Everyone has a roommate story

How Many Classes Are You Going To Fail This Semester?

My freshman year roommate was a monster. I don't mean he was mean. He was fat and he smelled. If the pillsbury dough boy smelled like arm-pits instead of muffins, and shopped at Hot Topic you'd have Greg (name changed), my old roommate. Somewhere inside of Greg was a good guy, but he was inconsiderate and in no way ready to live away from home.

Around mid-terms of our first semester Greg realized that he had missed too many classes and tests to pass anything. He spoke with his advisor and they decided the best course of action would be for him to take a leave of absence. This meant he wouldn't get any credits and it wouldn't affect his GPA. I was happy because it meant he would leave school and I'd have the room to myself for half a semester. At least, that's what should have happened.

Fearing backlash and disappointment, Greg decided not tell his parents that he used their tuition money to sleep and play Magic: the Gathering. The school forgot to kick him off campus, too. I spent the rest of the semester with a roommate who slept from 10 am to 8 pm and watched anime and played video games during the hours when a normal human being (me) would be sleeping. My dislike for him grew steadily as time went by. I made a point not to even speak to him for the majority of the second semester.

Greg didn't come back to school for his sophomore year. As far as I know he dropped out to train to be a cop, like his dad. I don't know how people that out of shape can pass a fitness test so I'm not sure what actually ended up happening to him.

I mention Greg now because he seems to keep popping up in the CollegeHumor Quiz column I write. At least he was good for something.

It was true that I could tell if he was in the room or not before I opened the door by the smell.