D.VA is the worst roommate ever

It's official - Hana Song is the worst roommate ever.




I know what you're probably thinking, and it's the same thing I thought back when I first moved in; that Hana seems like a cute, sweet, fun girl who it would be a pleasure to share a room with, but that couldn't be further from the truth. The kindly, bubbly facade she retains in the public eye is a lie.
The things I have had to see, hear, and smell in the month since I moved in with her have left me acutely scarred and traumatised. People who say girls can't be as uncouth and disgusting as guys - they've never had to share an apartment with Hana Song.
I only agreed to move in, aside from my original notions about Hana, because she offered to let me stay for free. Tell me you wouldn't do the same. Well - I say free, but there's ultimately a cost more taxing than money to this agreement.


I guess I'll start with the least egregious offences first, and work my way up. Hana is a fucking slob, and I don't just mean she's a bit lazy, I mean she is the single laziest person I have ever known.
Disregarding the worrying fact that she spends all day cooped up in her room playing games, and the fact that I've only seen her leave the apartment about twice in the last month, when she does have these little gaming sessions, she snacks.
Oh boy, does she eat her body weight in snacks and then some. And what happens to all the wrappers, cans, boxes and bottles that are the vestiges of her day-long eating marathons? I have to clear them up. Yes, me. She can't even be bothered to get up and put her shit in the trash.
You see, our apartment is laid out as one communal lounge and kitchen area with the two corresponding bedrooms leading off in each direction via a couple of doors. She generally keeps to her room, and I generally keep to mine.


On the occasions where my tranquil mornings spent laying in bed, trying to drift back to sleep are halted by the strident shouts demanding me to clean up her room for her, our agreement to stay in our own rooms is broken and I have to venture into her own habitat.


The jarring transition felt entering Hana's room is not unlike stepping into a sauna; there is an immediate stuffy humidity that hits you, an immediate nauseating warmness and smell of musky foods gone by.
I'll gather up her trash as quickly as possible, trying to get out as soon as I get in, although it’s hard to even see anything in there, as the only light spilling into the room comes from her large TV.


She never seems to stop eating, either. Perhaps it’s supposedly part of the gamer girl lifestyle, but she eats like a pig. When she’s gaming, watching TV, making food, even on the toilet - she is munching on some kind of carb-heavy food item. I still can’t work out how she isn’t obese by now.

Her eating and littering habits are certainly a nuisance, but nothing I couldn't put up with. That's barely touching the tip of the metaphorical iceberg of garbage.


Hana herself smells pretty bad. I honestly don't know how she can handle being in that mech suit of hers for so long, stuck with the all-encompassing smell of herself.
We will sometimes sit on the one sofa and watch movies together, and I have to distance myself as much as possible, because God does that girl stink. There's an awful air of sweat and cheesiness surrounding her at all times, like some kind of aura always lingering around her surprisingly svelte, graceful figure.


She never seems to change clothes, always wearing the same uniform of a bright, pastel pink T shirt that’s two sizes too big for her, grey pyjama shorts, and long, knee-high white socks.


She does this thing where she rests her arm on the back of the sofa, exposing her pit and the awful, sweaty smell that comes with it. Not to mention the forest of wildly unkempt hair that bristles out from under her arm like a shrub, a sickly sheen of sweat coating it and glistening in the light..
The smell slowly suffuses across the room like a potent stick of incense, and only when she closes her arm again is the horribly piquant, sweaty odour quelled.
She scratches her butt and picks her nose at least twice every five minutes, and wipes whatever she finds along the side of the sofa or under the cushion. There's probably a museum of boogers residing in the sofa right now, but I'd never want to actually find out.
Just her being herself is smelly enough, but oh boy, her farting is something else entirely, and it's something she does a lot.


It's probably a byproduct of such a shitty diet, but Hana rips ass way too much - not just for a girl, but for anyone, and if it's not bad enough that she does it so often, she actually seems like she enjoys it; finds pride in it somehow.
Burping is something I can understand and not be totally disgusted by. I mean, she belches enough each day to probably fill several balloons, but I don't mind them so much, even though they come out in deep, roaring, drawls, I can ignore it for the most part, but farting is something else entirely.


