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The chronicles of the Barista, the Nazi & Dipwit
I am not The OOP, OOP is u/PM_me_gun_questions The chronicles of the Barista, the Nazi & Dipwit Editors Note: these were originally pisted to an r/AskReddit post tittled - What are your roommate horror stories? Originally posted to r/AskReddit TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of statuary rape, nazism, sewage, gross 1st post July 29, 2017 I have many, many stories of my college roommates, but the one that stands out the most was the Shower Incident. My girlfriend and I were renting a house with a female friend who liked to play fast and loose with the term "hygene." From this point on, she'll be known as "the Barista." We were fairly accustomed to the less-than-ideal odors that would waft gently around the Barista, such as when she adopted a diet consisting entirely of hard-boiled eggs, or the Nutmeg Incident. The house we were sharing was built in the 1960s, and we had separate bathrooms. The Barista's bathroom was generally heinous in both smell and appearance, with used tampons and other feminine detritus scattered around. As a result, it took us a while to realize that the smell of raw sewage belching forth from her side of the house was not, in fact, her fault. One day, my girlfriend and I were watching TV while the Barista was at work, and we heard an ominous gurgling noise from her bathroom. Shortly thereafter, we were assaulted by the smell of raw sewage that was so strong it caused my girlfriend (at the time, an autopsy technician) to literally dry heave. Clearly, an investigation had to be mounted, so we made the perilous journey into the Barista's bathroom, stepping cautiously to avoid the used condoms and other keepsakes in her biohazard collection. When we arrived, we discovered that raw, chunky sewage was liberally bubbling up from the drain in the Barista's shower (which was so coated in pubic hair, mold, and stains it looked like a modern art masterpiece). The smell was horrific, and we immediately called the landlady. When the Barista returned home from her shift, she was horrified that the lawn had been torn up to expose the shitty Orangeburg sewer pipes that had been nearly entirely blocked by tree roots. Since the Barista's bathroom was the closest to the sewer main, the backups had been bubbling up in her bathroom for months without the rest of the house being aware. We asked her if she had noticed the issue, and she mentioned that sewage regularly bubbled up from the drain while she was showering (biweekly). Her response? "I just squish it back down with my feet." That was when she got a new nickname: waffle stomp. Waffle Stomp and her moronic family gave us many stories in the year and a half we lived together, and she also introduced us to our second shitty roommate: Statutory Rape Neo-Nazi. I can share more if people are interested. EDIT: More stories posted in the replies! EDIT THE SECOND, FIRST OF HIS NAME AND KING OF THE ANDALS: Thanks for the gold and such! I've had a few people ask for a picture of my 1870s Remington Rolling Block buffalo rifle, so here you go! http://imgur.com/a/eHUWw 2nd post July 30, 2017 Ok, more stories! This one covers our second roomate, Statutory Rape Neo-Nazi (hereafter referred to as "Nazi"). About a year into our time with the Barista, her close friend Nazi moved into the house we were sharing. It's important to note that he didn't goose-step his way into our lives, he was a fairly normal, nerdy guy at first. His previous living situation ended rather abruptly and he needed a place to stay, so we welcomed him in. For the first six months, the three of us (me, my girlfriend, and the Nazi) lived in relative harmony. The Barista's crappy roommate skills and sketchy, con artist boyfriend eventually made us force her out of the house. During this time, we were introduced to the Nazi's girlfriend. He was 22, and she was a freshman in college, so the story goes, and they had been dating on and off for a couple of years. Nazi would regularly have her over for parties and cookouts, and usually she wouldn't leave until the morning after. After the Barista left the house, we started to notice some changes in the Nazi. His family was German, so he had a fair bit of German memorabilia in his room and around the house. He started collecting German military surplus gear and hung a large German flag in his bedroom, which wasn't initially a problem, because everyone needs a hobby. The Nazi had always shown a fascination for WWII, though he focused on the Axis side of the conflict. He purchased a captured Nazi K98 rifle and P38 pistol, and would shoot them regularly. He also acquired an SS knife, deaths-head insignia, and a few other artifacts, which he claimed were "the start of his historical collection." As more and more Nazi souvenirs entered our house, he and his girlfriend began to wear more or less the same clothing - shined combat