Anyone that has ever lived with a roommate, whether they are a friend or a stranger, knows that everyone has some weird habits. Strange food preferences, odd sleep habits, and questionable methods of cleaning are just the tipping point. These Redditors shared the weird and disturbing things they have caught their roommates doing when they thought they had the place to themselves.
I had two roommates that kept eating all of my food. Within the first week, I went to make myself a peanut butter sandwich, my first peanut butter sandwich in this dorm. It was gone. They left the tub in my cupboard. Anyways I flipped out because who eats a whole tub of peanut butter by themselves, without even introducing themselves?
These girls would literally scarf down all my food and then complain if they thought anyone was touching their food. So, one day, I came up with the perfect revenge. I started buying really fattening food. I was trying to teach them self-restraint, but these girls would go through the boxes within two days. So, I kept buying doughnuts.
And then one day they started complaining about how they couldn't fit their jeans. Success. I also put laxatives in my peanut butter.
She had this cup full of some mysterious liquid by her bed. There's no better way to describe it really. She kept her toothbrush in it, bristles down in the liquid. When it came to teeth brushing time, she'd basically just take the toothbrush out, brush her teeth, spit into the cup, and shove her toothbrush back into her cup. I'm retching just thinking about it.
I used to live with what I've decided was one of the most disgusting couples ever. We lived in a two-bedroom, one-bath apartment. They would use my dishes and leave them in their room, unwashed, usually with food in them. They didn't want to buy a litter box for their cat, so they took a plastic gallon tub and just dumped litter in it. Their cat constantly peed in their closet on their shoes, and they'd just continue wearing them.
However, here's the worst part of all. When we moved out, I had to clean everything, otherwise, we wouldn't get our deposit back. They had cleaned out most of their things and I let them know I was going to clean their room. They said cool because they were never going to do it anyway. I go in, armed with gloves, a scarf covering my mouth, and a bottle of bleach. Boy was I unprepared.
I walked in and this stench just hits me. Their bedroom door was always closed, and they always had incense burning so I never smelled it. There were a couple of cardboard boxes filled with poop and toilet paper. I ran out of there so fast. I called them screaming and demanding to know what was going on. They said sometimes I would be in the bathroom and instead of knocking or holding their bladder, they would go in the boxes.
They tried to play it off as "we take it out once a week" like it was changing the litter box.
I roomed with an international student my freshmen year at university. She was nice, but we didn't talk much because she wasn't very confident in her English skills and because I spent a lot of time in my boyfriend's room. One day, I came back to the room to shower before class. It was mid-afternoon, probably around 4 pm. But what I saw scared the living daylights out of me.
My roommate, Ruth, was lying face-down on a pile of her shoes, about a foot from her bed. I paused to absorb this. "Ruth?" I said. Nothing. I repeated her name, then screamed it. Nothing. At this point, I was trying to process the fact that I had discovered my roommate's corpse. I knew she'd been struggling with seasonal affective disorder. I knew I hadn't been a very good roommate.
I was freaking out. I tried one last time. I started shaking her, screaming. Almost immediately, she turned around and looked at me like I was the weird one. "What?" she asked. "You were lying, face-down, on a pile of your shoes, unresponsive," I replied, breathless. "I got tired," Ruth said, casually. I still don't have an adequate explanation for what happened that day.
My roommate would sometimes go out to do lord knows what and then come in late at night. It would be well after midnight, sometimes two or three in the morning, and I would be in bed asleep already. But she would always wake me up because she was so loud coming in. She would come in, flip the lights on, and whisper my name a couple of times to see if I would respond.
I wouldn't respond. I would pretend to be asleep because I didn't really like her or want to talk to her, especially that late at night. As soon as she thought I was asleep, she would let it rip. I'm talking loud, long farts. It was really hard not to laugh.
Years ago, I lived with a bunch of strangers in a house and one of our roommates didn't speak English. It was Christmas break, so I was out of school and had tons of free time. I was chilling in the common area reading, as I had been doing for a week, and this roommate, who I can't communicate with, starts cooking something spicy on the stove.
All of a sudden, he started to panic and yell in his language. I could hear pots banging and furious chopping of vegetables or something. This goes on for SIX hours. Yelling, chopping, yelling, chopping. Finally, he comes out from the kitchen six hours later with a tiny bowl of soup. I thought okay, he must have prepped a week's worth of meals and stored the rest.
But later that night, I went to leave out the back door and discovered a disturbing scene: There was this beef soup concoction strewn throughout the lawn. He had dumped pots worth of soup outside. To this day, I'm still not sure what happened with this guy in that kitchen.
