Starts A House Fire

It's such a cliche to say "he will probably burn down the house someday" but the Hurricane has changed this from a cliche to a fact. I was having a conversation with the guy that lives upstairs about the mess in the house last week...

Fox: Dude do you ever say anything to him about his messes?
BD: Hahaha, na I just ignore it, I'm hardly ever here.
Fox: I don't know how you do it, I would have already killed him.
BD: Well now that I've had to have my parents watch my dog because of the conditions here I think I might start a blog or do something funny, it's too unreal not to share.
Fox: Well that sucks but it's prolly better your dog isn't here, he is gonna burn down the place someday.
BD: Wouldn't surprise me, he took down all the smoke detectors too.
Fox: You really need to tell someone, I dont wanna die because of a Hurricane fire.
BD: I'll give your eulogy. I'll title it "Fire and Hurricanes"
Fox: I'd laugh if I wasn't genuinely scared about that...

I left that weekend and returned very late on Sunday night. Every time I come home I am expecting to be surprised and disgusted, but this time was special. I was even MORE surprised and disgusted than usual. The stench hit me in the face as soon as I opened the front door. A horrid mix of weed smoke, incense and burnt popcorn. I look around and the place is trashed as always, with all the windows open, incense burning and the microwave door ajar. Looking at the formerly white microwave, I knew what happened: the fucker started a legitimate house fire cooking popcorn.

He even had attempted to clean the black out of the interior of it, but it was no help, it's now an ugly brown mix of smoke and probably a bowl of chili that was blown up inside it, just a retched smelling box of half melted plastic and circuit boards. Why the fuck would someone leave this in a house? It's trash! It looks like god damn Chernobyl!

Then I look down the hallway. My bedroom door is closed. My door is never closed. Jesus Christ what the fuck does this mean. Fuck it, lets see what's behind door number two. I walk into my room and the smell is worse in my room that anywhere else in the house. Did he bother to open my bedroom window after the incident? Nope. And not only did he not open my window he closed my door!

That's about the time I remembered I just brought home my dry cleaning. I have 68 dress shirts in my closet, and now every single one of them smells like burnt popcorn. I can handle the wretched smells and messes of the Hurricane's existence at home, mostly because I'm never there, but now his stink is following me to my car, my work and even friend's houses.

I immediately go to do some laundry with double detergent. I grab my first load of clothes, walk to the garage and fire up the washing machine. Soon as I finish throwing my pile of stank in the washer I go to grab some detergent....none left. Hurricane must have needed to do all his clothes and used all the detergent in the process. Nice, fucker. This was a few weeks ago, and there is still no detergent out there. This is now on the list of things I need to keep hidden from him in order to function as a normal human being.

The best part of this entire incident is his lack of any type of acknowledgment that it occurred. Not once over the next couple weeks, while we passed each other many times in the midst of that putrid smell, did he ever mention anything about it. But a close second place is the fact that he continues to use this same microwave. The screen no longer works so he has to guess what the cooking settings and time are and every time it's used the house smells of burnt popcorn. Even weeks later, use that thing at all and it just reeks of burnt popcorn. It's a nice, near daily reminder that my life is in danger.

Cooks Dinner

Hurricane cooked dinner Sunday night.

I took this picture Wednesday morning.

Kitchen Photos Update

I am leaving the house for about 10 days. The Hurricane will be there the whole time, alone, unsupervised. If there is a house still standing when I return (which is not a certainty seeing as he how recently started a major fire in the place) I will give a vivid update. That is, if the Reality TV Show "Hoarders" hasn't already done a special about it...

Did a party just happen here? No, the Hurricane just came through.

And it looks like the kitchen trash bags have figured out a way to replicate, they are clever little Tribbles.

Hurricane Proofing The Garage

See that empty space on the right? That is where the hurricane parks.

See that car to the left under a padded blanket blocked off by two mattresses? That is what the guy upstairs did to keep his car from getting banged up.

In this case, a picture is worth 1,000 words...

Bathroom Etiquette

Do you have a roommate that will use your clean, perfectly folded/hung bath towel instead of his dirty one that is laying on the ground still wet?

