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I love my apartment. Well, for the most part. There’s a pesky mouse who doesn’t pay rent or clean up after itself who won’t get the hell out of my place (or die), but then again, with a few visits from the exterminator paid for by my landlord, I think I would rather live with Willard (that’s what I call him…) than you crazy, dirty and trifling roommates of the world. You know, you individuals who trick people into thinking you have sense, but wind up leaving crusty, and sometimes bloody panties (with the crotch out) on the floor in front of those who’ve had the unfortunate circumstance of renting a place with you. And I’d probably favor Willard’s occasional visits over you because I spent a good chunk of my young adulthood sharing dorm rooms and apartments with you guys, and it prepped me for the reality that my behind is best suited to live solo dolo.

How do I loathe your ratchetry? Let me count the ways. I’ve dealt with the roommate who smoked in our room when I wasn’t there and left the stench of death (aka, secondhand smoke) floating around. I dealt with her pretending we were family by raking my comb through her head (when her hygiene was questionable) and leaving her greasy strands in it when she gave it back to me. Oh yeah, that’s right, I lied. Not only did she not have permission, but she left my comb on her desk like she went to the beauty supply and bought it herself.

Then I had the roommate who let her friends barge into our place of residence without knocking because of their awkward sense of entitlement. And worse, when I went out of my way to lock the front door, I was questioned by these same people as to why the door was locked all of a sudden. It truly took everything in my power not to throw these people down a flight of stairs, but they seemed to think we were friends (hence them looking me up on Facebook and trying to make me one of three black faces on their friend’s list).

Then I had the roommate in college who used to ask me to cut everything off by 11…including my study light, and then the crazy chick who wouldn’t stop talking (and at the surround sound level) during my shows: “WHAT DID HE SAY!?” “I CAN’T F***ING STAND ROCSI!!!” “WHAT YOU WATCHIN’???” Safe to say, I fell out with her when I found myself going near deaf. And then I had watch my back because she was crazy as hell. The evening we argued, she told me, “Good night, girl” in a calm and creepy voice as I closed my eyes and laid back in my bed. From then on, a butter knife was well-placed under my pillow. Just in case. And don’t get me started on the other roommates I’ve had, who didn’t know mold could grow in cups when you didn’t wash dishes, and that flies would appear when you left McDonald’s hamburger wrappers on the couch for a whole day, or would have the living room looking like a glitter bomb with a side of tafetta and sequins hit it as they pursued dreams of a career in fashion.

While none of you ladies mentioned were bad people, you had no “act right,” and sadly there are many young men and women walking the earth like this, and you need to get your act together if this is you! You don’t have the money to live alone, yet you want to act like you live alone by letting boyfriends piss on shared toilet seats, having loud, obnoxious sex with said boyfriend, having pets you know nobody wanted you to have, eating food you didn’t contribute a dime to, and letting your friends walk in and out and act a fool in a space they don’t pay rent for!? I smell bull***. Oh yeah, and unless your friends are Maxine from “Living Single,” they’re not welcome. And don’t get me started on those of you who try and duck and dodge paying your rent!

The saying goes, “Treat others how you would want to be treated,” and I doubt there’s anyone who would want to deal with an individual clipping their toe nails and leaving the left behind pieces to stab folks in the foot, or to leave dishes in the sink for more than a day, or blast music like an amateur DJ, so stop doing that!  There’s nothing wrong with having a lapse in judgment from time to time, but when you’re consistently being crazy, dirty and trifling, you’re dead wrong. When you don’t know better, you can’t do better, but when you’ve been warned, you need to get in line. And if not, you’ve got three choices: go find your own place, pay ALL the rent since you want to be pretend to live alone, or head back to your mother’s house and let her clean up after you. All those over the age of 2, you’ve been warned…


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