I walked into the room for the first-time freshman year and saw him standing in the middle of the room screaming at his dad. He was yelling about not wanting to go, and how he blamed his mom for writing his college essay and filling out the application. He kept calling my roommate ungrateful and threatened to beat him if he tried to leave.
It was right after he finished speaking that they realized I was in the room. They both pretended nothing had happened, shook my hand, and introduced themselves. Luckily, my parents had not walked in with me, so they didn't have to see that and end up worried. Eventually, my parents met his parents as they helped me set up the room and talked about how proud of us they were.
Eduardo's dad kept saying things like, "It's either college or the street, cause I'm not paying to support a failure." My parents of course thought he was joking. Every day this kid told me how much he hated school. He would never go to class, drink in the room all day, scream at everyone, party all night, and generally just be a dick.
He used to watch VH1 every night until 4 am, with the volume cranked up so loud you couldn't hear. When I asked him to turn it down because I couldn't hear, he said he would if I wrestled him. Turned out he was serious. He wanted to WRESTLE me, because of me asking him to turn down that Bret Michaels Rock of Love show.
I declined and went to bed. The next day, he called his mom to come get him, and she agreed and said she was getting in the car. She never came. He LOST IT. He broke everything he owned. Punched a hole through his TV, slammed his guitar hero controllers on the ground repeatedly, threw his Xbox out the window, cracked his cell phone in half, and ripped his bedsheets.
He basically totaled his side of the room. I left the room during all this, assuming he was just blowing off steam, and not knowing he was breaking his stuff. I walked back into a warzone, with him standing in the middle of the room crying, drinking laundry detergent, and yelling. I ran to get the RA, and when RA and I re-entered the room, this kid was throwing up detergent and bleeding.
He left that night. The next morning, he woke me up to say goodbye. Last thing he said to me? "Goodbye Jayquack, sorry about ruining your birthday."
Three of my friends all shared a house together and one day I popped over with one of them after we had been out and about doing some errands. The front door had the chain on, so we went around to the back door. When we went in, our jaws literally dropped...There was our other friend naked, wanking, standing up in the kitchen, with his laptop on an ironing board.
He just went, "Oh no, " and we walked back out and went to the pub nearby. He joined us 20 minutes later for a pint and tried to act as nothing had happened.
In college, we had a house with five rooms and, for a while, had a bunch of roommates that would come and go pretty quickly. This resulted in Steve, a random friend of a former roommate moving in. Shortly thereafter, Steve’s brother Kevin moved in and a couple of weeks later, Steve moved out. So, we were left with an empty room and Kevin, who we really didn’t know and seemed like a really sketchy guy.
As it turned out, he was really was a sketchy guy; he was very heavy into drugs and just generally trashy. One of my other roommates, Carl, let me know the morning after a party that someone was coming by later to check out the vacant room. So, we started cleaning up the cups and whatnot leftover from the party the night before.
My little brother had stayed the night, so he and I were cleaning the upstairs. Carl was outside cleaning up some things in the front yard when the person coming to look at the room pulled up. Carl introduced himself and started showing her around the house. He brought her upstairs and introduced her to me and my brother and then showed her to what would be her room.
Finally, he walked her out, and my brother and I start talking about how she seemed kind of trashy and a little bit old to be interested in a room by a college campus like we had, but whatever. All of the sudden, Carl comes running up the stairs laughing his head off. He explained that after he’d finished the tour and walked out with the girl, she stopped him and said, “I don’t think you know why I’m here.”
Carl responded, “You’re interested in the room we have, right?” Her response floored us. She said, “Umm no, I’m an escort. Someone named Kevin called for me.” It turned out Kevin had called a prostitute and we just gave her a tour of the whole house. I can’t imagine what was going through her head as Carl was saying things like, “And here’s your room” and, “This is my roommate and his brother.”
She must have thought she was getting into some crazy freaky stuff. Needless to say, she didn’t move in, and we encouraged Kevin to move out shortly thereafter.
I lived with a furry once, and his bedroom had a number of posters and prints of furry characters, some not dressed appropriately, some not dressed at all. That didn't bug me at all, but I did find it pretty weird how he refused to take them down whenever he had company over, including his grandmother who didn't seem to approve of his taste in women or modesty.
My roommate, and best friend at the time, was secretly making cocktails at night, which alone was odd because we were both drinkers. But it got weirder. One day, I opened the cabinet that stored all the fancy Waterford drinkware from my failed first marriage and half of it was gone. After looking through the other kitchen cabinets, I decided to break the roommate code and look in her room, mainly because it just seemed odd.
