Posted on 08/19/2005 5:26:23 AM PDT by Rebelbase
Disgusting slobs. Crude deviants. Lazy perverts.
Animals that wake up at noon, eat cold pizza for breakfast and drink beer for lunch.
I am speaking of course of the young single male.
Most people believe we couldn't clean a dish if our lives depended on it and that we run from a vacuum cleaner like a dog running from, well, a vacuum cleaner.
Unfortunately, I've discovered that many of these rumors are true. Most single men are filthy pigs.
I knew at a very young age that I was going to move out on my own as soon as I turned 18. For some reason, I was always desperate to make things harder for myself.
"Why live comfortably," I said, "when I can be poor and struggle?"
My obsession with having my own digs landed me with some very dirty and irresponsible roommates.
The Oscar Madison Award, however, goes to my first roommate, Chris. I moved in with Chris the day after I turned 18. He was 24, and I was sure because of his older age he would be dependable, clean and a magnet for chicks.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
The warning signs were there before we signed the lease; I was just too dumb and excited to see them. The back seat of the beat-up jalopy he called a car was filled with garbage. It looked like a Wendy's dumpster.
His room — in his parents' basement — was also a landfill, and a bulletin board on his wall contained a list of 12 debts, including Sears and Visa.
Despite all the signals, I decided to split half the rent and utilities with Bluto, the roommate from hell.
Soon after we settled in, our brand-new bachelor pad became a Code Red demilitarized zone. Ten maids working around the clock wouldn't be able to keep up with the mess this kid could dish out.
The house constantly reeked of cigarette smoke and mold. The bathroom sink was always full of facial hair or cigarette ashes. The tub was so disgusting I felt cleaner not taking a shower.
I won't even talk about the toilet.
Cherry Kool-Aid stains saturated the carpets with huge-red puddles. Anybody who walked into our living room must have thought he had stumbled onto the scene of an accident.
Anytime I needed to use a dish, I had to fish one out from under his bed and wash a bunch of rotted food off of it. But before I could do that, I had to clear away all the cans, bottles and cigarettes that were piled high in the kitchen sink.
Philip Morris and Anheuser-Busch should consider naming wings after this guy. Trust me, it's no coincidence chimney, cheap beer and Chris all start with C's.
Chris' partner-in-slime was his dog, a 20-pound furniture wrecking and security-deposit-eliminating machine. It tried to bite everyone who came into our apartment and scratched every door, wall and floor.
The last straw came early one morning as I woke up for work. Groggy-eyed, I walked downstairs to find a paper towel soaked with some sort of green and brown liquid lying in the middle of the living room floor.
I ran upstairs, pounded on Chris' door and demanded to know what happened. He said his dog threw up the night before, but he was too tired and drunk to clean it up and would deal with it later.
I was so mad I threw a chair against the wall, breaking it into half-a-dozen pieces, and told him to get downstairs and clean up the mess. Reluctantly, he did so, but as he washed the soiled rug, he sighed as if I had asked him to scrub the latrine with his toothbrush.
The following day, I went on a vacation to Boston, but before I left I warned Chris to clean the apartment before I got back or I was going to look for another roommate.
A week later, I returned to an empty house. Chris scampered off, never to return, leaving behind a few beer cans, a bunch of already-smoked cigarettes and an apartment full of dog hair.
He also saddled me with his half of the remaining rent and utilities and the bill for the damage caused by his dog.
Suddenly, living at home with the folks didn't look that bad.
This is amazing ping.
On the one hand, the title is obviously just trying to draw more attention to what is more accurately, "I had a roommate who was a pig."
On the other hand, it does seem that single, young men at least go through a phase of trying to see how slovenly they can be. It appears to be a rebellion/get even thing, "I can TOO be a pig ... just watch!"
My (future) husband's justification for the unspeakable state of his apartment was that he'd had to keep things clean when he lived on the Air Force base. He grew out of it, thank God.
Oh...thought they he was talking about my ex-wife...my bad...LOL
Well, when he goes looking for a mate, he'd better remember the lessons. I'd bet the bill for the repairs was a lot cheaper than a divorce lawyer....
If modern young men are pigs, modern young women are troughs.
I had a room mate who wasn't really a slob, but he always ate my food.
"Disgusting slobs. Crude deviants. Lazy perverts"
You rang? I'm back from moderator-induced temporary exile.
That...is funny. My guys were intractable slobs! I gave up entering their rooms until they left. Then I tore them up and remodeled.
Funny thing happened on the way to adulthood though. They bought their own places, furnished them beautifully, remodeled, painted, and keep their homes neat as pins.
Guess the moral is this, if you pay for it, you are much more apt to take care of it!
PS-We were a USAF family, too! (Talk about those hangers in hubby's closet that had to be 1/4 apart with all the buttons facing the same way!)
LOL!!
Unfortunately, I've discovered that many of these rumors are true. Most single men are filthy pigs.
LOL! We bought a house from a Korean War vet who'd been the Army *forever* before he retired. All the racks in the closets were labeled: Long-sleeve shirts, Short-sleeve shirts, Old Work Shirts, Church pants, etc.
"If modern young men are pigs, modern young women are troughs."
I agree, a certain percentage are. The proof, the dimbulb males and females who willingly participate in the "Girls Gone Wild" videos.
The lowest base of human intelligence(lack of)
I am NOT LAZY! ;-P
"(Talk about those hangers in hubby's closet that had to be 1/4 inch apart with all the buttons facing the same way!)"
What's weird about that?!!! Doesn't take any longer. I have few fetishes but my shirts all face the same way in the closet and my money is always folded with the faces right-side up and facing out, by denomination. Same way they came from the bank.
I used to work in a residence hall at a University. Prior to extended breaks we had to do a walk thru in the rooms to ensure that no "fire hazards" existed. I couldn't believe state of some of the guys rooms! One suite in particular had a stopped up toilet, both sinks plugged, the shower plugged, both rooms had a sticky film on the floor that I couldn't identify, etc. I was in awe that someone could live in such a sloven state.
Oh, please, I know plenty of women who are worse than the slob described in the article - and I dated a couple!
It's more a cultural and youth thing than just young guys. I ran a dorm building in college, and mess was in both sex's areas! (Especially the women's bathrooms)
I went through the same thing - once out on my own, and free of the "clean your room/kitchen/garage" orders from the parents, I enjoyed being able to do what I wanted - to a point. Then I got tired of the mess, and realized a little cleaning a little at a time kept things tidy enough.
The moral of this article should be "choose your roomates wisely", not "all guys are pigs". Most people I know, myself included, have "roomate from hell" stories, and that the best way to kill a friendship is to move in with them!
Men who kiss up to feminist dogma usually are hoping to get laid. It seldom works for obvious reasons.
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