I don't need sex: life fucks me whenever it can

So I am finally able to go back to the apartment 72 hours later. I get there and room mates not there. Fine with me, I hate her. So I walk in and there is a pile of my stuff in front of my (locked, thank GOD) bedroom door, including 3 posters I had in the living room, a plant stand, and my beloved larger-than-life ceramic cat. I put it all in my room, and continue to make sure everything else is in my room as well (my DVDs, DVD player, everything from the bathroom, etc) and then lock myself in til my next class starts. I hear room mate and room mate's bitchiest friend come in and stuff shuffling around. A couple hours later I am ready to leave for the weekend so I walk out and my coffee table and a pile of the rest of my stuff (not the microwave I noticed) is sitting right outside my door...can't even get out...and room mate and bitch are watching TV.

Me: "Room mate, are you REALLY going to do this?"
Room mate: "Just helping you put all your stuff in your room like you wanted."
Me: "Are you kidding?! I got back and you had a pile of my shit in front of my door!!"
Room mate: "That was just stuff I didn't like."
Me: "Dammit I can put whatever I want in here...I LIVE HERE! I PAY RENT!"
Room mate: "You still owe me $160 for rent."
Me: Speechless

Let me explain about the rent.

Room mate's parents pay her rent (coughspoiledbratcough) and room mate's mom doesn't have a bank account. Room mate's dad lets room mates mom keep my half of the rent money and then they just write the check to the landlord. So I had wanted to write checks but since room mates mom and room mate both don't have bank accounts, I paid in cash. Stupid, trusting, dumbass me. Should not have done that. So about two weeks before all of this happened I had given room mate $310...my rent for October. She kept half, gave the other half to her parents, and said I would pay the rest later when I had it. So I call room mates dad after I leave and try to work it out with him, saying I have a bank statement that says I took $310 out of my account on that day, and why would i only give room mate half if I had it all? No proof, just logic. Room mate's dad says he will just pay it, but I don't think he believes me, still.

So what does she do with said $160 that I basically gave her? Buys a new pair of shoes and a bunch of aderall, stays up all night with loud friends snorting it off my coffee table. And when I say all night, I mean until 7 in the morning. I know this because I couldn't sleep the whole time. They are very loud.

At this point I begin to think that moving to this town was an epic failure in the life of me.

Introduction

Hello.
My name is Beth. I would like to tell you about my crazy room mate. She has made my life a living hell for the past two months. She's probably the worst person I've ever met. If you'd like to continue reading, enjoy.

We went to high school together. She was a year ahead of me in school and we never met until after she graduated. When we started hanging out, we were never extrememly close friends...I just liked partying with her because she was crazy. And crazy meant fun (at the time). So after a while the girl she was supposed to live with ditched out, and then another friend ditched, so she asked if I wanted to move in with her. I thought "what the hell...no big deal," right? WRONG. It was fine for a while but I realized that I would spend the rest of the year babysitting her...she was extrememly irresponsible and not very intelligent. I never though that it would be this bad though. I've learned my lesson.

About a month and a half ago (September 21st to be exact) we got in a fight. No biggie, right? Roommates fight. Girls fight. We push each other around, we pull a little hair and scream through clenched teeth. So she took a swing at me, we shoved a little, I finally shoved her off of me. She fell back and I went into my room, closed and locked the door, and tried to calm the fuck down.

No luck there.

So I climbed out my bedroom window, leaving my bedroom door locked, got in my car and drove to Wal-Mart. The purpose was getting potting soil: my plants were desperately in need of new pots and soil, so I thought this may calm my shattered nerves.

So I get back to the house, pull in the driveway, and see roommate outside talking to two cops.

Fuck my life.

So I go behind the house, park, and one of the cops walks up to me while I was holding a bag of potting soil and two new plants in pots the size of shot glasses. Real intimidating, right? Apparently. So the cop and I start to talk, he asks what happened, I tell him, and I discover that the other officer (still talking to roommate) will be the actual investigating officer. The other is just babysitting me. The investigating officer then does the walk back and forth a few times, asking me what happened, asking her, asking me, asking her....and then arresting me.

Apparently I was not convincing as a truth teller.

So. Arresting cop cuffs me, walks me to the car. Woman cop comes and pats me down. No weapons. Babysitting cop puts my potting soil and baby plants into my car for me.

Thanks man.

Beth then gets put in the back of the cop car....and sits...on a plastic seat...and sits...in a plexi-glass box...and sits forever while arresting cop is still talking to roommate in the house! Finally, both cops come back and we all drive away in cool plastic car. We get to the jail and by this time I am crying HYSTERICALLY. I would be most of you don't know me, so you may wonder why. I don't handle things like this well. I am a very chiiiiiilllll person. I dont' like confrontation...I do everything in my power to avoid confrontation. And there I was...confrontating. And getting fingerprinted. By the way, I am now "in the system."

I would like to take this moment to say that the people who booked me were VERY nice. VERY understanding. They gave me waaaaaaay more than one phone call (at this point, thinking about telling my mom about it and then calling a friend to come and get me and loan me $725 had made me breakdown insomuch as I could barely breath) and also let me keep my cell phone while I was in the holding cell.

But back to finding $725 and a ride to home at 2:30 in the morning. Oh and by the way, I was not allowed to go back to my aparment for 72 hours. So the first phone call: Mom.

ring ring.

Mom (sleepy sounding) "Hello?"
Me (crying) "Mom? I need $725 to get out of jail"
Mom "Heather?! What?! Honey, stop crying I can't understand you."
Me (my name's Beth, remember? Heather's my sister) "MOM it's BETH! I'm in jail I need $725!"
Mom "Ok Ok..."

The rest is kinda boring.

Now, I have $600 in my bank account to pay back a friend...who's the lucky son of a bitch gonna be?

Emma: No answer
Brett (bf): no answer

shit.

Lucy: (very sleepy) "Hello?"
Me (still crying): "Lucy it's Beth can you come get me from jail in Menomonie?"
Lucy: "I think you have the wrong number...."
Me: "LUCY?!?!"
(notso) Lucy: "No I'm sorry....." (she was genuinely sorry i think)

You have got to be shitting me.

Me to officer behind desk (through tears) "You dialed the wrong number"

So he redials and I get real Lucy on the line. Lucy comes and gets me, posts $725 and we drive all the way back to Lucy's house, sharing a rockstar and listening to the Flaming Lips. Sweeeeet.
As much as I would love to say "The End," it's not even close.

More to come later.