I opened her door, and her bedroom was the typical constant mess she had always lived in. I saw two tumblers on her bedside table. Weirded out, I went to grab them and noticed a sudden stench of dog poop. Against my better judgment, I looked under her bed and saw the rest of the glasses and random piles of dog poop amidst other debris. Pretty horrified, I grabbed all the glasses and got out of there.
When she got home, I decided to tell her immediately what happened because, of course, she was going to notice the glasses were gone from her table. I asked her why she had the glasses in her room, and she told me about her nightly cocktails. Then I asked her if she was trying to hide her drinking and she got very defensive.
So, I dropped it and asked that she not use the glasses anymore since they were expensive and fragile. She agreed and that was that. Nothing about the dog poop was discussed. About two months later, she moved out and stopped talking to me. Her bedroom carpet and room were so gross the landlords charged us almost $1000 for repairs, which she did pay.
To this day I’ll always wonder why the fancy glasses? The secret nighttime cocktails? The dog poop?
My roommate was catfishing his former roommate. We shared a computer in the house, and I came across a chat window he left open revealing a very lengthy and graphic conversation where my roommate was pretending to be a girl and getting nasty with the other guy. When I asked him about it, he claimed it was to get revenge on his old roommate over a security deposit thing.
He said he was going to print off all the chat conversations and mail them to his roommate’s mom. I never used the computer again.
So, this happened just this year, my freshman year in college. My roommate and I got along great, we were good friends, and we knew each other well. One day, I had to go to an office building on campus to increase my meal plan and turn in some forms. It was on a Tuesday, a day on which neither of us had class. As I was leaving, he woke up, so I told him where I was going and left.
To my surprise, the building was a lot closer than I thought. I went in, filled out my forms, and lo and behold, I was done in about five minutes, super easy. So I leave, grabbed some breakfast to go, and walked back to the dorms. I get to our door, not thinking of anything really, it was about 10:30 am on a Tuesday. I tried to open the door, but it was locked.
The chain lock was on the door, so it only opened about 13 cm (5 in), but it was a perfect line of sight to my roommate. His pants were around his ankles, smackin' the lobster right at his computer, full-screened and all. We made eye contact and exclaimed, at the same exact time, "Okay…" I closed the door and awkwardly sat outside my room with no idea what to do.
A minute or so later, he opened the door and was apologizing profusely and trying to laugh it off. Mainly, I thought it was funny and a bit weird, but we're both cool guys and knew we did it so we moved on. Now that wasn’t so bad, it happens, right? Well, I ate my breakfast at my desk and a few minutes later I'm finishing up a great breakfast burrito.
I stood up to throw the wrapper in the trash can under my bed, and lo and behold, it wasn’t there. Now, this was a fairly small room, so it wasn’t like you could hide a trash can in many places. I looked at my roommate and said, "...Hey man, do you know where my trash can is?" He looked at me like a deer in the headlights, and quickly sputtered out, "No man, I don't know, is it gone? That's weird."
I accepted this answer, but I still couldn’t find it, so I said, "If you took it, man...it's ok, just tell me." I realized it was weird, so I kind of trailed off. He insisted he didn’t have it. I walked over to his desk, and there it was. Right in the landing zone of where his baby juices were headed. He looked at it, back at me, and just said, "I normally never use yours."
It was a weird few weeks that followed. I always knock now.
My ex-roommate, when having a nosebleed, would let the blood pour into a cup. We didn't know this and would later use the cup—of course, he washed it, but he never told anyone. He was caught in the act by another roommate. He had psychological problems—you could just tell. He used to sing at like two in the morning or play his weird guitar, which wasn't a real guitar.
He would laugh hysterically—and don't get me wrong, I laugh at funny things as well, but not like THAT—like hysterically. One time I wanted to use the shower and he needed to go to the bathroom, yes, the two were in the same room, so I told him he could go and that I would wait. But he insisted that I should go and that he didn’t mind if I showered while he did his business or whatever.
Of course, I kindly declined. Then he took it ONE STEP FURTHER and went like, "No, no, I don't mind your being naked in front of me, I would like to see you naked." I don't have problems with nudity, but this was something else. On multiple occasions, we had these long talks about everyday problems because I felt sort of sorry for him as I could tell he didn't speak to anyone else, not even to his parents.
So, one evening he came into my room, sat down, and asked me what’s better, being with a virgin or a girl who has already lost her virginity. And I of course said that it didn't matter as long as you really liked the girl. AND THEN he just casually mentions, "Hey, you know...I'm still a virgin." I choked and said, "Oh, really? I couldn't tell."
