My pitiful, fatass roommate So despite reading fps since they popped up on 4chan in like 2008, I was looking for a roommate and adopted myself a fat. He's someone at work from a different department. We always got along well over the years, but were never close so it seemed like things would be fine enough. I suppose they are, but he's a colossal fucking manchild so I'm going to rant to you. The rant is long and arguably disjointed, nitpicky at times, but I don't genuinely care because I'm just angry. He's a filthy, retarded sack of vomit. Shocking, really. /s He makes us pay for a cleaning service because he's too fat and stupid to pick up after himself once in a blue moon. So I'm convinced that he's so fat (5'8"ish and between 250-330lbs I'd guess) that he has trouble bending over. Evidence of this would be the fact that if something gets dropped, he doesn't pick it up. Food, dish detergent spills, fucking beer--he either makes a halfhearted effort to mop it up or simply leaves it. Either way at least 60%+ of the spill in question remains. He spills laundry detergent outside of our machines frequently because I guess pouring a small amount of a viscous liquid into a large cup is difficult. I would have guessed he'd have plenty of practice with viscous liquid as he has obviously not been laid in many years if not ever, but I digress. Anyway, so I tell him to clean it up because I'm fed up of always looking at these random blue detergent splatters and he honest to god said, "Why? The cleaning ladies will pick it up." I shot back, "Oh so it needs to sit there for 2 weeks until they come in?!" to his credit, he stopped spilling most of it or at least exerts the massive amount of effort to bend over and pick the stuff that lands on the floor up.... Long story short, my ex left me her cat and I was away for a week before Christmas so I asked lardo to feed the little monster his wet food and make sure he's ok. I wrote out instructions on a large sheet of paper because last time the dumbass didn't give the poor little fluffball enough water. I have 2 sets of bowls for the cat; smaller ones for day-to-day, and giant soup bowls for when I leave for several days. Fat decided to leave its den for once in its life so it would have had to use the large bowls for a few days. I come back and what do I see? Well fatto has the small bowl overflowing with dry food to such a degree that its all over the cat's food mat and has been kicked and stomped clean into the livingroom over. Then, the water. I don't think he gave the cat any fresh water as his small bowl has maybe 1/4 of water left and there's a big bowl sitting next to it thats 1/3 full of water. Both bowls have cat hair and god knows what else floating in it. I was furious, but given that I did ask him to look after the cat for a week and that last time he did that he left the back door open for fucking god only knows how long with neither of us home, I let it go. For the record I tore into him for leaving the door open the last time. He just stopped replying to me (was off in the UK so he wasn't within arms reach to strangle) The cat also had a hairball or 3. He tends to puke if I'm gone for what he sees as being "too long" because he has diagnosed separation anxiety. Lardo had cleaned up half of two of the accidents and was walking over a third he claimed to have 'not noticed'. He didn't notice he had stepped in it walking back and forth and left cat-internal-fluid footprints across the floor???? Fucking revolting. This poor fucking cat. No wonder he's been sticking to me like glue since I got back. His litterbox also barely had anything in it the poor thing. I'm still angry. The Fat also has a mild breakdown when I leave a small pan for making eggs on the range since I use it every day, but then leave cutlery all around the sink like we have some sort of fucking shortage of cutlery and no dishwasher. I used to get angry, now I just put it away and continue to leave my pan where I goddamn please. He's like a giant fucking child. I have a too-expensive-for-what-it-honestly-is garbage can on tracks under the sink. Fats McGee somehow tore it off the rails, then instead of not being a moron and putting it back, he jammed it into the rails, uprooted it from where I had nailed the whole thing onto the bottom of the counter and walked away as if that was mildly acceptable. He also left crumbs, spills and messes all over the counter until I finally asked him to clean his shit up, then smiled at me whenever he did it after "cooking" as if I should be proud of him for living like a person. There was eventually a followup conversation on how he needs to properly wash his pans and stop staining all of the dishclothes and if he can't handle that, then to just use paper towels. Honestly if he didn't have a well-paying job I'm pretty sure he would be dead by now.  When I got back from my trip, the place hadn't been cleaned for about 2 weeks before I left, then the week and some I was gone, so it was coming up on a month. It was full of dust, I killed 5 spiders that had decided they owned the kitchen/ living room, so I cleaned the whole apartment because I can't live in that. I did that for the benefit of myself, my cat, and my friends who would be coming over.  I tasked him with 3 things:  1.Wipe that mess you made out of the microwave 2.De-mould the laundry detergent tray because you're too fucking stupid to leave the door open to prevent black mould from growing.  3.Buy the paper towels for once jesus christ I said the above all very nicely and of course nothing has been done... after I deep cleaned 850sqft of filth. I will acknowledge this one is a bit nitpicky, but after everything else its just an accumulated frustration. Additional Factoids He also doesn't really have friends. No surprise, but there is a small amount of pity I feel for him. He has people he hangs out with at work, but none of them call him on the weekends to hang out. Whenever he mentions doing much of anything its always with a cousin or something. For the past week of our vacation he has sat on his pc every single day. All day. Playing video games. At work, we both have desk jobs sitting, all day, every single day. After work he just sits there, all evening, on the pc, playing video games. I mean how fucking sad is that? No family to visit for long stays on the holidays, nobody asking him to come out drinking or for brunch or to just catch a movie. He's obviously not getting the attention of any women. I think he's disgusting, but want to help, but also I don't. He's a dead end of society really. He' is the perfect example of the modern "man" and while I could put the effort into training him and making him acceptable, he's not my boyfriend so why waste the effort.