Picking Up Strays

"There is a place. Like no place on Earth. A land full of wonder, mystery, and danger! 

Some say to survive it: You need to be as mad as a hatter."

Stacy moved in.  She seemed like the perfect roommate at first:  Her work schedule kept her out of the house when I was at home most of the time, and her rent checks didn't bounce.  While she was around we got to know each other pretty well.  We'd hang out, drink, play video games, talk about everything.  She came to view Leah and I almost as surrogate parents.  I honestly think that our house was the closest thing to a stable environment Stacy had ever been in.

That lasted for all of a month, maybe not even that long.  During that time she quit her jobs in Mandeville, moved in completely and started staying in New Orleans full time, and then she lost the job as a "shot girl" and became a stripper for a few weeks.  I still kick myself for not going to see her at work before she quit. (Hot as hell, even if she does consider me a father figure).  And then she met Liam.  Fuck Liam, fuck everything about him, from his pale skin and "emo" hair, to his inability to ever say ANYTHING that is true.  I hated him from the moment she brought the little turd into my house.  This was partly due to the fact that he made her quit stripping and get a job as a bartender at one of the daiquiri places.  Bastard.

Very shortly after Stacy and Liam start dating, Leah and I started to notice that he was ALWAYS there.  After about 2 weeks we finally get a chance to talk to Stacy alone, and found out that the fucking moron had been kicked out of his apartment by his old roommates, and that he had nowhere to go.  Stacy told us that the 2 of them were looking for a place and that they would likely be moving in a few weeks, when the month ended.

At this point Leah and I cared a lot about Stacy.  She came to us for advice, we encouraged her to get into college, and get her life organized.  When Liam walked into the picture, suddenly all of that stopped.  We knew that he was no good for her, and that this wasn't going to end well.  Unfortunately, we also knew that she was "IN LOVE" with him, and would follow him anywhere despite how much it potentially screwed up her life.  People get seriously fucking retarded over love sometimes.  So, Leah and I decide to allow them both to share the downstairs room, for an increased share of the rent.  In hindsight, I should have just secured an alibi and run him over with my truck a few times.

Liam moves in and one of the first things he does is to get Stacy a cat.  (Have I mentioned how much I hate this kid?)  I already have 2 dogs, love em to death, but the problem is that in addition to all of the other crap I have to deal with, they flat out refuse to be house-trained and every morning I have to mop up dog shit.... so the last thing I needed was a cat...or 2 roommates who didn't take care of the cat after the first few days.  They pretty much just worked, got high and fucked all of the time.... I had to buy a better set of earplugs.

Now, I only mention the cat because it led to all manner of stupidity.  Leah and Stacy go out and buy this thing what I swear was every god damned toy in PetCo.  With this truck load of small jingly toys, I now wake up in the morning, every morning, to the sound of 2 stoned morons fucking, having to clean up dog shit, and almost killing myself stepping on cat toys...

How NOT to pick a roommate.

Let's go back to August 2011.  I have just moved into a new apartment, with my new(ish) girlfriend, Leah.  Signed a lease, moved all of our belongings across the lake from Mandeville to a 2 bedroom apartment in Uptown New Orleans.  If that sounds awesome, you're right, it was pretty awesome.

Unfortunately, it sounded awesome to pretty much everyone we knew in Mandeville as well.  Within 2 weeks we had several people calling us wanting to crash, stopping by randomly.  Parties didn't get planned during this time, they just kind of happened.  Normally I'm okay with the odd person crashing on my couch, but that's only when they don't decide to burrow in and camp out for weeks...

Enter, Daisy.  She is about 20 years old, waitress at a Waffle House.  She's young, a little naive.... wait who am I kidding? This girl has no common sense and the survival skills of a lemming.  She calls us up, excited about her new job in the French Quarter as a "Shot Girl", and for those who don't know, this is about one step above prostitute.  These girls literally whore themselves out to sell shots to guys in clubs, and they are paid 100% commission.  But, whatever, to each their own.  She asks if she can crash for the weekend while she has work, and I am too nice to turn down anyone, so she came down that weekend.

Here's where the insanity begins.  She shows up on Thursday night with her overnight bag...AND AN EXTRA PERSON, her friend and "sister" (but not really) Stacy.  Stacy has, from all outward appearances, the exact same back story as Daisy.  About 20, shot girl on the weekend, waitress at a Waffle House.  I'm not happy that no one called to ask if this was okay first, but I agree to let them stay for the weekend anyway.

What started out as one weekend, turned into EVERY weekend. They would come over Thursday night, and leave Tuesday afternoon.  Now, at first this was no big deal, I am pretty laid back and go with the flow most of the time.  We got to know, and like, Stacy.  She seemed to have her shit together, 3 jobs, plans for college, came from a pretty hard situation, but was determined to do better for herself, and was very respectful of our home, always cleaned up after herself, asked permission to do things, tried not to butt in on our life too much.  Daisy, on the other hand, was the polar opposite.  She almost acted like Leah and I should have felt honored to have her grace our home.  She ate all of my food, dirtied all of the dishes, never picked up after herself, followed me around everywhere, and never left me alone, Leah and I even woke up with her sleeping in our bed one morning!

The final straw came when Daisy decided that she wasn't going home during the week anymore.  She started picking up extra shifts without even bothering to ask first, and just stopped leaving.  When she sensed we were about to say something to her, she would stay out at a friends house for a night or 2, always leaving her stuff behind.  Finally, after much complaining to Stacy, we just put her stuff on the back porch, changed the locks, and sent her a message to come get her stuff, it didn't finally disappear for about 2 weeks!!

End of one problem.... Beginning of another...  Stacy wound up moving into our guest bedroom as a full blown roommate, paying rent and all... But that is a story for next time.