When I'm sitting and watching TV, she'll often come out of her room to raid the fridge for snacks, and has a habit of standing against the kitchen side, butt pressed outwards beneath her lax PJ pants, and just ripping these huge, disgusting farts like it's nothing, grunting to loose another little wet pop at the end and then sighing contently after liberating all her pent-up gas that's built up over the course of the day spent sitting and playing video games.
She'll then head back to her room, and leave the smell stewing and spreading across the lounge for me to deal with.
I'm not being hyperbolic when I say this: Hana Song has the WORST smelling farts my nose has ever been subjected to. I don't know what fuels such a noxious odour, but whatever it is she needs to cut out of her diet.


The smell sort of subtly hits you at first; you think you can smell something gross, something almost sulphurous, so you sniff again, trying to confirm your suspicions, and that's when it hits you full force; the smell as offensive as burning rubber and with an odour like boiled eggs with a vile verdant undertone. But really, words fail me as to how bad it smells; it makes my stomach lurch and quake with every sniff I have to endure, and I have to endure it a lot. With gas that smells that gross, I have to imagine that her shorts are forever stained with their horribly distinctive stench - though I’d never dare get close enough to them to actually find that out.


I'm sure you're thinking to yourself that 'it's just a fart', that you've smelt bad farts in your time, and it's nothing too unbearable, but you've luckily never had the experience of a fart from Hana's butt. It's a smell so bad that it immediately demands your entire focus to it, almost trying to just work out what horribly processed, greasy foods passed through the gassy gamer girl to elicit such a freakish aroma - but enough about how terrible they smell, the thing that grosses me out most of all is how passive Hana is to farting, and in addition to that how gross they sound.
She'll lean over the dining table, hands clenched into little fists and resting below her breasts, face twisted into one of strain and pressure as she gasps and giggles out a "Nerf this!" And lets the wet, bubbly cacophony of flatulence reverberate into the apartment from her protruding rump.


They sound SO wet, too - on more than one occasion, and unfortunately for me usually when she's sat on the sofa next to me with her legs pressed up against her chest, a fart so moist and juicy quacks and bubbles out the seat of her pants, seeping warmly through the cotton, she feels it necessary to comment on how wet it sounded, how she can “really smell the meatfeast pizza in that one”, and then, after a quick moment of silence spread across her face, her eyes fixing away from me as if she’s in deep thought, tell me she feels like she just shit herself in the most innocent, singsong tone you've ever heard.


She'll stick her hand down her pants, rubbing around down there until she's satisfied she hasn't soiled herself, though by the pungency of the smell it would be hard to tell if she had or not.


There's one last byproduct of Hana's ruinous diet that I have failed to mention so far, because I've been hoping I haven't had to, but it seems we've followed the shit bricked road this far, so no stopping now.
Obviously I'm talking about her toilet 'habits', and I only call them habits as they seem to recur so often it's apt to label them as such. I suppose when you eat nothing other than fast food, snacks, and occasionally some rich Asian meals it's expected that your stomach will fight back against your reckless decisions, but hers is nuclear.
When she's not in her room shouting at her screen, or gassing the place up on the sofa, she's in the bathroom. There have been occasions where I've had to actively seek out a bathroom somewhere else due to her prolonged shitting sessions and the smell she leaves behind afterwards.


When it happens, it happens bad. She rushes out of her room, stocking-clad feet tapping rapidly against the wooden floor as she dashes desperately across the lounge, face struck with panicked frenzy as she runs into the bathroom and slams the door.
I cringe as I begin the hear the airy and reverberant blasts of gas into the toilet bowl, sputtering off wetly into little beady pops and frrts, a heavy, hefty gasp from Hana preceding the soft crackle of defecation, sloppy and runny from her upset stomach and gradually running into a stream of liquidy sounds.
I try to turn the TV up to block out the noise, but the thunky booms of pent up gas and loud watery plops still persist through the wall of sound I’ve created.
She'll stay on the toilet expelling these sounds for a good hour at a time, usually followed by her giggling and panting out a “GG” to herself as she wipes; it’s almost like everything is a game to her.


Another habit she seems to have is to forget to flush, and on many occasions I've entered the bathroom to be hit by the stifling and stagnant odour of her unflushed waste, then having to awkwardly lean over the bowl and observe the foul bundle of poop staring back at me as I fumble for the flush, praying to God the toilet won't block.


I won't go into any more about her bowel movements, and spare you the horrific details, but be assured it is not pretty - not at all, and now D.vas true self has been revealed, I hope that she'll be seen as the lazy, disgusting, gassy slob she is, after all the shit she's put me through.


She may be an idol and have fans everywhere who worship the very ground she steps on, but if they knew how she really is, they'd feel a little more wary about kissing that ground.


D.va is the WORST roommate ever.