Now, at this point, my other roommate, who was sitting next to us, dropped his earphones, opened his mouth, and just stared at us in disbelief. So yes, last year was interesting, but did he ever cook like a French chef. And he wasn't a bad guy, so I still feel somewhat sorry for him. He later moved out and I haven't heard from him since.
Now this year I have a different roommate and, well, the noises he makes when he sleeps are something else. You've seen at least one Jurassic Park movie, right? The special sound effect that mimics the dinosaur noises—that's how he sounds. Every. Single. Night.
This one is what my roommate walked in on me doing. So, it was the middle of winter, and I had come in after classes and looked in the mirror. My hair was a mess from all of the wind we had been getting. In the spur of the moment, I decided that I was sick of it. Haircuts cost money though, so I grabbed some scissors and started chopping 25 to 30 cm (10 to 12 in) of my hair off.
My roommate didn't come in until I had mostly finished and started to even it out. There was no good way for me to see the back of my head, so I loosely wrapped a belt around the top of my neck and tried to go off that. This is around the moment when she walked in, with bits of my hair everywhere, a belt tied around my neck, and me squatting on a chair trying to cut the hair on the back of my head.
That was the first time I had ever heard her curse. Once she cooled down and finished telling me how stupid I was and not to ever tie belts around my neck, she helped me even it out and left me to clean up my hair. I had caught most of it in double-ended ponytails, so it was just the small pieces from the evening it out that were the issue. But it didn't end there.
The hair was on the floor, counter, and all over me. I cleaned up the bathroom and decided to take off my shirt and vacuum it too. It worked for the most part, but I noticed that there were bits of hair all over my back and chest. I took off my bra, turned the vacuum around, and started vacuuming my chest. Then she walked in again to see me shirtless and basically stabbing myself in the chest with a vacuum.
One time, I walked out of my bedroom and found my roommate lying on the kitchen floor. I asked if he was alright because I thought maybe he had slipped or something, but he said, “Nope, just wanted to dirty myself before having a shower.” He proceeded to make floor angels and lay there for another good 15 minutes or so.
My roommate freshman year was this cute little redhead, I was jazzed until it became apparent that she did all of the drugs. My friend stopped by when I wasn't home, my roommate told him, "You can hang out with me and wait for him." He thought, "Cute little redhead, why not?" She went to her room for about two minutes, returned completely unclothed.
My buddy was definitely thinking "oh yeah, this is a porno come to life"—but he couldn't have been more wrong. She completely ignored his presence, opened the refrigerator, and exclaimed, "Oh cool!" She then pulled all the shelves out of the fridge, climbed inside, and closed the door behind her. He stood there in stunned silence for a few minutes...and then he left, confused and aroused.
My response upon hearing the story was, "Yeah, she's like that."
One evening, I came home from work early and was surprised to find my roommate in a shocking state of undress. He was just standing there in his tighty whities and motorcycle helmet playing a racing game. There was no explanation for it, and he didn’t seem to be bothered that I caught him in his "racing gear." Sir, put some clothes on.
I had a roommate in college who would constantly brag to people on the phone that he was in the army. A conversation would go something like this, "Bro, I swear to God we flew over the desert and got like 50 terrorists." I would be like dude you are in your robe, watching TV. When he came back home, his friends threw him a welcome home party as if he was actually in the army.
Plus, he used to rent army costumes and post pictures of himself in them on Facebook and stuff like that.
In 1983 I was a sophomore in college, and I had this really odd roommate named Opie. He did a lot of weird things, but one stands out. I owned this knife that I guess was technically a switchblade. One day he borrowed it and proceeded to pull down his pants and stab himself in the sack with it. That knife got a thorough cleaning after that.
My roommate was too lazy to take the trash out to the dumpster, so they would just put the full bags of garbage in the outdoor storage closet on our balcony. I had no idea until one day we were cleaning, and they said, “We have to take the other trash out too.” There were at least 20 full bags of trash in there, all piled high and reeking. It was disgusting.
I had a roommate in college who had a thing for making love to very, very large women. He had a room on the ground floor off the living room where we would all hang out. He was too embarrassed to admit his preferences in women, so he would force his hookups to exit through his window. But there was just one problem. Our house was L-shaped, and his window was visible from the living room.
On numerous occasions, we got to watch large women fall out of his window.
In my first barracks room while I was in the navy, I had a roommate named Colby. Colby survived off chicken patties, smokes, and mountain dew. He would play video games and watch movies that were rather disturbing. This kid slept with a K-bar under his pillow, but he was super nice. Anyhow, six months into living with this character, it was like 2 am, and he woke up screaming bloody murder.