boots, cargo pants, and leather trench coats. His conversation topics also shifted to "the Nazis could have won the war if the US had just minded its damn business. He also began to rant about European ethnic minorities, showing a special hatred towards the Polish. Eventually, he left his bedroom door open and we spotted a large Nazi flag that had replaced the German one from months before. My girlfriend and I were super not cool with this, since her family is polish and my father's side is Jewish, so we confronted him. He gave us the excuse of "I'm collecting all the flags, I just haven't bought the others yet." Since we were college students, and poor, and sharing rent, we didn't press the issue as far as we should have. I got a phone call from Nazi asking for a ride from his girlfriend's place. Since I was still making a token effort at being a good roommate, I agreed and drove over to pick him up. When I arrived, he was standing on the sidewalk in front of a house while a middle-aged woman screamed and threatened him with a restraining order if she caught him near her daughter again. It turns out that the Nazi's "freshman girlfriend" was not in college, as claimed, but was in the 8th grade. If you're doing the math, that means our 22-year-old roommate was screwing a 13-year-old girl in our home, as well as providing her with alcohol and Nazi propaganda. They had met, apparently, when he was 18 and she was 9. This was a Big Deal, and resulted in his eviction from the household. After we kicked him out, he went full Nazi on social media, shaving his head, posting anti-jewish diatribes, and generally being a piece of human garbage. EDIT: Since a few people have remarked on it, the Nazi's girlfriend was very physically mature for a 13-year-old. She looked a little baby-faced to be a college freshman, but many people are at that age, so it wasn't too suspicious. She also spent a lot of time on campus, so we believed her story about being a student. 3rd post July 30, 2017 The Barista had a younger brother who I'm going to call Dipwit. Dipwit was 19 when we met him, and in terms of intelligence was roughly on par with a Labrador retriever, or possibly an above-average houseplant. He became infamous for doing stupid shit. Several of his incidents are detailed below. Dipwit Earns His Wings Dipwit wanted to learn how to fly. He wanted to join the Air Force, but they wouldn't take him, so he joined the Civil Air Patrol instead. For those not in the know, the Civil Air Patrol (CAP) is an auxiliary to the USAF, largely doing things like search and rescue and giving high school students an opportunity to fly. Dipwit was never, as far as I know, permitted to touch the controls of an aircraft, for which we should all be thankful. I came home one day to find that Dipwit, in his eminent wisdom, had built himself a "hang glider." This consisted of a triangular frame made of PVC pipe (not glued together), layers and layers of duct tape, and a bedsheet stretched over the whole thing. He was extremely excited about his invention, and invited me down to the local park to watch him test it. Note that Dipwit was a legal adult with no mental illness or handicap (he was just an idiot). After about 45 minutes of watching Dipwit spring back and forth, dragging his unwieldy hang glider behind him in a vain attempt to somehow lift off from the ground, I suggested that he should try to gain a little elevation and jump off (because I was then, and am now, a terrible person). I intended him to jump off the wall around our home, which was roughly 6 feet. He took this to mean "jump off the curb and into the moderately trafficked street, causing cars to slam on their brakes to avoid hitting you." After several close encounters with moving vehicles and their irate drivers, he had the idea to move somewhere safer for his flight tests. This was, of course, the roof of his home. I wish this tale ended with Dipwit soaring triumphantly into the sunset, but instead it ends with him sobbing like a small child in an emergency room with a broken arm. Dipwit Tries to Burn the House Down Our rental house came with a shitty propane grill in the backyard. I had fixed it up, and cookouts became a regular event at our place, with me serving as grillmaster and Dipwit trying to stick his finger in the burner to see how hot it was (hot enough to cook a burger apparently wasn't enough information). He had always been enthralled by fire, so it wasn't a surprise when I came home and discovered him using the grill to cook some hot dogs. The problem was, Dipwit didn't understand the difference between propane and charcoal grills. Even though he had seen me fire the grill up dozens of times, he never made the connection between the propane cylinder and the total lack of charcoal in our house. When faced with what was (to him) an inoperable grill, he went into full problem solving mode. One trip to walmart later and he had a bag of instant light charcoal, a box