Wednesday, August 30, 2006

FU Craig

To be fair, I have bought a few file cabinets off of craigslist without incident, and have found several great roommates over the years, many of whom I still stay in touch with, even from my college years. Two of my latest adventures with craig, however, have ranged between frustrating disappointment and a truly horrid experience. Let's start with a roommate that my flatmates and I found off of craigslist.

Let's call him Craig. Craig seemed cool at first. He was funny and quick-witted. He had tattoos but a real job...and he was a D.J. on the weekends. Cool, but not too cool. He seemed like a good counter-weight to the other three roommates who were all different shades of boring professionals.

Little did we know.

Fast forward a few months. I get a call from Craig in the middle of the day, saying that if the cops contacted me regarding a female friend of his, to say that I didn't know anything. Which was true. I didn't. Apparently a former friend of his had started to consider pressing charges for rape. He said that it was all just a lie. I didn't know what to believe, but I knew that this was not good.

Then the drugs really started. He would fairly regularly be on something at any given moment. His favorite was acid, which meant that on Tuesdays (yes, Tuesdays) I would often come home to pounding industrial trance (or whatever the fuck his sub-genre of music was), with him running around the flat with no shirt on, but a fuzzy vest and a woman's wig, and toilet paper hanging out of his ears.

It became a chore to go home. I didn't want to see him, I didn't want to hear that "dope new track." A good day was when I would come home and he would still be passed out from the night before.

Then one day I came home and he had bandages all over him. One was around his head. It reminded me of cartoon characters from when I was a kid. You know, when they had a toothache and they would have that bandage around the bottom of their jaw, and it tied at the top?

"What happened?," I asked.
"I got into a fight."
"Really, with who?"
"Nah, I'm just kidding...I got plastic surgery"

Now at this point I thought the fight story sounded the more plausible, but I was wrong. He had gotten some liposuction and a chin tuck, or whatever it's called.

"Hey man, would you mind keeping your phone by your bed? I might need something during the night, and I might not be able to get up."

Something else I learned...the wounds left over from lipo? They seep and ooze. For the next week, there were soiled gauze bandages spread around everywhere.

Then the coup de resistance. A few months later, he tried to solicit a prostitute. How did he go about this, you ask? Why the great bazaar that is craigslist of course! The girl came over, took his money and said that she was under age and that if he ever said anything, she would go to the cops. Later in the day, she came back with some "friends" asking for more money. Nothing else ever happened, but we kicked him out.

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