![]() Like hogs to the slaughter, everyone in the room quickly and dutifully filed out of the room. Still, these people needed to leave, so I took the most extreme measure possible: I commandeered the music and played “Closing Time” (loudly). (My roommate had very specific taste.) I needed some fucking sleep, man, but no one, least of all my roommate, would listen to my pleas for quiet. Stone cold sober after a night of studying - this must have been one of those periods when I was dangerously close to flunking out, and in a fit of panic, decided to become studious for a short period of time - I was in no mood to entertain a bunch of drunks who wanted to use my room to smoke weed and listen to late-1990s gangster rap into the wee hours. ![]() (He didn’t tell me he was bringing people over, let alone ask. ![]() One night during my sophomore year of college, I came back to my small fraternity bedroom to find my dirtbag roommate hosting a random assortment of barflies, sorority girls and general layabouts he’d been out drinking with earlier that evening. ![]()
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