Chased a wild boar out of my apartment today. Hello shitlords and shitladies! A year ago, I had to deal with a greasy, slovenly obeast roommate. I was able to weasel my way out of that awful apartment and go about life living at a second place with nice people (paying two rents was bullshit but...hams gonna ham, and working more hours was worth not having to come home to two ton Tessie) and I thought that was the last time I'd walk into my apartment and see a butter barge.  However, I was wrong.  My roommate now is a normal-BMI girl. Not a shitlady, but not a fat; she has healthy eating habits and we run together so I don't see her blimping up. UNFORTUNATELY, her cousin had a job interview this weekend in our city, and just sort of invited herself to stay with us. I didn't know that this cousin existed, till I walked into my place and saw it rutting through my refridgerator.  "Uhhh...hello?" I said. It nodded a hello (nevermind that I'm its host...) and kept on making some sort of beetus scramble. I raised my eyebrows at my roommate, who we'll call Lana. Lana pulls me into her room and says, "Oh my god, I am so sorry. She literally showed up at my doorstep yesterday afternoon. She'll be out by 1 and will leave my key under the door. I am so, so sorry. I will make it up to you!"  Fair enough. I don't even care enough to ask the beast's name, because I hope that after my morning shift, I'll never see it again.  I come back from work at 3, eager to rest for an hour before going to my other job (poor college kid trying to save up a bit this summer). I open my door and THERE IT IS. SLEEPING ON MY SOFA.  I look over the dining room table, and see all of its purse shit strewn about. I can read from its license that it is 25 years old, 5'3", and 170 lbs. I call Lana: "Hey, uh, your cousin is still here, passed out on the couch," and then my eyes drift to the kitchen, "and she trashed the kitchen."  "WHAT!" Lana shrieked. "SHE SAID SHE WAS GOING BACK TO HER HOMETOWN. SHE SAID SHE HAD ALREADY LEFT."  "Well, what do you know,  she lied," I hummed, obviously angry.  I hung up the phone, after Lana said she'd make her leave. Back to the living room I went, where I tapped the beast's shoulder. (Did you know you can buy literal GALLONS of Purell on Amazon? Because you can.) "Hey," I tell it, trying not to be an asshole, "so I leave for my second job in 45 minutes, and because Lana is going to be out of town tonight, and I won't be home till after 2, I need you to be out by when I leave. Do you need help gathering your stuff."  It sort of sneers at me, "Well, I'm not actually leaving today, because I'm really tired."  "No, you are leaving today. You're not on the lease, and you can't be here alone."  Lana calls the beast then, as I go do my hair and makeup for work (I work at a bar where the girls are encouraged to dress up to make more money...more shitlord stories to follow...I fucking love my job.) SOMEHOW Lana makes the beast leave. It's obviously upset, as it grunts around, chins shaking, as it gathers its shit. (A $60 makeup pallet? But you won't fucking eat less???) Just before it its the road, it goes into Lana's room and takes out A BUNCH of dirty dishes it used. Instead of washing them, she just puts them in the sink.  She slams the door without a word.  Later, I noticed she used two of my eggs in her beetus scramble.  FUCKING HAMS. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT. Edit: I typed this yesterday, but fucked up changing the title. I have been 24 hours ham-free, and it has been glorious.