I hopped out of my little bed, terrified. I thought we were about to die. As quickly as it started, it ended. I went to wake him up because I was sweaty and scared. He woke up annoyed. I told him what happened, and he proceeded to tell me that he gets night terrors. Great. This would happen like once every month or so and I had gotten used to it.
I kept a football by my bed and would throw the football at his head as hard as I could every time it happened. It drove me nuts. Fast forward to my first deployment. Mind you, in the navy, you sleep in “racks.” Basically, just bunk beds but worse and there was about 15 cm (6 in) between your face and the bunk above you.
When the time rolled around for this guy to have his first night terror on the ship, it wasn’t terrifying like the first time I encountered it, but completely hilarious. It was loud SCREAM followed by an immediate BONK. He knocked himself out every time. Probably wasn’t easy on him, but not much was in the navy. Everyone in the berthing got a kick out of it every time it happened.
I was out one day, and when I arrived home, I walked in on pure horror. I stumbled across my roommate’s girlfriend shaving his backside for him. They were both startled when they saw me, but I think I had an even bigger look of shock on my face. Unfortunately, that image will be etched in my mind forever.
I walked in on five of my roommates waterboarding the sixth. It was a Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (ROTC) house, and we had discussed the topic before, and I guess after a couple of fifths they decided to actually go through with it. The guy getting waterboarded was strapped to our ping pong table with a dishcloth over his head. A female friend and I walked in as my scariest-looking roommate was about to pour a gallon of water on this guy’s face.
On the upside, my female friend and I went straight upstairs.
I moved to Dallas with a girl I had been roommates with in-flight attendant training. She had a balcony through her room that connected to the living room, but we always kept that door locked. One day she woke me up early and told me I had to go somewhere because she had a guy coming over and needed the place to herself.
Before he showed up to our apartment, I went to the balcony through her room to smoke before leaving. I must have been outside longer than I intended because when I took my headphones out, I heard a slapping sound and light moans coming from her room. I was like, great, I can never get this out of my head. But it gets even better.
I went to let myself back inside but realized that the door leading to the living room was locked, and the only way back into the apartment would be through her bedroom. I wasn’t even supposed to be there. So, in my desperation, I climbed over the railing, stepped onto the downstairs neighbors’ balcony, and continued down from there.
I thought the whole thing was so funny that later when I got home, I told her about my mishap only to be faced with the truth. The man she had invited over was from a seedy website, and the reason why she had invited him over was to spank her. Not judging her interests, but I caught my roommate being spanked by a stranger.
My old roommate had a picture of him and his mom by his bedside. His mom looked a LOT like Dinah Shore which sort of made sense because so did he when I thought about it. He had a sort of round face, blonde hair, and he was gay, and somehow, that all fit together in my head. Then one day we were all in his room and I told him “Rodney, I have to say your mom looks just like Dinah Shore.”
He asked, “How do you know what my mom looks like?” And I pointed to the picture. Rodney says, “That’s not my mom. That’s Dinah Shore.”
My 15-year-old stepbrother was staying at my family's house and thought he had the entire place to himself. I came out of my room to look for food after sleeping in really late. As I was walking down the hallway toward the living room, I could hear the TV on but turned down almost all the way. Something told me to peek around the corner instead of just walking into the living room, and what I saw still haunts me to this day.
He was not sitting on the couch masturbating. He was squatting on top of the cushion, staring at the TV with his mouth hanging open and masturbating. I immediately looked away and started to walk back down the hallway as quickly and quietly as possible. Then I heard it. The TV was turned up just enough to where the last thing I heard before taking refuge in my room was that iconic "DUN DUN" from Law and Order.
To this day I've coined his particular style, as "The Gargoyle."
My college dorm mate had this weird thing with wanting me to think she was cool or fun or something. So, every time I came home and put my key in to unlock the door, she would start hysterically laughing at whatever show she had on. I tested it multiple times to make sure. When I tiptoed up to the door—nothing. When I stood there for a couple of seconds and then put the key in—laughter to the point of tears.
Many years ago, I lived in a "party house." Always a crazy scene. One night was a typical Saturday bacchanalia. I went to bed relatively early and got up in the morning. My roomie was asleep on the sofa in a sitting position, snoring away. In one hand, he grasped a fully cooked pork chop. In the other hand, he had a saltshaker. But here's the best part.
My walking around had roused him. He woke up, glanced around all bleary-eyed, then looked at his hands. He slowly shook some salt on his pork chop and started eating it. Breakfast of Champions. I never asked where he got the pork chop or how he slept for six hours without dropping the pork chop or the saltshaker. It was what it was.
