I am not cut out for dorm life.

Gripe number one: the whole roommate idea. Let's stick you with a person you don't know at all after you've been on your own for, oh, eighteen(that's almost two decades people) years and you have no say in who it is or what their habits, sleeping, hygeine, music-listening or otherwise, may be. This is especially cruel and unusual punishment for those of us who didn't have to grow up with siblings. I mean, yeah, if you get along with your roommate, thats wonderful. You may have just found yourself a friend for life. You're really lucky. If not? Then you're stuck for a year with a person you don't like with a space roughly the size of the palm of someone's hand. Don't get me wrong. The new roommate still has yet to do anything to get on my bad side. However, she IS starting to ask a lot of questions. "Do you go out a lot?" "What do you do on the days you don't have classes?" Listen woman. Do you just want me to come out and say I'm a loser with no life and I never leave my computer? Because I will. I AM AN ANTISOCIAL REJECT. ENOUGH WITH THE THIRD DEGREE, alright? Damn. Now let me get back to my Alias DVD's while you go hang out with the numerous friends you have.

Gripe two: the bathrooms. You all know I'm a total public restroom phobe, right? So this gripe is big enough to break into two different subsections.

a)The toilets

I will never be comfortable with the fact I'm putting my giblets anywhere near where these other people have. Ever. Infinity. If I didn't need water to survive, I'd stop drinking so I wouldn't have to go to the bathroom anymore. The other day I went in there and discovered to my horror that the seat I was about to sit on was wet. The fuck? Are you fucking kidding me with this?! I mean...WHGT! JGTH! HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?!?!?! On second thought, does anyone want to know? Damn. Friggin ran out of that room. When it comes to my bladder exploding from not going to the bathroom or sitting on an inexplicably wet toilet seat? I'm gonna go with the explosion. Any day of the week.

b)the shower

Apparantly, us girls hack up some major chunks of hair because the drain is clogged. Always. Infinity. And the setup of the showers has caused me to become a yeti. Allow me to explain. I shave my legs as often as the next girl. If not more because I love my Venus� razor and cucumber-melon scented shave gel. But in these showers, there's nowhere to put your leg so you can see what you're doing. It requires a balancing act worth of Barnum & Bailey. And the acrobatic feats required to get to the back of my leg? Heh. Well, I'm pretty sure it's illegal in some Taliban-run countries. Plus there's so little light in there that I come out to find I've missed so many spots I mine as well have not shaved at all.

Hey, I know I complain about roommates and bathrooms a lot. Always. Infinity. But life has been going really good lately(there are four men I'm in love with already this semester, three who aren't a certain Latin teacher that will be graduating in May) and I've got nothing to write about. Except moist toilet seats. Eww.

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