current entry older entries message board contact
09:55:39 - 2000-08-02


I had a dream last night that I was hanging out with my old roommate Bill and we robbed a bank (Bill's idea...don't pin this shit on me, dude) and went to prison.

That said ... since yesterday was about as exciting as a wall, I've decided to tell you guys about ALL my old college roommates that I can remember.

My first college was Western Kentucky University.



Mike was from Louisville, Kentucky and just an all-around good guy. Clean-cut but always willing to join me in a beer. Mike was the first person to introduce me to cigars. He and I would sit around our dorm room, smoking Swisher Sweets, the world's most sexually ambivalent cigars ... I mean...the name says it all, kids.

We both thought we were Oscar Madison from "The Odd Couple". We were slobs that smoked cigars all night...even though they were long, thin, and had filters.

Mike and I covered every square inch of our dorm room walls with rock and roll posters. We were pretty proud of the look ... guys would come in and go "whooooa...too cool!"

Smoking Swisher Sweets and doing things to get guys' approval.

My God...let's move on....

Mike lasted one quarter at school. Over the Christmas holidays, he decided he'd rather stay at home in Louisville and go to school.

So I got a new roommate.


I came back from Christmas break and opened up my dorm room door.

The first thing I noticed was that exactly HALF of the posters on my walls had been torn down and put on my bed.

The second thing I saw was a 6'10" black man with panty hose on his head stretched out across Mike's bed.

This was Forrest.

Forrest played basketball on the college team and wasn't too happy that he had to room with me instead of living in the athletic dorm.

When I introduced myself to him, he grunted and rolled over towards the wall.

I lasted with Forrest for one week. It was a night and day change from Mike. Where Mike and I had a blast every day, Forrest wouldn't speak to me. He'd come into the room and just lay down on his bed. I had to keep the TV turned down, the music turned down...and no friends in the room. friends were scared shitless of the guy. It was probably the panty hose that did it.

I moved out of MY room after a week, leaving it to Forrest.

I doubt Forrest ever even noticed I was gone.

I then moved in with ...


Dave was the second coolest roommate I ever had...even beating Mike by a long shot.

Dave was a funny, funny guy. Something tells me if he ever started a diary on the internet, my Army would leave me in droves to go serve him.

Dave's big kick was pranks. I've written about him before in my newspaper column, celebrating the strangeness of Dave.

The thing I remember most was the prank phone calls. He and I would sit up til the weeeee hours of the morning making prank phone calls. We hooked up our phone system so that you could hear the phone calls through my stereo speakers ... so we would have a dorm room full of drunk guys who would come in and admire our techniques of calling people and being totally obnoxious.

This was a decade before The Jerky Boys even THOUGHT about picking up a phone and trying to be funny.

And trust me...we were TEN TIMES funnier than them.

We made hundreds of calls and put them all on tape, which Dave took with him. He spliced together HIS IDEA of a "Best Of" tape of my calls ... which I thought sucked, but they were his favorites that I had done.

The only fight we ever had ... for some reason, he took a magazine I was reading and threw it out the window.

We lived on the 21st floor of a high rise dormitory.

It made me so mad, that I grabbed his treasured paperback book that had every Beatles lyric in it, and chucked it out the window right behind my magazine.

Dave had had that book since he was a kid. He was infuriated. The spine of the book was basically duct tape because he had read that book over and over again over the years.

I still feel bad about that sometimes. He was a great guy and I shoulda never done that.

I left Western Kentucky after my freshman year and transferred to the University of Tennessee to go to school with my girlfriend, Treva, who I write about each day here.

My first roommate there was a guy named


As it turned out...both Mitch and I got dumped by our respective girlfriends a mere days into the school year.

Mitch didn't take the dumping very well.

Let's face it ... it sent him off the deep end.

Mitch would cry at night in his bed.

He'd cry out in the hallway of the dorm in front of the other guys.

This guy cried more than Meryl Streep.

I never figured it out, because his girlfriend was NOTHING to write home about...yet I had been dumped by a high school cheerleader who WAS something to write home about.

And I wasn't boo-hoo-hooing night and day.

Mitch lasted one quarter. He finally dropped out of school, went home and tried to patch things up with his woman.

I have no idea if he ever succeeded.

My next roommate was


Mike 2 (the sequel to Mike), was from Australia and had a pretty cool accent.

He was a short guy, about 5'4" ... always in a great mood, had a good head on his shoulders ... nice guy.

I don't remember much about him other than the fact that one time I brought this GORGEOUS GIRL up to the room at about 2 a.m. and he wouldn't leave us alone in the dorm room.

Most roommates would get up out of bed and go sleep out on the couch in the commons area while you got your groove on with a girl.

Not Mike 2.

We made it to the end of the school year together, but I always secretly held that grudge against him.

The summer of 1982, I worked at the World's Fair in Knoxville, Tennessee and moved in with two friends and a stranger in one of the apartments that a bunch of students lived in during the summer.


David was a few years older than the rest of us. If I recall, he was 22 while we were 19. So he was the "mature" one of the bunch.

...The other three of us smoked pot like it was going out of style ...

We turned our apartment into a drug haven. Bongs everywhere, black light posters, black lights, AC/DC music playing constantly ...

It was the COOLEST place.

David and Bill and I had already known each other before we moved in together and Derrick was the odd man out. I shared my room with him. He was pretty cool ... which means...he always had weed. If I brought a girl back to the apartment, he'd gladly get out of bed and go sleep on the couch while I had unprotected sex because there was no widespread AIDS panic back then.

Derrick also taught us how to make "firecrackers".... which were crackers and peanut butter with pot sprinkled on them. You baked them on low heat for 30 minutes, ate them, and got high as a kite.

