The Adventures of MDR

If you follow me on Twitter (which if you don’t, then you totally should be), you’d have already guessed from the title of this post that it’s about the charming young man I like to refer to as MDR, also known as “My Delightful Roommate” (or another “D” word if you prefer). If not, this should explain it and get you up to speed.

As you might have guessed from my tweets and a previous blog post, my roommate is pretty much awesome and has phenomenal taste in the men that he brings home from the bar. Especially on random Tuesday nights. He’s probably the best roommate I’ve ever had.

Oh who am I kidding? Other than my Roomdog, I tend to have a great track record with choosing only the cream of the crap to live with. Crap. I meant crop. Same thing. Don’t get me wrong…I love the kid to death, but living with him is a real treat. Where do I even begin? Continue reading

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True Life: My Former Best Friend is a Psychopathic Sociopath

I’d like to apologize in advance, but some people just need a harsh dose of reality…or a swift kick straight in the mangina. One such person is my former roommate and one of my closest friends who decided to pour our friendship down the drain like the bottle of gin he probably shouldn’t have consumed before scoring his second DUI. But really, there’s no hard feelings between the two of us, can’t you tell?

But really…where do I even begin? Perhaps at the beginning of our soon-to-be-trainwrecked friendship.

When I first moved to Lincoln back in June 2011, I was absolutely terrified to say the least. Not knowing a single person – no friends, no relatives, nobody at all – it was probably one of the biggest leaps of faithlessness I’ve ever made in my life. Stranded in the Midwest with no friends and not even knowing where the gay bar(s) were – if any at all.

Perhaps you’re wondering, “What did you do?” “How did you meet anyone?” “How did you become the Regina George of the Mean Girls or the Teresa Giudice of the Real Housewives of Lancaster County?” Simple. This bitch got on Grindr and networked his ass off (much like he did in Chicago).

I wasted no time making friends with the first non-shirtless guy around my age who had something other than a bathroom mirror selfie for a default pic. Rescuing me from an exciting evening of Netflix, sweatpants, and antisocial drinking, I was informed to be at a certain corner (typical) at a certain time. I would be meeting up with my new soon-to-be-made friend and his friends who would become my new friends. Continue reading

Roomies, Roomdogs, and Roommates from Hell

Roommates and I are like Goldilocks and the Three Bears. It’s always either one extreme or the other, however some are just perfect. When it comes to roommates, I’ve experienced about everything there is to offer. Good roommates, bad roommates, and everything in between.

Growing up, I shared a room with my sister for over seven years – welcome to having a two-bedroom home with two children – until we finally put on an addition, so sharing a room was something I was somewhat experienced with already when I went away to college. My roommate freshman year and I couldn’t be more different, yet we got along great. A communications major at the time, I was the social butterfly. He, on the other hand, was an engineering major who wanted to design roller coasters. Super cool, but always studying. Perhaps I should have paid more attention to him, and I wouldn’t have nearly failed out my sophomore year. But that’s beside the point. We got along great, even though we never really hung out much outside of our dorm room…partially because we were both slightly obsessive compulsive when it came to keeping our room clean.

Fast forward to sophomore year. I moved into a three bedroom apartment with three of my friends from freshman year. Since I was staying in the city to work for the summer, I got to enjoy having the place to myself for the summer. Needless to say, when they moved in, I lasted all of about three months before I decided to head for the hills – well, downtown rather – and go back to living on my own.  Continue reading