I have several “Rules of Life.”  My friend came up with his own list.  It only has one rule: Don’t live with me.  He figured out that living with me made people become a-holes.  It was as inevitable as the tides.

My first roommate wasn’t so bad.  He was a slob, sure, but for the most part okay.  I don’t think he ever went to class.  And he did make me sleep next door once for a few days so he could engage in adult activities with his girlfriend.

My second roommate was a complete slob.  I joke about finding him asleep with pizza attached to his belly…it might not be a joke.  But every now and then he would get a hankering to clean and with my prodding would fill multiple hefty bags.

My third roommate?  Total psycho.  He was a bassist in a bar band.  He practiced.  He also got mad at me once for “spoiling” a movie.  I said EVERYONE dies in Unforgiven, even the dog.  There was no dog.  Lots of people live.  But he threw a punch in my face.  Not cool.

After that, I had some pretty decent roommates.  One of them chewed though, and for the life of me, I haven’t figured out why they do this, but he collected spitoons.  Our room was full of “recycled” coke bottles, semi-full of chaw.  Ugh.

For my own part, I was a vindictive SOB.  I actually took vengeance one time by letting the gang get to the final boss of Street Fighter and then cut the power.  My friend didn’t talk to me for weeks.  I was in the right, but that was very uncool of me.