We ate a SHITLOAD of firecrackers the summer of '82.

At the end of the summer, Bill and I decided that we had bonded throughout the summer, so he and I decided to get our first real apartment together off of the school's campus.

So .... my next roommate was


Bill, was by far, my favorite roommate.

Bill was an agriculture major. 1982 ... meant that he grew his own pot.

He had several plants in the middle of a forest that was about 20 miles from campus. Once a week, we'd go out to the forest, find the pot plants, and pick several bags worth of pot.

One time we took pictures of each other with our arms around the pot plants. I was hugging a plant that was at least seven feet tall like it was my best friend in my photo.

I have no idea whatever happened to that photo ... but I'd kill to see it again.

So Bill and I smoked a TON of pot. We had so much pot that we'd give it away to friends. Everyone knew when they came to our place that we'd be high and they would be too in a matter of minutes.

The one thing I remember about our apartment was...there was ALWAYS people there. We were never alone ... just the two of us, hanging out.

Oh...and the apartment was a hell hole. We were young and stupid and didn't realize the importance of such things as taking out the trash or washing the dishes to help control the roach problems.

Bill...let me make this clear...was a GREAT GUY.

He also got kicked out of school after the police found him breaking into cars and stealing car stereos.

I would try to tell him what he was doing was wrong ... but he just loved doing it. After he was caught and spent the night in jail and his dad (a Secret Service agent for Nixon and Henry Kissinger) had to come to Knoxville and bail him out ... I didn't see much of Bill after that.

I still miss the hell out of that guy. We had a couple of fist fights ... I won 'em all because Bill was a great guy, but a weakling...but man...I miss him.

That leads us to a quick excursion with


David was one of the three guys that I had lived with in the other apartment...the older, more mature guy.

David basically just moved all his stuff into the apartment, paid rent, but stayed at his girlfriend's apartment night and day. He probably spent two nights in the apartment out of six months.

So I was basically by myself.

I was miserable. I had gotten so used to always having SOMEONE around and now I had no one.

Since Bill was gone, the endless pot supply dropped off immediately.

The pot plants were all picked and dead.

People didn't come around as much as they had.

And I didn't have a girlfriend.

So David doesn't count.

One night I met a girl in a bar named Cindy. We hit it off real well and I went home with her.

I had no more money to pay my share of rent in the apartment so I asked her if I could move in with her. She said "Sure".

So my next roommates were


This was the first time I actually lived with a woman. Cindy and I didn't have much of a relationship outside the sexual realm. We had sex morning, noon and night.

Her roommates were freaks as well. They'd climb into bed with us and we'd all get high and watch TV.

Me and three women in bed together. Sometimes clothed...sometimes not.

Never any hanky panky, other than playful nude wrestling stuff. Cindy didn't mind me being nude around her roommates and vice versa. I think mainly because she kept me around for sex and laughs and that was about it. I wasn't much use to her other than that.

Cindy was a waitress at a Darryl's restaurant and one night I laid in bed for hours waiting for her to come home.

When she finally got home around 4 am, I was pretty peeved.

"Where have you been," I asked.

"Nowhere," she replied.

As it turned out...she had been screwing some co-worker of hers, which made me ill. It wasn't was just that she was coming to our bed all freshly fucked, while I had remained faithful to her throughout the three-month relationship.

I packed my bags and left. And ended up at


Randy was pretty cool. He was a rich boy whose parents bought him a nice apartment. He already had an old friend of mine, Barry, living on one of his couches, and he took me in as well.

Randy was a dead ringer for the oldest brother on "Eight Is Enough". So he was getting laid on a nightly basis and bringing home girl's friends for Barry and I.

It was a pretty cool set-up. We had some good times there. I didn't pay rent, I cooked for everyone using Randy's money ... hell...I was a bum that just amused Randy.

Once my parents found out that I had basically dropped out of school, was living on the couch of a friend's house and had no real intentions of finishing my education, they came down from New Jersey, forced me to pack my bags and move to Jersey with them.

I packed my stuff, but there's one thing I forgot to pack that I still kick myself in the ass for every now and then.

I was a "songwriter" throughout my teenage years, having written over 1,000 songs in neatly-kept notebooks. Those notebooks were my pride and joy.

And the last I saw them, they were at the top of Randy's hall closet.

I completely forgot to pack them.

And now...Randy is the mastermind behind the bands N' Sync and the Backstreet Boys.

And all those songs they sing? Those were originally written by me.

And now you know....THE REST OF THE STORY.

Well...not really. I did leave the notebooks behind, but those aren't my songs being sung. I just had to think of someway to end this marathon entry.

That's my college roommate stories.

Peace out.

0 comments so far
The last one/The next one

NEW!!!Come and write some BAD EROTICA with the cool kids!

My Diaryland Trading Card
Now go write a Suck Ass Poem™
Write me a note here.
Read my notes here.
Hey! Take the Uncle Bob Quiz!
What the hell! May as well take the wildly popular Uncle Bob Second Quiz too!
Thanks Diaryland
Designed by Lisa


Have you read these?

The End Of Uncle Bob - 12:28 p.m. , 2009-02-19

Losing Focus While Trying To Write A Blog Entry Is Cool. - 1:47 p.m. , 2008-12-04

Buck Up Junior, You Could Be Digging Ditches - 11:36 p.m. , 2008-10-31

That Sinking Feeling - 6:09 a.m. , 2008-10-28

Return Of The Karate Kid And His Slow Kitty-Lovin' Accomplice - 5:44 a.m. , 2008-10-22

Sign up for my Notify List and get email when I update!

powered by

Click on the button below to order the book "Never Threaten To Eat Your Co-Workers: Best of Blogs" featuring Uncle Bob.
You WON'T be sorry.


Read a random entry of mine.