When we were in university, we shared a house with a fairly odd guy. One weekend, his family came to visit. They all went out to watch a rugby game...or so we thought. We were having a few drinks and thought we could smell gas coming from upstairs, so we checked the bedrooms and found nothing. The roommate’s bedroom door was locked, so of course, we kicked it in.
We rushed into the room and the roommate’s mom was on her knees, arms on the bed praying in what sounded like tongues. The best thing? She didn't even flinch when we kicked the door in. I don't know what's weirder, locking your mom in your bedroom whilst you leave for the day or the fact that she didn't react when we busted the door down.
It was move-out day, and my roommate was working on a paper last minute. I was packing my stuff. His parents walked in and were absolutely livid that he wasn't packed yet. They immediately started scolding him while I was still in the room, but thankfully I had a final to go to and figured I'd dodge the storm. I said my goodbyes, assuming they'd be gone by the time I got back from my two-hour final, and went on my way.
As it happens, my final only took 20 minutes so I got back much sooner than they had expected. I opened the door, and immediately wished I hadn't. I saw my roommate bent over his bed with his bare behind showing just as his mom wound up for a spank, and closed it as quick as I could. I went over to a friend's dorm and helped her pack for a while until I felt safe enough to return. I never brought it up to him after that.
She was up all night. Until two in the morning at least. She was having full-on sobbing fights with her fiancé about hypothetical pink vests that he said he wouldn't wear for the wedding, even though she didn't actually want pink vests in the wedding. "Why wouldn't you wear the pink vests if I wanted you to?! No, I don't want pink vests, but if I did why wouldn't you wear them for me?!"
I had a roommate who had decided that he wanted to start eating food purely for nutritional purposes without any regard for taste or appearance. I opened the fridge a couple of days later to find that all the Tupperware containers were filled with this disgusting "food" that he made. It was basically a mashed-together mixture of frozen vegetables, oatmeal, eggs, and other random things that he had chucked together.
He didn't last very long on this diet and ended up throwing most of it away.
I knew one of my roommates was using my coffeemaker because the coffeepot would sometimes be really gross and stained, like someone had made tea in it or mixed something in with the coffee. One day, I came into the kitchen while it was happening. I asked if she was making tea, but she said no, it was coffee. So, I asked how she was making it, and that's when it got weird.
Apparently, she had no idea how to make coffee, and instead of asking someone or googling it, she decided to just wing it. She put the grounds and the water all right into the coffeepot and then turned it on. Basically, she made warm coffee ground soup. And she had done this multiple times, so she either didn't realize anything was wrong or she didn't hate it enough to stop.
Naturally, I showed her how to make actual coffee. I showed her where to pour the water ("I didn't know it opened!"), but when I got to where to put the grounds, she said it was too complicated for her and she'd just buy coffee on her way to work. So, it's not only that she didn't know how to make coffee but that learning how to make coffee was too complex, it was just easier to buy it.
I walked into the kitchen and caught my roommate standing there with no clothes on at all. She was washing her hair with my shampoo in the kitchen sink that was already packed full of dirty dishes. We had two showers and four bathroom sinks in our apartment. I still don’t understand why she didn’t just use one of the bathrooms.
I once had a roommate in a suite-style college dorm situation. After he learned I was an atheist, he would turn on Christian rock really loud and just leave. He would do it while I wasn't there, and he'd be gone all day. I hated that guy. He was the messiest person I've ever had to put up with, and he had three or four alarms around his room—with which I shared a wall—that would all start going off at 5 am.
He didn't leave until 7:30 am. He would just play snooze button whack-a-mole for two and a half hours, every morning. He didn't really speak to any of us for the first few weeks. He didn't have a name tag up, so none of us knew what to call him. Since he was in Unit D, I took to calling him "Darren." This was decidedly not his name.
By the end of the year, one of the others was still calling him Darren, just straight-up to his face. It was great.
I'm from a big football state in the Midwest with cold winters. I was a big football fan and my roommate at the time wasn't so much. I had two dogs, and he liked one a LOT more than the other. Anyway, I went to watch the game at a bar. It was an early morning game with a 10 am kickoff, and afterward, I went home to find my roommate laying in the snow with my dog.
He had smoked some weed and thought the dog needed to be cuddled when he was letting her out a few minutes prior. It was funny to see a skinny white guy in my Carhart work clothes holding my little spaniel—who really wanted to go back inside.
I had a roommate that lied about taking a shower. When I went into the bathroom one morning, there was water all over the floor around the shower and a pile of towels and clothes on the floor. I asked my roommate to clean it up, but she claimed someone broke in and left the mess around the shower, not her.
