People are Sick!

Have you ever had that one defining moment in your life that clearly and firmly lowers your opinion of the human species? I've had several, but none so powerful or so disturbing as the one I'm about to share. This is not a story for the weak of heart (or stomach). Continue reading with caution, you have been warned.

Shortly after college I was stuck looking for a roommate. Now, as many of you know, this is worse than looking for a date. You end up with a friend of a friend of a friend that you meet and realize that a lot of those that people call friends are just drinking partners from whom they can't find a way to escape. Needless to say, I'm not friends with that person anymore.

So I get a new roommate, let's call him Scott (because that was his name). Scott was, and I put this kindly, not attractive. This unattractiveness was due in large part to his uncleanness. He looked like a cross between Drew Carey and Conan O'Brien; a red-headed porker with oily skin and a stink. Better yet, picture fat bastard with a little less weight and a central New York accent. He also had unspeakable foul habits. On top of these issues, he never seemed to have his rent or bill money on time. Ultimately the bastard ended up owing me about $600. If I thought I could track him down and beat the money (plus interest) out of him without catching a communicable disease I would stop typing and going hunting right now. But he was my only option.

Scott was a hog's man. I can't, in good conscience, use the term ladies because they were barely identifiable as human females. Most losers with even a little self-respect would have found other ways to satisfy their man-needs. But not Scott. I could count on Scott to bring home about 500 lbs. of pork a week. And he'd be all proud, "She's hot isn't she?" Yeah, hot like someone took an iron skillet to her face. Big thumbs up Scott, enjoy. You've got your hands full there. One time he stumbled out of his room early on a Sunday morning with nothing but his sheet wrapped around him. "We didn't wake you up did we?" Ahhhhh...imaginary stimulation of the visual cortex reaching critical levels. Vent the thoughts...vent the thoughts!

One day I was looking for a book, I believe it was a Physics textbook, and remembered that Scott had borrowed it. As I think back now I can't imagine why he wanted it, other than to either A) Impress the hogs, or B) disprove Newtons theory of a universal gravitation constant through empirical research with massive objects. My guess is the former.

Scott wasn't home and I really needed the book, can't remember why and you'll soon understand my memory issues surrounding the event. I opened the door to his room. It was littered wall-to-wall with garbage; dirty clothes, empty pizza boxes, and the like. Like Arthur casting his eyes upon the holy grail, I spotted the book across the room on a side table. I began to traverse the disaster area, hopeful to get in and out of the room as quickly as possible. This desire to move with speed may have been my biggest mistake. Almost to the book, my foot kicked something solid. I looked down and saw an empty two-liter Coke bottle. Or is it empty? This is the old school black plastic bottomed bottle and it looks like there is something in the bottle, but it doesn't appear to be Coke. I looked closer...that's strange. So, like the curious dumb-ass that I am, I picked it up and took an even closer look. What the hell? Are those....? I froze. Confounded. I can't really be seeing that can I? Finally instinct kicked in and I dropped the bottle faster than Palmeiro's chances for the Hall. The bottle was partially filled with used condoms.

(This is where I give you moment to recover, hope you weren't eating.)

Yes, I said USED condoms. In a two-liter Coke bottle (one-quarter filled). I grabbed the book and ran. I took a shower. I scrubbed my handed. I scrubbed my hands some more. I ate prepared foods for a week (okay I would have done that anyway). What sick f$^% thinks putting his used condoms in a Coke bottle is a good idea. Was he keeping score? Did he not understand how sperm banks work? Think about the process required for getting them in there through that little opening.

I moved out a month later. People are sick.