also, halls
although the majority of neighbours i shared my kitchen with in halls were lovely, brilliant people, there is a law that dictates you must have a freak.

he was a short, fat, hairy, smelly french bloke who cooked foul smelling 'food' and made every attempt possible to shag my room mate, who was having NONE of it, thank god. If a personal, drunken conversation between to women (say, getting a belly, or who's got smaller breasts) was going on in the kitchen, a small gap in his wall allowed him to hear it and run in in the hope of catching lesbo action. He had no concept of personal space and crowded you with his smelliness at every opportunity, displayed worrying psychotic tendencies, scrubbed every surface of his room on the first day in it, kept trying to get my roomie to pose naked for him (after screaming in her face about something else)...

course, he doesn't know we got hyper and tiddly once whilst he was off 'visiting his mother' (probably kept her in the basement and borrowed her dresses) and broke into his room via a death-defying roof scramble six floors up. And found the most frightening lack of personality. Nothing in it, just a locked cabinet, an empty set of shelves with a gonk on it, and a large box full of condoms. as if anyone would shag that. (there's another story there...too long though)

he was my natural enemy and i will always treasure that pure, fierce hatred i had for him, as i've never encountered it before or since. It's quite cleansing you know.

(someone will now know who i am. good. hello!)
(niceandwarmandhot vive la résistance, Thu 25 Aug 2005, 16:26, Reply)