I do.


Do you have a roommate that will use your deodorant if he is too lazy to go buy his own?

I do.


Do you have a roommate that will also use your bar of soap in the shower?

I do.


Do you have a roommate that will use your shaving cream because he is too lazy to go buy his own? And even use your spare bottle of shaving cream after you hide your current one from him?

I do.



Because of this I now live out of my bedroom. I never unpack my bathroom kit from travel, as it is just easier to transport since I now have to keep everything in my closet. I have hooks on my wall in my room but instead of jackets or something normal, I hang my bath towels on them. I am becoming a willing prisoner of my own room because I choose not to live in his filth, or let his filth infect my lifestyle. More Qs....

Does your roommate flush the toilet after he pisses?

Mine doesn't


Does your roommate close the door when he uses the bathroom?

Mine doesn't


Does your roommate wipe anything down or put anything away when he is done?

Mine doesn't


I don't know if this guy was raised by wolves or something far worse, but if I had to guess I would choose the 'far worse' option. Final answer.


Has your roommate broken the TP holder in your bathroom?

Mine has. Three times.


Has your roommate lost the TP holder in your bathroom?

Mine has. Twice.


Has your roommate clogged up the toilet bad enough to have to call a plumber....after a week?

Mine has.


Did that roommate act surprised when the plumber explained that the missing TP holders mysteriously got flushed and that's what was clogging the toilet....because mine didn't.

Takes Out The Trash?

I have to preface this post with my schedule. I am rarely at this house. I leave early in the morning, usually before sunrise, and come home late at night, usually after sunset. Most weekends I am somewhere else. So I don't use anything in the house. I never use any dishes or even create any trash. Most of my meals are eaten at work or on the way home or over a friends house. The mess that gets generated in this house is 100% the Hurricane's. I contribute nothing to this disaster.

This is the kitchen trash. Not only will he overfill it, he will get out a new trash bag and instead of replacing the full one, just lay it next to the wall and start filling that one up too. With what I don't know, cuz most of his trash is still laying all over the house.

Just when you think it can't get worse than this, that is when you realize its just the eye of the hurricane and you got another wave of destruction coming your way. See below pic.

What is this? It's the inside of our front door. What happened? No fucking clue. How someone would carry full trash bags, out of the kitchen to the front door and just leave them there I couldn't tell you. The trash cans for the house are maybe another 15 steps outside. About nine seconds round trip. But nope. Hurricane leaves the trash here. This is a new trick for him. This was just the left side of the doorway. The right side had a couple of small bags also.

They stayed here about 10 days. Yes really, he left fucking trash bags, on carpet, inside, for a week and a half before they finally were gone. And even this giant feat was only accomplished because our neighbor gave him a bunch of shit over the weekend for being a dirty bastard. I was again out of town. Finally when I came home Monday night, while the house still trashed, at least the bags of trash were no longer on the ground.

And just to give you an idea what the aftermath of a hurricane coming through looks like, this is the kitchen counter/bar area. It is always covered in shit, today is no exception.

Hurricane Hits The Bathroom

I came home today to this. Broken toilet seat, unflushed urine in the toilet and drug paraphernalia on the sink counter. Just another day living with The Hurricane.

Will He Eat It? - A Starfish

It's thanksgiving and the Hurricane is gone for a few days. The only time this house has ever been clean is the one weekend he went away. Now that he is gone again for a few days I wake up early and clean the shit out of the house. I am having my Brother and his family over Saturday, wife, kids, dogs, friends, etc. So for this long weekend the house is spotless, and stays that way. This was the only time I have enjoyed living in this house. Oh did I mention it's a fucking beach house? On the fucking sand!? Yea, pretty hard to make that situation shitty, but the Hurricane definitely makes me NOT want to live here.

I run to the store Saturday morning to grab some beers before Bro gets there. Grab a 30pack and come back to the house and they are already there. They also brought a 30pack. And a handle of Vodka. I have a feeling this day is about to be fun. Yes, the six of us finished all of it. Wifey made hot wings and it was probably the best thanksgiving I have ever had in my life.

