to ask her about it when she came home next.
A few hours later, apartment still kicking it in the 80s, Dawn arrived, complete with bloodshot eyes and a slightly glazed over look. I confronted her about the temperature situation, and the following conversation ensued:
Me: Hey, have you been setting the thermostat at 88?
Dawn: Yah. Like, I turn it up every time when I come in here.
Me: Oh... Are you cold?
Dawn: No, man. Whenever I go to bed, like, I wake up sweating. It's so hot in here.
Me: Then why are you turning the heat up?
Dawn: Dude, like when you turn the heat up, it goes back down.
Me: ...No...
Dawn: Yah, man. Like, if I set it at 88, it goes down.
Me: That's because I turn it down.
Dawn: But I just turn it up whenever I am in here.
Me: But you're hot?
Dawn: Yah, it's always so hot in here.
Me: Then why do you turn the heat up?
Dawn: Because like, it goes down.
At that point, I figured the conversation was going nowhere and went back to my room.
But let this be a lesson to men (and drug addicts?) everywhere: Just because the heat is up, it does not mean that it will go down.
And that is what she said.
And bitch is effing nuts.
Introduction
After attending several colleges and living with a plethora of roommates, some sane, most not, I decided to channel my pain and suffering into something that other people might enjoy. Schadenfreude, right?
Plus, let's be serious, I'm a pretty funny person.
The purpose of this blog will be to put the stories of insanity that I have lived over the past three years into writing. All are true. I encourage people to comment with their own ridiculous roommate stories. Talking through these debacles can really help because let's be honest... bitch is effing nuts.
Plus, let's be serious, I'm a pretty funny person.
The purpose of this blog will be to put the stories of insanity that I have lived over the past three years into writing. All are true. I encourage people to comment with their own ridiculous roommate stories. Talking through these debacles can really help because let's be honest... bitch is effing nuts.
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