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!!!

My Inner Self, and Pete Cassani's Beautiful Whaling Guitar

So tonight I was in Harvard Square, waiting to square off against my newest psycho roommate, soon to be gone bye-bye, not wanting to see him at all but needing to get it over with so I can move on with my life. Finally the guy arrives. I present my case for a deduction in his refund, due to all the crap he pulled in the one short week he stayed at my house, and in the background I can hear Pete Cassani's beautiful guitar. As we begin to wind things up, the volume goes up and up over in the Pit. I assume the monitor has long gone, since it is quite close to midnight. Pete is playing lead guitar to Roger Nicholson's rhythm guitar. Roger has been singing some songs, Pete has been taking the solos. As I say good-bye to my now ex-roommate, alcoholic and unpleasantly unpredictable and young and irresponsible and quite wealthy and no doubt carrying a very sad story in his soul, Pete's guitar solo starts to REALLY soar.

I feel relieved that this most recent saga is over. I LISTENED to my inner self quite QUICKLY for a change. She was REALLY freaking out about this guy, almost the minute he arrived from Germany. My outer self, who represents insane socialization to be blindly "nice" and "understanding" without regard to my own needs and safety, and a long history of being lied to for the sake of other's needs and addictions, was confused. "But he doesn't seem THAT bad? What's the big deal?"

My inner self would have NONE of it and would not let me sleep more than 4 hours a night for the first few days of his arrival. She was virtually SCREAMING at me inside my head, "GET RID OF HIM, NOW!!!"

The most amazing thing is that I am sure she realized almost immediately that he is a totally messed up alcoholic, whereas my lied to socialized self only fully realized it tonight, after one week, when I saw him in front of me, half drunk as I discussed the problems he had caused in one short week. And I realized that he had probably been drunk almost every night, since he arrived late and fumbling and loud from a night out with friends, 5 nights out of the 7 he had been at my house.

I felt like Pete's guitar playing was giving me courage, and I just spoke up clearly and firmly. The soon to be ex-roommate agreed to the various deductions in his refund, gave me the keys and finally we were done!

As I walked to my bike, I swear, Pete's guitar was flying to the heavens. I don't know if I have ever heard him play so beautifully. It was just Pete, the volume cranked up, and this amazingly gorgeous waterfall of music cascading through most of Harvard Square, showering everyone with incandescent stardust, love and JOY!!!

Thanks for the help Pete! I had forgotten how beautifully you play. And how healing, powerful music can be. Pure magic.

Saturday Night Impressions, Harvard Square Again

Roger Nicholson again playing his sad songs, this time in the Pit. People sit and listen, and actually applaud. As the night wears on it gets crazy (I leave and then come back again later). A group of shirtless drunken frat boys are yelping and shouting. There is a full moon, so maybe that explains it. But actually Roger has fewer problems with this insanity than some rockers I know. I believe this may be due to the low-key plaintive nature of his music...but Roger claims its because he "has done this a lot" and knows how to handle people.

Peter the automaton guitarist has his sound turned up WAAAYY past 80 db. Where is that monitor when you need them? Roger says he plans to play in the Pit a lot more often, which no doubt means Peter will be blasting his music a lot more often too. And as I have said before, I really HATE Peter's automaton playing. Thankfully, I'm not the only one. The other day, a guy was yelling out "YOU SUCK!!! PLAY SOMETHING DIFFERENT FOR ONCE!" I went to talk to the guy and no, he wasn't drunk. He was trying to do some work on his computer and he just hates the automaton guitar stuff too.

I chat with a couple. She is second generation Pakistani from Ontario, Canada, and he is a blond, sharp-eyed MIT researcher from Australia. They seem nice together, affectionate and respectful. I think maybe a pretty good couple, for once. But...they love the Ryan Adams song about "screw all my friends behind my back, with a smile on your face" and look lovingly at one another as Roger sings it. It occurs to me, "Maybe this will be their First Dance song at the wedding?" That would be hilarious!

Several students next to me are talking loudly. "Well, she said it was the BEST SEX she ever had!" The Ontario woman, a young researcher, throws a piercing glance their way, and suddenly they are completely befuddled. I am impressed by that piercing glance. I'm going to practice it. And use it whenever appropriate.

Once again, I don't like my new roommate. What else is new. I accepted him sight unseen, in the middle of dealing with a sick cat and another roommate I absolutely hated. This guy too is German, and he speaks in such a clipped aggressive way. I KNOW all Germans don't speak this way, do they? I mean, Heidi Klum doesn't speak in such a clipped aggressive manner, although maybe she does, in German.

Because I don't like him I didn't sleep so well, which puts me in not the best mood, and I hate that. So I guess I will kick him out, sooner than I thought. Boring boring boring.

I went to Singing Beach again, and it was SO foggy that the fog was blowing in off the water like clouds across a mountain. It was SO BEAUTIFUL!!! But not too warm. So after an hour I went to check out the arts fair in Manchester. One Man, B.Art (Bart) from Gloucester makes the most AMAZING and fun sculptures. Funny creatures, all of whom seem to be dancing, which makes sense, since he was a dancer and choreographer in another chapter of his life. If I had $350 to spare I would definitely buy one. A REAL artist, pretty hard to find these days.

