Roommate Wanted

Leighton Meester is on the cover of this February's NYLON magazine
promoting her new movie The Roommate out next weekend (February 4)





We've all had psycho roommates. Let me tell you about mine:

By the time I arrived in Los Angeles I was awake for approximately thirty-six hours. I was running on the energy provided to me from a few breath mints I consumed at least twelve hours before, and I was irritable to anyone within arm’s distance from me. This must be how Courtney Love feels on a regular basis.

I moved to attend art school, and I was thrilled to be getting out of the tiny valley I grew up in. I was excited about the culture, the art, the music, and the people in Los Angeles.  This would also be the first time I lived with someone else. I didn’t receive any notification of who my roommates would be before moving to LA, so keeping with the pace of so many other things in my life, it would be a surprise.

There was an orientation of sorts at my apartment building and in typical Connor fashion I arrived late. I walked in behind a chubby Mexican boy wearing a Jonas Brothers T shirt. I assumed he was somebody’s kid brother, or that he mistakenly walked into the apartment complex, attracted by the smell of food. Then I wondered if he was a student and he knew people would be making their first impression of him by what he was wearing, why would he choose a Jonas Brothers T shirt? If that was the first thing he wanted people to know about him, what other interests could he have?

As I reached to grab a registration number, I saw his hairy little hand reach too. Oh no. He was a student. In that moment I knew he would be my roommate, my karma is just too negative and this is how the dice always land in my life.

I was all over the place, physically and mentally, during the remainder of the apartment orientation and registration. I missed my call number so I was one of the last people to receive the key to my apartment. Everyone else was scrambling to find their new place and I just took the moment to let the animal herds subside while I took a nap by the pool.

When I awoke from my catnap, the elevators were free and I decided to bite the bullet and go find my apartment: 643. I was excited about living here. My apartment building was like a nice hotel. There were waterfalls and grand staircases, fountains, sculptures, and shrubbery. I had a giant smile on my face walking through the courtyards to my apartment. I found 643. This was it. I began fumbling with the key trying to open the door, but the lock was tricky.  Suddenly the door swung open, and the first thing I saw was a Jonas Brothers T shirt. I felt the smile fall off my face.

“Hi I’m Efrain.” I couldn’t tell if his lisp came from being Mexican or a homosexual.

I had to work really hard to remind myself that I was in no position to judge anyone. His family was in the room and I tried to make jokes to lighten the mood, but nobody laughed, and immediately after I spoke he and his family would communicate in Spanish. Too bad I ditched all my Spanish classes in high school or I would know what they were saying about me.

I was tired and clearly this little Mexican family wasn’t my audience. I threw my name down for a bed and decided I would come back some other day to meet the other roommates.

I came back the next day to meet the other two guys. I arrived at the apartment to find Greg. Greg was very tall, and very skinny. His body shape combined with his flamboyant mannerisms made him move like a giant spaghetti noodle. He brought a ton of stuff from where he lived in New York, and wasn’t shy about his worship for Lady Gaga and Britney Spears. He was very outgoing compared to Efran, which I liked, but I came to the conclusion I would have a lesser chance of being raped by someone who worshipped musicians who wore purity rings. 

Greg was bringing in boxes upon boxes of stuff for his room. He brought in books, a flatscreen TV, more shoes than I have ever seen, and a disco stick. Obviously his worship for Lady Gaga reached a higher level than I anticipated, he was serving at her altar. I didn’t know how to address the disco stick so I thought I would avoid doing so until absolutely necessary.

Efran started to hang up a few posters of the Jonas Brothers and of the werewolf from the movie Twilight, but I figured as long as they stayed in his space I had to be okay with it.  I was off to spend the weekend with my family and wanted to avoid these people as long as I could.

When I finally met my third roommate Brett I was hoping this would be the roommate that I would have some common ground with. Brett dressed similar to the way I do and he seemed to have a straighter demeanor than the rest of the guys I was meeting at school. He looked like he was the long lost brother from Malcom in the Middle. The first time I introduced myself to him he didn’t make eye contact, mumbled when he spoke, and as soon as he was done mumbling he walked away. Well fuck. Things were going…great.  

 After my family left I was thrilled to be living on my own in the city, until I remembered I wasn’t really living on my own. I had to face the music and go back to my apartment.  When I walked into my room the first thing I saw was a giant poster of the Jonas Brothers staring down at me from above the window. It startled me, and once I regained my footing I observed the mini-shrine that was growing while I was away. Gross. The creepiest thing was that all the posters would make eye contact with me and watch me wherever I moved in the room. But it was his thing, so I had to respect it.

