One Way E-Mail to Hell

Everyone is an asshole.

At some point, in each and every human life, there is a moment where everyone acts like an asshole. A bastardly scumbag.  A disgusting abhorrent douche. It doesn’t matter if a person is a full time, profession asshole or encours a single case of a passive aggressive twatness, the maxim remains.  At some point, even the Sainted Mother Teresa blew off a lunch date without so much as giving a courtesy cancelation call.

Everyone is an asshole.

Not claiming innocence from this law of human nature, I want to share my own tale of asshole-ness. Let’s begin with some background information shall we?

College freshman roommates are notoriously lousy.  Being the first year, nobody really knows who they want to room with. Even if you are lucky enough to meet someone during orientation that tickles your fancy enough to want to become roomies, within the first month of new found collegiate freedom, personalities change and kids are netflixing “Roadhouse” to learn from Patrick Swayze how to breaks legs and rip throats. (RIP Patrick, you will always be a bad ass, throat ripping, dirty dancing ghost)

With two years of experience as a Freshman College RA I have to admit, there are some ABSURD roommate conflict stories.  Stories of sabotage, conniving bitchiness, and clothing exposed to cooked chicken Ramen Noodles.

To make matters worse, there comes a point when filling out college paperwork during orientation where a single box can be the difference between living in the Andy Dufresne “one bunk Hilton” or Cool Hand Luke’s ‘box,” figuratively speaking of course.

“Would you be interesting in rooming with an international student? Yes or No?”

I thought I was going to get Bruce Lee. What I got instead was anything but. (Names will be purposefully omitted to protect such persons against RantingEstaban.com fanclub rioting and vigilante violence.)

 

The guy was a douche-nozzle.  Not because he sprinted the 30 some odd feet to and from the bathroom to evacuate. Not because he would only eat fresh cranberries or the foulest smelling Cantonese chow mein from Evergreen Asian Restaurant.  Not because he would stand over your shoulder unannounced as you watched a movie laying down in bed, only recognizing his presence as his putrescent aura loomed into the line of stench.  The reason he was a douche-nozzle is simple this, his nozzle was douchey.

Not shockingly, Mr. Asia and I did not speak from the months of December through June. When I say “did not speak” it means not a “Good morning,” “Hello,” or any number of onomatopoeias.  However, we DID have one last communication between the two of us.  I would now like to share to you an unaltered e-mail which I received while sitting approximately 6 feet from it’s sender.

Dear Dave:
It is not my wish to raise fights, but an incident today prompted me to do at least a basic check.
In the afternoon, I was supposedly sleeping until I hear the rising volume of the TV, the tuning of your guitar, and your pleasant conversation with Andrej(?)-at a volume higher than normal speech. Now, I would not automatically alienate anyone just because of uncomfortable conducts, so I feel I shall ask you plainly on two questions: Was there really a tendency, a persistence for you to have the tv on loudly even when you are sleeping or not in the room(a habit for you to fell asleep better, for example?) and that what factors made you to disrespect me in such conducts? From what I could remember, few if any similar conducts were done by me to you.(ex. use of headphone was a measure I often take)

If those were just normal life features and you believe in so, please say so; if those were taken for a purpose to affect me, please also make the reasons clear. I am just proclaiming that, whether intentionally or unintentionally, I believe I had received enough aural annoyance so far, and I wish to know if there’s a specific reason (or reasons) for this. Thank You.

Andrew

Pretty good English for a two faced son of a jackel who has the nerve to call himself an “international student” after admitting he’s lived in the Minnesota for nearly 16 years.

I could have gone numerous ways after I received and read this e-mail.  Most of them would have been amicable and courteous or at the very least moralistic in reply.  However, every man has its breaking point, and this was mine. I was ready to throw my digital sucker punch.

This was my reply to Mr. Twatasia’s e-mail unaltered. None of the facts are true whatsoever. None of it I regret.

Dear Andrew:
I know we haven’t talked a lot over the year.  But I guess there are a few things you should know about me to understand some of the habits I have.

When I was a child, my parents use to fight all the time.  The screaming was utterly unbareable at times, it shook the house.  Sometimes I could hear them physically hitting each other.  As a child nobody wants to hear their parents fight, or admit that their family isn’t as perfect as they wish it to be.  The only way I could escape all of the mess was by turning up the TV in my room very loud, so that I was not able to hear the verbal assults my parents placed on each other.  If I keep the TV on all night and slept though the berating, I could imagine that I had the family that I always wanted.  One that was kind and considerate and loving.  I’m sorry but this is a pretty sensitive topic for me and it’s very hard to discuss in person.  But I feel that you needed to know this so that you would not be offended by my “aural annoyances” anymore.

My one way e-mail to hell.

Let’s clear up about my parents. They are loving, non-abusive, best of intension people that anyone could hope to ask for.  Yes their qualms about my alcoholism are unfounded and their quarks parallel other parental idiosyncrasies. But they’re good people!

My response was more to the intension of “Suck it Mr. Douchewanese!  Get away from your shitty anime long enough to learn how to actually talk to people and become a social adult which being at college encourages and provides a great platform for.”

Okay, lets wrap this up and get to his last words ever to me in any form digital or otherwise.

Dear Dave:
I got the idea. If that’s the case, I have nothing to argue against. Now I’m more respective of you, considering what you had endured and had overcome. It was my fault that I didn’t try to understand you more during the year, and I guess I’ll simply apply earplugs more when needed.  Thanks for letting me know about this and my best wishes to you and your family.

                                                                                     Andrew

Everyone is an assole.

(I don’t proofread and I’ll never apologize for typos or incoherent sentences or ideas. It’s a god damn blog)

 

About: Marahute

I'm a widower and mother of three wonderful recently born babies. My husband was killed by an Australian poacher and never got to see his offspring. For an uncertain amount of time I was in prison until rescued by a brave young man and his two rodent friends. I will always fly high in the sky to bring you gripping tales of rescuers down under and the inherent thrills that come with such adventures.

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