When my roommate and I first moved into our dorm, our suitemates (hereafter referred to as Dickhead and Dipshit) came over and introduced themselves to us. I thought that was a rather friendly thing to do, so assumed they were friendly people, and so thought that maybe living next door to someone I had never met might not be so bad. I was terribly, terribly mistaken. There are dozens of reasons to hate these guys, but some of them can only be understood in the context of someone who is actually living next door to them, so I will concentrate on the main reasons that anyone can appreciate.

The first time I thought that something may be amiss was when I learned of their love of song. More specifically, their love of singing along, in a loud falsetto, to She Works Hard For The Money by Donna Summer. This is not exactly a favorite song of mine anyway, but it is made worse by their insistence on turning up the volume so that we next door could hear the song clearly and singing their little hearts out. This torture would not end until Summer had sang her last sour note, and by that time my roommate and I were seriously pained, our ears ringing from the auditory assault to which they had been subjected. When they would choose, rarely, to sing along to Stairway To Heaven, it wasn�t quite so bad, since they did not feel the need to raise their voices to a high-pitched squeal to match that of Robert Plant, but their poor singing skills were bad enough that it was a weak respite.

Even worse than the singing, by far, was the constant homoeroticism. I am not kidding. When we first heard the dumbasses banging around in their room, grunting and gasping, we weren�t quite sure what to think. �Are they wrestling?� my roommate asked, incredulous. My only response: �I hope so.� As if that weren�t enough to cause us to question our suitemates� sexuality, there was another thing that seemed worse than the hypothesized Sweaty Butt Sex �. Our suitemates feel the need to shower several times daily, possibly to freshen up after their Sweaty Butt Sex. While one is showering, the other will often �check up on him,� coming into the bathroom and talking to him. I suppose that talking to someone while he�s in the shower isn�t that odd, but when seen in the light of the previously mentioned homoeroticism, it seems rather�strange. Little surprise, then, that my roommate asked a specifically hilarious question one day. I had gone into the bathroom and closed the door to their room, which they keep open for some reason. My roommate, noting that I had observed into their room, asked �Were they teabagging each other?� It would have been less funny if this weren�t such a valid question.

The thing that pissed me off the most during the first semester, however, was an episode we like to call �The Drunk Chick In Our Bathroom.� I believe it was a Saturday night, around 1 AM, when we first heard a vomiting sound in our bathroom. This continued long into the night, until, around 3 AM, they sent the drunk chick on her way. Now, perhaps I�m being a might hasty. After all, the girl sprawled upon our bathroom floor hurling violently into our toilet may not have been drunk. Perhaps she had a nasty stomach virus. Or perhaps she just couldn�t hold her liquor. In any case, had I wanted to go to bed, or even use our bathroom, I would have been royally pissed.

When we returned from Christmas Break, we found that Dickhead had left and gotten an apartment. We were in high hopes, until we met his replacement, a guy I will refer to as Dumbfuck. Not only was he completely stoned the first time we met him, but he, like his predecessor, is also quite interested in Sweaty Butt Sex, if the sounds from next door are any indication. I live in constant fear of walking into the bathroom and seeing Sweaty Butt Sex occurring, and can you blame me? The only plus side is that they clean the bathroom all the time. My roommate and I have yet to clean the bathroom since the beginning of school. If we wait long enough, our suitemates will do it for us. I consider this to be payment.