Barry was a corporate travel agent. That meant he worked for the company that employed us both, and this company had hundreds of salesmen that were flying all the time, so his full-time job was arranging their travel. I mean, he even had an airline ticket printer in his office. At that time, the late 80s/early 90s, that was incredibly rare to have in a non-travel-agency corporate office.
Barry was married. We lived in Las Vegas, but his wife lived in Phoenix. Barry's wife was a devout Mormon. Barry wasn't. She would not live in "Sin City" or "Lost Wages," etc. So, she would come up to Vegas every six weeks or so to check in with her husband. When his wife was out of town, Barry acted as if he were single.
Let me paint a picture: Barry drove a minivan. A minivan with a car seat in it. A white Dodge minivan with a car seat in it. And that man had so much game that he would score strippers on the night he met them. I know because I was there. Barry was, to me, an absolute legend. This married, fat, Jack-Nicholson-hairline dude would meet a Vegas stripper and take her home that night in a white Dodge minivan with a car seat in it.
After a while, Barry tired of the strippers, and began banging one of our co-workers, Jane. So, even though he knew his wife was keeping an eye on him, one Saturday morning at an ungodly time, the phone rings. I had a phone right next to my bed and so I answered it. "Is Barry there?" a female voice asked. "Who's this?" I asked.
"HIS WIFE!! WHAT OTHER WOMEN ARE CALLING TO ASK FOR BARRY?!" she screamed. So, I stumbled down the hall and pushed open his bedroom door without knocking. Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes, MY BAD. Only to find him pounding one out into his new girlfriend, our mutual co-worker. Remember, it was like 6 am on a Saturday. I was barely functioning.
The second most hilarious part of this was the look on Jane's face when I said, "Your wife is on the phone." Why the second most hilarious, you ask? Because the FIRST most hilarious Jane story is the Story of the Voice-Activated TV. So, about six months after the above story, I bought a new TV. This was Radio Shack's best 20" TV. Remember, this was like 1990-1991.
I'd installed it, got it all hooked up to cable, etc., when Jane showed up. "Oh, new TV!" she said. Barry said "Yeah, it's pretty cool. Actually, it's voice-activated." "WHAAA?" was Jane's response. Now, at the time, we had a three-cushion couch facing the TV. I was on the far-right cushion, and I had the remote in my hand, hung over the armrest, invisible to Jane.
And I knew Barry knew this, and I instantly grokked what he was doing. He turned to the TV and said, "Volume up!" and I hit the VOL UP button. The on-screen display showed the volume increasing. "Channel 11," he said, and I typed 1-1 on the remote, and Channel 11 showed. "Mute!" he said, and I hit the mute button. They left for a dinner reservation, so the hilarity ends.
Jane had a key to our apartment. Two days later, I came home to find Jane standing about 2 m (6 ft) away from the TV, screaming, "ON! ON! ON!" at it. I kind of giggled to myself, and then went over, found the TV remote, and handed it to her. My hand to God, this is what happened next: She looked at the remote in her hand, took a breath, and screamed "ON! ON!" at the remote.
Me and my six housemates moved into a pretty empty and secluded area in an old house. On Google Maps it was still labeled as a mental health institute. It was Christmas and all but one roommate was gone, and I had just arrived back. When I returned, I had walked to my room and the housemate intercepted me. He asked me if I knew if anyone else was back.
He said he heard sounds coming from the room downstairs. I laughed and said, "Nah man, must be the birds or something..." Then we both went silent as we heard running in my room on the other side of the door then running on the rooftops. I walked in and the window was wide open. We both just looked at each other and said, "Nope!"
We slept in the living room with the lights on for three whole nights.
I came home from work one night to find my two male roommates and my female roommate sitting on the floor of our living room facing the front door with the lights off. They were wearing hoodies with the hoods up and surrounded by apple-scented candles, chanting "Criss. Cross. Apple. Sauce." I believe I simply took this scene and went to my room, but I think I probably laughed.
I had my pet gerbil, Jose, out one day and I just really wanted to see the inside of his mouth. So, I gently took my finger and slid it under his front teeth, and propped his little jaw open. Jose just kind of sat there, showing off his little chompers while I glanced inside. That was when I heard my roommate behind me. When I looked in her direction, she promptly walked away, saying nothing.
She didn't really like my gerbils to begin with, and I have this feeling that her witnessing my having orally examined Jose didn't help my case.
My first roommate experience was in college, in a three-bedroom in an all-male dormitory. My roommates—let's call them Ken and Ben for no reason other than those are their real names—were making some bumping and knocking noises when I arrived back to the room late one evening. I opened the door to a totally dark room.