Toward the end of the day as the sun is going down we take the dogs to the waves and let them play around in the ocean. It's low tide right now so the jetty is completely exposed, which is really cool because there are thousands of starfish and all types of sea life covering it. Feels like you are in an aquarium. After the Hurricane had eaten my lime-aid concentrate, it was time to begin operation "Will He Eat It?" If you haven't read that post, read it first before continuing this story.

There are NO starfish recipes on the internet. Seriously, google it right now, the only one I found was from some survivalist website. It said to boil them. So me and Shitass, drunk as shit, started cooking. I grabbed two starfish and he cut off the legs and boiled them. After he cooked the ten legs, we drunkenly tasted little bites of some of them. Horrid. Hard as coral and probably tasted like it too. After daring everyone in the room to take bites, we have seven legs left over. Shitass gets some BBQ sauce and throws them into a tupperware container...very leftover-ish looking. And hell, it smelled pretty damn good too. I knew he would fall for this one, it smells so good, someone in that bad of a THC induced munchies rage at 3am could never ever resist.

A week goes by and Shitass is over the house watching football with me. After he surveys the house and comments on what a disgusting dirtbag the Hurricane is a few times, he asks about the starfish.

SA: So did he ever eat the starfish?
BD: No I don't think so, it hasn't moved but I haven't opened it to count...

The next trip to the fridge for beers he grabs the container, one of the only things left in the fridge, and opens it up. He breaks out in a loud fucking roar of laughter.

BD: No way, did he eat one?
SA: ONE?!?! Dude there are only four left!
BD: You're shitting me.
SA: Didn't we leave like 6 or 7 in here?
BD: At least six for sure...
SA: I don't believe it.
BD: I don't believe it either, but I knew he would, wow.
SA: Just.... wow, looks like hurricanes are bad for starfish!

In A Hurry To Drink

Quick post, but had to tell someone this. I couldn't believe it as I watched it. Not even sure I can accurately and vividly describe it properly, but here goes.

Hurricane got home from work, busted through the front door slamming it open, ya know his normal Kramer entrance, and goes directly to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of wine and a wine opener and attacked. He was aggressively trying to open this wine bottle, he was in a bit of a frenzy. Me still stunned from his entrance, sitting on the couch watching this scene unfold. He is yanking and grunting and yelling at the cork that wont pop.

He finally pops the cork and realizes he doesn't have a glass. Since he hasn't done any dishes since he has moved in, and I now refuse to pick up after him, he can't find one. He spots a tiny plastic see through cup. About half the size of a normal Solo cup. He starts pouring the wine into the cup....but he is staring at it like he wants to rape it. He can NOT wait to finish the pour and wants to start drinking it now, his eyes are all big, salivating at the alcohol bouncing around in the cup as it fills up.

That's when it happened. He couldn't wait the three seconds to fill up the tiny cup. While still pouring into this mini cup he brings it up to his lips and tries to take a sip. While still pouring. Sticking his lips out as far as he can, trying to get a sip while still leaving enough room for the wine bottle to keep pouring. He now has the wine bottle pressed against his face and is drinking from the cup. He almost pulled it off but of course, in true hurricane style, he spilled wine everywhere in the process. He looks down and uses his shoe to rub it into the floor. It's a fucking vinyl floor. Instead of taking the two seconds to grab a paper towel, that is in arms length away no less, he scuffs it around with his feet and darts into his room.

I sat there stunned. I have never seen such behavior in a human before. It was like watching something on the Discovery channel, the drinking habits of some unknown ape species. Is this real? I ask that question almost daily now.

Will He Eat It? - The Begining

Will He Eat It?

This will be a recourring theme here on this blog. Mostly because anything, and I mean ANYthing, I leave in the fridge or pantry he will consume. Any leftovers, any beers, any frozen foods and even my stir frys....all have gone missing. Well, not really missing, since he doesn't even have the decency to throw away the trash he creates when he tears into my stuff, the evidence is quite clear that a hurricane had just passed through.

I thought I had seen everything at this point, and I had no more food in the house from the late night munchies binges he goes on. I refused at this point to restock any food or drinks, it was all too obvious what their fate would be.

