So we got a new roommate.  He’s clean.  Organized.  A graduate design student.  He’s even from the same area as I am and we had a lot of mutual friends during our undergraduate days.  He’s funny, talented, witty, and maintains an obscene amount of websites dedicated to various things myself and our other roommate are interested in (he writes a comic, has written graphic novels, has an indie “rawk” blog, and is a decent photographer/documenter).  Shit.  He even has a dog named Nico who is the best dog ever.

Alas, every rose has its thorn.  Neither myself nor my other roommate, Kris, could have expected the bathroom explosion that we were subject to this morning.  No, I’m not talking about prolonged showers or bowel movements that infest the entire apartment.  It appears that our new roommate maintains a toiletry shelf as extensive as his online endeavors:

I mean, seriously?  I count 3 different types of deodorant and 3 different types of cologne.  Does each one have a matching partner?  Or are there a few different combinations?  ”Well, I can’t wear the “Polo Sport” today since I already applied the “Degree Fresh Mountain Mist” deodorant…”

My hope is that we get to experience a new roommate body scent every day.  If he can wear any combination, I’m looking forward to a rotating scent every 9 days (each deodorant accompanied by each cologne for a new – doubtlessly intoxicating – scent).  Seriously.  This is some borderline Sex Panther in Anchorman shit going on in our bathroom.

I’m appalled.