of matches, and a soon-to-be empty bottle of lighter fluid. I came home from class to the overpowering stench of lighter fluid and bratwurst. When I went into the backyard, I found Dipwit and his sister the Barista gleefully scorching the hell out of a helpless pack of bratwurst. Dipwit had filled the flimsy, sheet metal grill with most of a bag of charcoal, dumped an entire bottle of lighter fluid on it, and threw a match into it. The bottom of the grill was visibly glowing red, and the propane hose had begun to melt (because Dipwit didn't even try to remove the mostly full tank from the grill). He had also neglected to move the grill away from the house, which resulted in an interesting pattern of scorching to the stucco where the metal had contacted it. Luckily, he didn't burn down the rental, but from then on he was not allowed near anything heat-producing in our home, including the toaster. Assorted Dipwiterry Dipwit tried to make his own fireworks in our kitchen by dumping out the contents of a bunch of little paper poppers into a pile. The pile self-detonated, leaving him temporarily deaf, me terrified in another room, and a burn on said countertop. We did not get our security deposit back. Dipwit once broke into our home at 3 AM to surprise his sister (who was on vacation in another state at the time). I greeted him in the dark with a shotgun, and nearly shot him on principle alone. Dipwit threw a full can of RAID into a bonfire because he didn't understand the difference between insect repellent, insect killer, and fragmentation grenade. More small dipwit tales are available if anyone is interested. RELEVANT COMMENTS More on Dipwit and the fireworks If I recall correctly, he was planning on filling a toilet paper tube, taping it to an arrow, and shooting it in the backyard. I'm not really sure what he hoped to accomplish overall, but then again, Dipwit wasn't known for considering the consequences of his actions. Did the grill survive? I tried to fire the grill up after that incident, but the heat damaged the burner elements and it never cooked well again. I guess in the end, he gave it a Viking funeral. 4th post July 30, 2017 Assorted Barista The Barista learned that she had to mix gas and oil in the weedwhacker, and assumed the same principle applied to her $10,000 scooter. That poor vehicle smoked and wheezed all over town the entire time she owned it, and spent a substantial portion of its life in the shop. She "lost" no fewer than 4 iphones and 2 purses by leaving them on the seat of her scooter and going into her classroom. She struggled with her weight, and rather than use the free gym provided on campus decided that a 3-week long "hardboiled egg cleanse" was the way to shrink her ass. She ate nothing but hardboiled eggs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner until my girlfriend and I removed all eggs from the fridge due to the sulfurous smell that followed the Barista everywhere she went. The Barista ate several tablespoons of nutmeg. She wasn't paid or dared to do it, one of her coworkers suggested she try it and down the hatch it went without question. Nutmeg, if you're unaware, is a gnarly hallucinogen. She spent the entire next day tripping balls, screaming about the snakes in the walls stealing her feet, pouring glasses of water only to dump them on the floor, and generally being a pain in the ass. The video I took during that time is a constant reminder to never have roommates again. The Barista discovered the wonders of using a slowcooker, and would regularly make her favorite meal: unseasoned ground beef, chopped raw potatoes, and water. She dubbed this "stew," though I preferred "beeftato soup." It would usually sit in the fridge until it was sentient enough to vote, at which point my girlfriend would throw it out. 5th post July 30, 2017 More Tales of Dipwittery! As many of these stories begin, one day I came home to find Dipwit in my backyard. He had taken it upon himself to learn how to throw knives. His target was a large chunk of plywood, and his chosen weapons were, of course, our kitchen knives, several of which lay broken in the grass (and one of which, I later found out, flew over the wall and into the neighbor's yard while they were grilling). Dipwit once attempted to "fix" the Barista's poor, innocent scooter. As mentioned in another comment, she had a nasty habit of pouring oil into the gas tank under the mistaken belief that it needed mixed fuel and lube, like a weedwhacker (spoiler alert: no). As a result, it ran badly more or less constantly and spent a lot of time in the hands of her mechanic. Dipwit decided he was going to fix the engine whether it liked it or not, and grabbed his second favorite tool, the framing hammer. We came into the garage to find Dipwit gleefully beating the shit out of the scooter's seat with said hammer. He was beating the padded area, so the only damage he managed to do was to jam the latch holding the seat down. Here's