Psycho Roommate Questionnaire

Over the years, I have had PLENTY of experiences with roommates, good and bad. Due to some recent unpleasant experiences, as well as a few painful old ones, I am now concluding that a VERY detailed questionnaire is probably in order when interviewing potential roommates, particularly to rule out psychos, exhibitionists, thieves and other criminals and scary people. Here is part one of my first draft:

1. Do you plan to walk around in your underwear or worse, nude, within the first 24 hours of moving in?
2. Do you have a tendency to stare fixedly at boxes of tea whilst holding them in the air, for, say, 5 minutes or more, while mumbling to yourself?
3. Do you have a tendency to leave the bathroom door unlocked and then laugh demonically if your roommate walks in, unawares?
4. When you pack up to move out, do you plan to also pack half my stuff in those boxes and take it with you as well?
5. Do you plan to remove all my furniture from the living room while I am at the grocery store, store it in the storage area, and replace it with all YOUR furniture?
6. Do you plan to come to my door in the middle of the night while I am sleeping and knock softly on my door, because, after all, I am a woman and you are "a man"? And to do so on the very first night?
7. If you have a problem--say, the internet is a little slow one day-- do you plan to run down the hall screaming at me at the top of your lungs?
8. If you have a fight with your girlfriend, do you plan to come home and rub perfume on my cats, in an effort to make them ill?
9. When I object to this practice, do you plan to threaten to throw them off the balcony?
10. When I call the police about this, do you then plan to leave a large note taped to the lid of the toilet, "Let the games begin"?


OK, you may have gotten the sense that most of these psycho cases are male, and if you have, you are right. But the thief, furniture remover and screamer were all women. So it's about 75% lunatic males and 25% lunatic females. I'd say that's a pretty accurate representation of real life statistics, wouldn't you?

I plan to write more on this entertaining topic at a later date. But right now I need to sleep, since my most recent psycho roommate (#1 on the list, who paraded around in his underwear on his very first night, and YES I did tell him NEVER EVER to do that again, or he will be out on his ass) kept me awake, wondering if he planned to knock on my door stark-naked in the middle of the night. Something like that weirdo who showed up at my hammock in the Palapas at midnight in Mexico, eyes all aglow and completely naked. What did he think I would do? Jump his bones? I just asked, in a very annoyed and bored voice, "Yeah? Waddya want?" The crazy guy stood there expectantly. Couldn't I see he had what it takes? I yawned, "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep. Go away." He was shocked at my apparent immunity to his charms, but he left. Thank goddess. GOOD NIGHT!!!

Dreading the Holidays

I know I'm not supposed to say this, but honestly, the period of time between now and January 2nd is just not something I EVER look forward to.

Let's see, first we have Thanksgiving. Well, Native Americans mark this with a Day of Mourning. That makes sense to me. Not only from the perspective of the horrible genocide Native Americans experienced at the hands of Europeans, but also because so many people dread, I mean DREAD, with fear and trepidation, the yearly trip to the family.

I tried, one year, to participate in the Day of Mourning at Plymouth, MA. I didn't feel really welcome. I probably have some Native American blood (two of my ancestors arrived in this country in 1732 and fought in the Revolutionary War, so I figure my blood is pretty mixed), but honestly I'm 90% non-NA. So I understood. A little like having men at a feminist support group.

I figure this might be the second year in a row that I just call off the holiday, in terms of spending time with any relatives. That helps, sort of. But one is left with a lot of sadness to deal with. Maybe I could just go on a bender for the next few days, and again around December 25th. Oh wait, I don't drink or do drugs. Darn.

Then, we get to Christmas. Well, aside from the fact that I am not Christian, but closer to a nature-loving Pagan, I also get really nauseous with the Buy Buy Buy money orgy of the season. I even wrote a song about it once. It's called "Buy Buy Buy"!!! I think most of the buying is really a bribe to that terrifying family. "Here, Uncle Joe, look at the great IPod I bought you! PLEASE don't get drunk this year and scream at everyone and knock over the Christmas tree like you did last year, OK?"

Or, "Here Mom, look at the beautiful sweater I bought you. Now, can you PLEASE not give me the third degree about my love life and remind me that I SHOULD be married to a doctor with a brood of snot-nosed kids by now, like you do every year?"

Oh, and never mind all the treacherous memories just lurking under the surface, like some blood-thirsty shark just waiting to attack. OK, I know sharks aren't really like that--Humans just aren't very tasty--but memories ARE!

Maybe the best Christmas I ever had was one year when I went to Mexico with my friend Wade. He wasn't really happy about it once we got there, because Wade is gay (or he was then--when I first met him he was straight, so I'm not sure where he's at these days). Wade found Playa del Carmen overwhelmingly straight and macho. He just didn't realize that some of the extreme machos were in the closet waiting for a lovely man like Wade to open the door. Patience is required.

For me, it was simpler. I'm pretty gorgeous, if I do say so myself. Also smart. I speak a little Spanish, and I love to dance. On top of that, I'm from a Rich Country, which means that I MUST be rich, right? Even if we were sleeping in hammocks at the Palapas Hostel on the beach, surely we had plenty of money back home. (nope, but hey, I was on vacation, in a foreign country, so I guess in some way that DID make me rich) So I had lots of attention from some very pretty boys. It was quite fun, for awhile.

Oh, poop. Even reminiscing about my Mexican adventures isn't helping. Maybe it's time to take up drinking.