I began unpacking my stuff and Brett walked into the kitchen so I started up a conversation.

“Have you seen these posters?” I asked him.

“What posters?”

“Get in here and look at what I have to wake up to every morning!” At this moment I just wanted someone else to confirm that what I was seeing wasn’t normal.

“Sweet Jesus.” He laughed. “This Efran kid is a fucking freak.”

“I’m starting to think so.” Finally, some verification that I wasn’t as shallow as I felt.

“Did Greg tell you what we heard him doing last night?” He asked me trying not to laugh.

“Do I even want to know?”

“We were in our room and all of the sudden we hear this heaving sound coming from your bathroom. There was music playing and water running but we still definitely heard him throwing up. We think he’s bulimic.

“Really?” I let out a little laugh. “Clearly, it’s not working.” Brett laughed. Good, we shared the same sick sense of humor. Brett and I started talking, and by talking I mean making fun of Efran. I later added Brett on facebook, and in most of his profile pictures he was intoxicated. I knew we were going to be friends.

Efreak came home and immediately parked his porky little ass in front of the TV. All my other roommates and I had trouble figuring out how to operate the multiple remotes but Efreak had no problems in turning the TV on and finding the Disney channel. Clearly he knew his way around a TV. Brett and I were talking in the kitchen when we heard Efreak hollering from the living area.

“OH MY GOD! I’m so excited!!” He let out a tiny squeal.

“For what?” Brett and I asked together.

“The new season of Hannah Montana starts next week! I thought I was going to miss it during the move!”

Brett and I looked at each other, equally confused. “Is he serious?”

            “Unfortunately I think so.”

Greg came home later and we all bonded over our disgust with Efreak. It made me feel better they turned out to be cool, however nothing would prepare me for my first night with the psychopath.

I was just about to close my eyes and go to sleep when Efreak opened his face and started talking to me. “So Connor, all my life I’ve fallen asleep with the TV on, and since we don’t have a TV I need to keep the radio on.” He said in a little mexi-gay accent.

“Are you kidding me?” No fucking way was I going to let that happen.

“No.  I really need it to fall asleep. Is that okay?”

“No.” I was waiting for him to ask me to check under his bed for monsters. I knew guys at my school would be pushing the feminine side, but I didn’t expect to be sharing a room with an eight-year-old girl.  I was hoping this would be the worst of it.

The next day Greg, Brett and I hung out at the apartment while Efreak was spending the day with his parents who were still in town. The three of us were all sitting on the furniture in the living area, talking and listening to music, and when Efreak opened the door the talking and music stopped, we all just watched him. As soon as he squeezed his little gorilla frame through the door he threw his sunglasses across the room and let out a grunt.

“Parents are so-WHATEVER!” He rolled his eyes and looked like he was about to cry. “You guys are lucky your parents are all gone.”

“No.” Greg, Brett and I exchanged glances. “We all like our families.”

Efreak retreated to his room, and the rest of us continued talking, having fun, and being normal without him. A few hours later he came out of the room holding a rifle.

“What the fuck!” I immediately stood up and assumed a kung-fu pose.

“Oh this is Jacob.” Efreak said like it was no big deal.

“Why the fuck do you have a gun?!”

“It’s not real silly, it’s from color guard.”

“What the hell is that?” After I asked, Efreak twirled the gun around in the air and did some tricks with it. I think I’d seen this before on some military advertisement. “Are there bullets?!” I asked frantically.

“No it’s just wooden.”

I proceeded to inform my resident advisor the next morning that my roommate hid weapons in our apartment, in hopes he would get evicted or better yet, deported.

My first attempt at getting Efreak deported was unsuccessful. I needed to work harder to get him out of my life and, more importantly, my room. Fortunately for me one of my other roommates drank from Efreak’s precious Mountain Dew supply. Any normal person would just address the issue and move on, but being a toddler in a tiara, Efreak chose to create World War III in our apartment.  It was almost too ridiculous to be real: there I sat on the sidelines, watching three princesses exchange verbal insults, all over a crappy soft drink.

“Fake ass bitches!”

“Mexi-cunt!”

“Plastic!”

“Fatty!”

After this little spat produced no results other than my amusement, Efreak went to the resident advisor to make a move request. And five days later, he was gone.  It turns out my karma wasn’t as bad as I thought; for putting up with three weeks of the little fiesta Efreak brought into my life, I was rewarded with my own room, and the cherry on top was not having to wake up to a Jonas Brothers poster ever again.