Because the hallway lights were broken, they didn’t know I had opened the door. "Marco," one said. "Polo," the other answered, as they shuffled around the room. This continued for a few minutes, until one of them walked right into the open door, which he couldn’t see. "Hi, guys," I said. They hated me before that, but really, really hated me afterward.
I woke up around 1 am and had to go to the bathroom. As I left my bedroom, I heard a weird rustling sound in the kitchen. I went to check it out and when I turned the corner, I found my roommate sleeping in our sink. I didn’t think I should wake her, and to this day I still don’t know why she was sleeping there.
I had one roommate in college who spoke in his sleep. One night, he was having a very vivid dream about having an almost too playful snowball fight with our calculus professor. It was strange, to say the least.
I came home to find my roommate spraying our clean dishes with raid to keep the bugs away. Not only did I find this to be a strange thing to be doing, but he was doing it at 3 am. Needless to say, I always washed the dishes before I used them after that.
My friend told me the most insane thing about his roommate in New York. The roommate would always bring home Chinese food every night and go up to his room. Like every night. He was kind of quiet and didn’t really socialize with the other roommates. One day my friend and the other roommates start to notice a smell in their apartment.
They took out the trash and ran the garbage disposal. Nothing seemed to be helping this smell. They finally decided to check out the quiet roommate’s room, as they suspected this was where the smell was coming from. So, when he wasn’t home, they went up the stairs and slowly opened the door to his room. What they found was shocking.
As they opened the door, they saw mountains of Chinese food take-out boxes stacked to the ceiling all around the bed. Hundreds of empty boxes everywhere. The smell was overwhelming as my friend stepped closer to the bed. His foot bumps into something, partially hidden by the take-out boxes. This is where it got weird.
My friend crouched down to get a closer look at what was under the bed. He cleared some take-out boxes out of the way and was taken aback by what he saw. A fully clothed, human-shaped, mass of noodles was shoved under this kid’s bed. What’s worse is that it looked liked the kid had been American Pie-ing it every night as there were some suspect stains on the noodle woman’s clothing.
I used to live in a very, VERY small studio apartment. Therefore, me and my roommate had our beds in the same area, really close to each other. The thing was he had a boyfriend and in order to give them some privacy, we made an agreement that I would go visit my family on weekends. I was in college back then and I was totally broke. My family wasn't really wealthy either.
Just before exam week, I was deeply depressed with my financial situation and I barely studied for my tests. I didn't have any money nor time to visit my relatives in another city, so I talked to my roommate, and he said it was okay with him if I stayed there for the weekend. I was really happy he understood my situation.
On that Saturday, because of how desperate I was, I decided to stay awake during the night to study for my exams. I NEEDED good scores. So, I took a seat in my bed, since we didn't have room for a desk, and used it as my study bench, just like I always did. However, it appeared that my roommate and I didn't really have the same definition of "being okay” with me staying home that weekend.
Out of nowhere, without any previous warning, they both arrived home and decided to do the unthinkable. Yup. They did the nasty right in front of me as if I wasn't there. It was 3 am, I couldn't go outside since it was a dangerous neighborhood, and I HAD to study. All I could do was try to ignore them and focus on my material, but holy they were loud.
My old "roommate," who was technically the homeowner but lived in a shack in the backyard, would come into my room early in the morning and watch me sleep. I was a bartender at the time so I would get home about an hour or so before he would be leaving for work. I was always thoroughly passed out when he'd leave and I'm a heavy sleeper. But here's where it gets even creepier.
I did not notice this was happening for MONTHS until a guy I was seeing stayed up and caught him opening my door. There was also a second door to my room that I could not open because it was locked from the other side. I don't know what was going on in there but I'm fairly certain he was spying on me from that room as well. He was a completely crazy person.
Prior to moving in, she called me to ask if she could draw pictures of bunnies on our wall. I said no. But alas, I moved into a room with bunnies drawn on the wall. After a few weeks of living together, I discovered she was doing a webcam show while I was in the background doing my chemistry homework! I ended up moving out shortly after because she was up all night on her webcam, and I couldn't sleep. But that wasn't even the worst of it.
I also once came home to her playing naked Twister in the living room with strangers. She also left used tampons around the apartment. That was the final straw for me.
My mom never told me how her best friend died. Years later, I was using her phone when I made an utterly chilling discovery.
Madame de Pompadour was the alluring chief mistress of King Louis XV, but few people know her dark history—or the chilling secret shared by her and Louis.
I tried to get my ex-wife served with divorce papers. I knew that she was going to take it badly, but I had no idea about the insane lengths she would go to just to get revenge and mess with my life.
Catherine of Aragon is now infamous as King Henry VIII’s rejected queen—but few people know her even darker history.
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