Good night!!! I need to win the lottery!!! Come on people!!! Send me some numbers!!! I will accept them in my sleep!

Saturday Night In Harvard Square

Roger Nicholson is playing his sad love songs. At about 9 p.m. I am the only one clapping. People are hot, and as usual, not very enthusiastic. WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE HERE??? WTF??? Are they all on mind-numbing anti-depressants? Man, I really do not know what happened to the JOY in this area. Maybe Harvard is a secret soul-sucking Vampire-type institution. Maybe.

But I left at about 10 to go home and deal with my psycho roommate (Is there any other kind, especially when they are male, MIT researchers, and German?). He leaves on Sunday YAYAYAY!!! His girlfriend was present (here for a visit) so no confrontation at all. He is really a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde creep. When he first moved in a few months ago, I kept dropping things whenever he was around. I knew it was my inner self warning me to get rid of him. And she was right. I managed to avoid him almost entirely for 3.5 months. When I didn't he turned into a real prick.

So on to the next psycho? I am getting reaaallllly tired of this crap.

But back to Harvard Square. So I returned after eating a cheese and olive omelette and dealing with my roommate. This time a few people actually CLAPPED for Roger. Maybe because he had the sound turned up pretty darn high. Ha ha!!! Take THAT Cambridge Arts Council Monitor, who surely left by 11 p.m.

A young-ish Italian guy near me was checking out all the women. It was actually kind of nice to see, since so many Harvard Square guys seemed positively neutered. That, or gross frat boy types who make my skin crawl.

Speaking of which, a few days ago I was walking from the Concord train station to Walden Pond. Finally got into the last stretch, walking up the hill, only 5 minutes til park property. Coming down the hill were a group of six junior frat boys. Junior as in high school jocks. Normally I ignore this type of little brat. But I was hot, sweaty and annoyed so when they looked at me, I just stared back at them defiantly.

As soon as they passed me, they all started making weird animal noises. Sounded like rutting antelopes, except I have no idea what rutting antelopes sound like. I figured it was the heat and the hormones. I never did like jocks and frat boys. No subtlety whatsoever. I went for a ride with a frat football player when I was 14 (he was 16) and I swear if I hadn't been strong enough to fight him off, things would have ended very badly. Ugh ugh ugh ugh. Not sure why I went for a drive, oh yeah. He was a neighbor from across the street. It was summer, he had a convertible, and I was bored, young and curious. Ugh ugh ugh ugh.

Back to Harvard Square. So Sam the mandolin player yelled hello to me. But I didn't want to talk with him because yesterday he might have been high and started explaining to me about the Russian mob in Harvard Square (maybe that explains Peter the robotic guitar player!) and the corrupt police and on and on. I was tired and wanted to just go home, so I finally cut him off.

A week or so ago, Sam came up, glowing and sweating, eyes dilated. "Hey, since I saw you an hour ago, I dropped acid!" I haven't heard anyone say something like that in years. I said, "Hmm... That's not too good, Sam." But he waved his arms as if to fly. "No! It's beeeyoootiful!!!" I walked on. Sam did a dance. I crossed my fingers that the police would not arrest him. Again.

But flying reminds me...on July 4th I went to Singing Beach in Manchester, and as the train approached the station, I saw three people falling out of the sky. Literally. Except they were attached to wings and had motors on their feet. Sky divers. It was pretty cool, especially since I first thought they were kites or birds, and only gradually realized these were three humans with wings and motors on their feet!

Yes I know, this is scattered. No doubt I have ADHD like my new favorite young cute soap star, Finn Wittrock, who plays Damon on AMC. I don't think any of the old-timers like his storyline. I might be the only one, but I just started to watch AMC (actually via youtube, so I can just watch his storyline) a couple of months ago, and some of the old timers have been watching for 30 years!!!

Anyway, Damon is a troubled youth who is really smart and snarky (also Finn is a very good actor) and is falling in love with his girlfriend's smart snarky lawyer Mom, sexy Liza. It is a pretty HOT storyline. I can't figure out why so many of the old-timers hate it. OK, there is a history there. It seems Liza's Mom slept with Liza's boyfriend back in the day. But I think that was a different scenario, since Liza's Mom Marian was pretty much a sex fiend. Whereas Damon and Liza actually seem to like one another.

As I've said before, I would LOVE to be a soap opera writer. Characters bury people alive, steal babies, cheat and lie and con each other incessantly. It's so GREAT!!!

OK, Harvard Square. Last vignette. So I went to buy a small ice cream at JP Licks. I don't really like ice cream that much, but when it is really hot in the summer time, I might have a small cone once or twice. This was my second visit this year.

The guy who served me last time was there, and he was really hyped up. I realized I like him, just liked his vibe. He reminds me of someone I knew a few years ago in Montreal. He and I and the girl serving me started having a pretty incoherent conversation, and laughing a lot and no one knew quite why, and none of us were stoned! Maybe the proximity to so much sugar? Who cares? It was FUN!!!