The only thing I had in the house at this point was four frozen lime-aid concentrates, it is for a special drink with Vodka and Beer. Sounds gross but it really is awesome.

It had been a late night for the Hurricane. I don't know if it was midnight or 4am, both or the entirety of that time span, but I kept hearing the same loop of sounds outside my room. Bong rips....15mins pass.....microwave....15mins pass.....bong rips....15 mins pass......microwave.....etc. For hours. He must have gone through all the food he had left over because as I went to work, I snapped this epic pic....

Yup. The Hurricane actually broke out my lime-aid, grabbed a spoon and started indulging himself. This was shortly after Halloween, that is why there is candy all over the place in this pic. I could not believe he got the munchies so bad he started eating lime-aid concentrate straight from the package. This is why we now have "Will He Eat It?" on here, as I will regularly put weirder and weirder shit in the fridge....and see if he will eat it.

You absolutely WILL NOT believe the next "Will He Eat It?" post. It has already happened, and I still don't believe it. The passive aggressive wars have officially started.

Forgets Which Way Doors Open

Before you can understand how ridiculous this is, you have to have a decent visual in your head of how this guy walks into rooms. In a word....Kramer. From Seinfeld. Picture that. Every time he walks into a room, door or not, it's a disaster. Usually he opens the door so fast it bangs against the wall and then bounces back into him, which he is totally caught off guard by, every time. This door bouncing back into him usually distracts him enough so he flails his arms up and knocks something over in whatever room he is going into.

If he is walking into his room the door usually hits the wall then bounces back to him, pushing him into his dresser which has stacks of bongs, plates, glasses and trash on it. So almost every entry into his room something is knocked over or broken. Same goes with the kitchen, which does not even have a door! He will walk into the kitchen, grab the refrigerator door, fling it open wildly, condiments flying off the shelves, which surprises him, every time, and he usually breaks something trying to catch them or dodge the now airborne ketchup bottles.

Lately, in his rush to pass through entry ways, he has been forgetting which way the doors swing open. No. Shit. If a door is open only an inch or so, sometimes he tries to open it furiously...the wrong way, and it slams shut and he immediately bounces into the now closed door. When this happens he quickly opens the door the correct way and walks out like nothing just happened. He even made this mistake trying to walk out the front door yesterday. I believe this is why we now have a crack in the glass in our front door.


He went to open it and walk outside, very hastily, only to realize too late that he again forgot which way it swings open as he slams into it, face first. Watching this happen while he was carrying his laundry was by far my highlight of last weekend. As he and his laundry slammed into the closed door, clothes went everywhere. It was straight out of a wile e coyote cartoon.

You could call him a complete train wreck, except normally trains don't wreck over and over and over....

Drank My Beer

Sounds normal enough right? One roommate drinking the another roommate's beers... No, not this time.

Drinking my beer and eating my food has become such the norm in this house that I am currently searching out new and creative ways to preserve my stuff. Keep in mind we have been in this house for four months and he has yet to go to the grocery store even once.

I went to the corner liquor store to get some beers, It was Monday Night Football or something. I really wasn't in the mood to drink a lot, which means whatever amount of beers I buy right now minus whatever I drink tonight will disappear into the hurricane black hole of weed induced caloric consumption he goes thru every day and night.

Standing there in front of the 7-11 coolers, remembering my high school days I had an epiphany...I'll just get a 40oz! One private beer for just me! With the biggest smile on my face I rode my bike back to the house and enjoyed about three sips of that beer before going to bed. It had been a long week and I was exhausted. I put the 1/3 empty beer back in the fridge and went to sleep.

I got a call from my friend who stopped off at my house to pick up his computer that next day

SA: Hey, is Hurricane (my roommates nickname we gave him) drinking 40s now?
BD: No I bought one last night, that's mine in the fridge that is half full.
SA: It's not in the fridge and it's not half full. Its empty on your coffee table.

Who the fuck drinks someone else's half drank beer? Apparently my roommate, The Hurricane.

Obviously, I am not that clever. My search continues...