the plot twist, though: with the seat jammed, the Barista couldn't fill the gas tank at all, so Dipwit inadvertently fixed the problem. To this day, I'm not sure if it was deliberate. RELEVANT COMMENTS greenpill420 Did anyone try to tell her what she was doing wrong or did you all not find out until later? Couldn't the mechanics have figured it out and said something? OOP Multiple people told her she was being an idiot, but she didn't care. She was one of those folks who just can't stand to be wrong about anything, and will deliberately do something incorrectly so they don't lose face in their own mind. I'm not sure what her mechanic was telling her, but she probably wasn't listening. That, or her mechanic was shady and took advantage of the situation, but I honestly couldn't say one way or the other. ~ Scary-Brandon Not really fixed if she can't fill the gas tank. Sure she can't mix the gas with oil but.... she also can't put gas in on its own. Or is there something I'm missing? OOP She couldn't fill the gas tank, which in turn meant she couldn't fill it with mixed gas/oil. Since she was the cause of the problem, removing her access to the tank meant (temporarily, at least) keeping oil out of the gas tank. 6th post July 30, 2017 The Barista Strikes Back! My girlfriend and I once made the mistake of going camping with the Barista and Dipwit. In our defense, this was before we truly understood the depths of their idiotic depravity. The trip itself was a total failure, as the desert we were camping in was struck by a 100-year record snowfall the night before we left (this started a lengthy series of camping failures for my girlfriend and I, but that's another story). We eventually gave up on the trail and left for home, but in doing so we made a nearly fatal error: we let the Barista drive. One of our vehicles was a crappy 1990's era Saturn with a manual transmission. The Barista swore up and down that she could drive stick, so we gave her the keys. She managed to get the vehicle rolling without stalling it, due to the large mountain we were driving down, and away we went. Everything went smoothly until we hit the bottom of the mountain and the Barista screamed "WE HAVE NO BRAKES." She panicked and, rather than simply slowly coast to a stop on the perfectly level, straight highway, jerked the wheel onto the shoulder and aimed the nose of the car at a 40-foot cliff. My girlfriend had the presence of mind to yank the parking brake, and the Saturn grumbled its way to a halt. Apparently, when the Barista told us she could drive stick, she meant "I can put it neutral, roll 15 miles down the mountain, and use only my brakes to control my speed." She had literally cooked the brakes to the point that they were completely nonfunctional, and managed to strand one of our vehicles and half of our gear on a sketchy stretch of highway for 8 hours. This was the most egregious, but definitely not the last problem she caused in that car. RELEVANT COMMENTS LowlySlayer Individually they sound fake, but in quantity I choose to believe. OOP Honestly, I wouldn't have believed them if I heard them from someone else. I still can't fathom how one family of people can be that stupid. Then, of course, I read about Kevin and realize that they're not alone in this world. ~ PurlToo I want to know what you are doing with your life to find these bizarrely awful people to live with. Have you ever had any good/decent roommates? Were these few just a couple of bad years? Is your town this shitty that you're mostly stuck with accepting awful roommates? If the town is that bad how did you and your (not regaled as crazy) girlfriend find each other? OOP The Nazi, the Barista, and Dipwit (though he wasn't a roommate, he was at our house regularly) were our first and last roommates. It was a weird couple of years for my girlfriend and me, as it was our first time putting together an adult life away from home and we made more than a few stupid choices. The town we lived in was certainly shitty, but once we both had decent jobs, we got rid of the roommates and haven't had them in over 8 years. We met in our freshman orientation group on our first day of college. Has OOP met the rest of the Baristas family? I actually visited her childhood home, more than once. Her family claimed to be ex-Mormon, and kept a super clean house (with the exception of her brother Dipwit, who dwelled in the basement in a cavern of filth). & I met the Barista's mother several times. She was a bit airheaded, but otherwise a normal college professor. Not sure what happened to the Barista's father, but I suspect Dipwit was involved. And more on Dipwit Dipwit turned to either the framing hammer or the box of matches to solve 90% of his problems. THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7 submitted by /u/Direct-Caterpillar77 to r/BestofRedditorUpdates [link] [comments]
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Direct-Caterpillar77 |
Aug 9, 2025 |