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Alright HUMUNGOUS update.
On Friday afternoon, I was taking some stuff back home this weekend since finals are so close and I really just want to be able to throw everything I can in my car on that last day and get the hell out. So I empty my bookshelf, which has both mine and his stuff on it. I pick up his books and DVDs and stuff and put them on the floor, pick up some stuff off the top of the bookshelf and put that on the floor, then throw my shit in a duffel bag and move the bookshelf out to my car.
Later in the day I was coming back from getting lunch and I hear my name being called from across the walkway between the dorms and then I hear this, "We need to talk about that bookcase." I'm like, alright what's the deal. Here's how it played out, he'll be in bold:
"Me and my mom both think that is my bookshelf"
"*dumbfounded* Why?"
"We have one just like it at home"
"Well then if it's at home why do you think I have it?"
"*angry look* Because they came in a twin set"
"Dude, that bookcase is mine I brought it from home."
Then he started talking about why his stuff was on the floor, and how he had some hot sauce or something and how it has a crack in it!
"I was talking to ____ (his girlfriend) and she agreed that I could charge you with destruction of property."
"Is it destroyed?"
"*angry look*...No, but if you touch my stuff again I can charge you with destruction of property."
Then we got in this hour long bitchfest right outside where he told me that "friendships are like a business, it's sad but that's the way it is" and how I need to get counseling because apparently I'm in an unhealthy relationship with my girlfriend because according to him I don't hang out with other friends enough. He kept telling me how I turned my back on all my friends by being with my girlfriend blahblahblah, then some crap about how he has goals blahblah, and that I only have a better GPA than him because blahblahblah, and how he knows my situation perfectly blahblah, until finally I was entirley too stressed out by the whole situation that I told him to do the world a favor and kill himself, then I flipped him off and walked inside, punched out a small window in the staircase and went to cool off. All in all the conversation solved nothing, except to destroy all possibility of ever even wanting to see each other again, which I don't disagree with.
After I thought I had sufficiently cooled off I went straight up to my RA, who's way too awesome, talked to him about the situation and how I felt I couldn't live with him any more because either I would end up kicking his ass, or he would end up kicking mine. So he talked to the hall coordinator of my building, found me a single room a few floors up and I'm moving in tomorrow when I get back on campus.
The good news is that since I ripped him apart about his Xanga he hasn't posted in it yet.
Good fuckin' riddance! The problem is solved, I'm moving out.
As a hilarious side note, here's a couple quotes that I've gathered from him since this year:
"I don't believe in history."
"Girlfriends don't get any preferential treatment."
I'll have more once I clear my head again, typing this has got me all riled up.
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the·o·ry - a working hypothesis that is considered probable based on experimental evidence or factual or conceptual analysis and is accepted as a basis for experimentation.
faith - Belief that does not rest on logical proof or material evidence.
- Merriam-Webster's dictionary
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