Warning: The following synopsis and the full story linked below are gross and kinda (very) disturbing, but also kinda (very) hilarious. It was passed along by my friend and former roommate Gary. He loves Thai food. But not the way this dude loved Chinese food. I think.

A good roommate is hard to find. Barring a disastrous first semester of college sharing a triple with two Neanderthals, I more or less lucked out with the people I lived with from 18-25 before moving in with the woman that would eventually become my wife. Sure, there were the occasional flare-ups over stereo volume at late hours and dark times cleaning up spaghetti-whiskey vomit off of one another in the bathroom and at varying points thinking we had accidentally drowned ourselves in the bathtub, but by and large my early 20s was a fun time. It certainly helped that I was friends with these guys, so I had an inkling of what to expect. But sometimes circumstances don’t allow it.

The story linked here is easily THE most disturbing roommate story I’ve ever read, and it illustrates the risks involved with rooming with a stranger out of convenience, rather than with a friend who’s a known quantity but can’t move in for another month. Given the alternative presented in the story, I think a month of living on Top Ramen waiting for your buddy’s lease to end is worth not having to deal with cohabiting with a potential serial killer.

But that’s just me.

What about you guys? Any horrible roommate stories to share? Use the comments section below! Winner gets a heart-felt “I’m sorry you had to go through that” from me.

Some web-nerd really needs to design a smirking, head-shaking emoticon, because the more I stare at the internetz, the more that that becomes my go-to expression. Also, I’m seriously considering changing the name of the Wednesday posts to “WTF, Japan?! Wednesday”, because it seems like every single week some new craziness gets transmitted to us from the land of the rising sun.

This week, it’s pee-based gaming at men’s room urinals. Go ahead, read it again. I’ll wait. Get it? Got it? Good.

So yeah, in an effort to curb poor aim at wall urinals that results in messy floors (ladies, I’m really sorry for this—also, if you think this is isolated to solely Japan, poke your head into the men’s room next time you’re out at a bar or your S.O. drags you to a sporting event), SEGA has introduced video games that men can “play” by aiming their streams at sensors in the urinals. Force of stream and accuracy help achieve high scores (I can’t believe I’m typing this).

Think of it like that age-old classic of writing your name in the snow with your pee, but much more sophisticated. At least from a technological standpoint. There is nothing culturally sophisticated about playing with your own pee. In fact, now that we’ve been incentivized to play with our own waste, I think you could make the argument that we are, in fact, devolving. This was the one thing separating us from apes.

The only way this could get worse is if SEGA secures licensing rights to the Ghostbuster franchise and develops a game wherein crossing of the streams is encouraged.

I didn’t even know testicles could be an area of culinary specialty. Andrew Zimmern would be all over this.

Ok seriously, meat perfume?

From the product description

“The WHOPPER® sandwich is America’s Favorite burger. FLAME™ by BK® captures the essence of that love and gives it to you. Behold the scent of seduction, with a hint of flame-broiled meat.”

I think the best part of this is the product testimonials.

“After viewing the commercial, I knew this spray had to be mine.  Once received, I engulfed my less than satisfactory body with your cow meat scent.  At first, I was discouraged because the neighborhood dogs started chasing me as if they were in heat.  I made it inside just in time.  Soon after, my girlfriend came over.  I was skeptical at first, but when she appeared from the kitchen, double fisting ketchup bottles, I knew I was golden.  Her love of hamburgers had finally worked out to my advantage.  It was the first time she let me put my “hamburger” in her “bun.”  That night, she had it her way; I gave her the best Whopper she’s ever had, and that’s saying a lot.  “