It's true--I hate New Jersey. I have for years. Ironically, my hatred for the place became firmly cemented while I was living at The Happiest Place on Earth.

Way back when I was working at Walt Disney World as part of the College Program, I lived with a native New Jersey chick. She was the oldest of my six roommates, and, frankly, the scariest. There were six of us in all living in that really nice (but not $65/week each nice) apartment. The place had three bedrooms, no TV, a bare bones kitchen, and was part of a gated community with two pools. The furniture was your typical crappy rental furniture, but since we were all broke college students, it seemed a little like paradise.

From the outside, our apartment looked REALLY nice, but on the inside? TRASHED. New Jersey Beyotch seemed to think that the other five of us were her cleaning ladies. She would cook pound after pound of fried chicken and then leave the mess all over. There would be grease splatters on the ceiling, the floor, the counters, and she would leave them there right up until the next time she cooked. She left dirty clothes strewn all over the place, and the saying about being neat and cleaning the seat? Yeah, she had never heard it.

Sooooo gross.

As time went on, my roommates and I became divided into two groups. Myself, Shannon, and Kiki were the "good" kids and more than overjoyed just to be working at Disney World. The other three seemed to be a little bitter about something or other, and New Jersey Beyotch was a LOT bitter about something or other. Us Good Kids would debate how she managed to get past the interview process in the first place (grueling, and it included a personality test), and truly became confused one day after I picked up the mail.

We only had one mail key amongst the six of us, so it sat on the kitchen counter. As the awesome roommate that always worked nights at Mickey's Character Shop, I usually woke up around 10:00 and headed out to get the mail. The very second I saw the postcard confirming New Jersey Beyotch's reservation at a hotel that featured hourly rates, I called one of my roommates. Words cannot describe how over-the-top and nasty the information we found on the place was, in fact, heart-shaped beds is probably the only blog-friendly detail I can share.

I'm pretty sure Mickey would not have approved.

While she was far from a considerate roommate, or even someone we could "get," her most over-the-top rude thing was directed straight at me. I had traveled to Florida to work at Disney World knowing that at some point I would have to make a trek to North Dakota to say a final goodbye to my mom. Her breast cancer had returned, more aggressive than ever, and had evolved into bone cancer. The bones in her neck had been eaten away so badly that she wore a brace in order to stay alive, and it was really just a matter of time before her body completely gave up.

This knowledge in hand, I had carefully taped a note on the kitchen cabinet by the phone. It simply asked that if anybody from North Dakota called for me, that they please be given my work phone number. This was long before I gave in to the wonder that is cell phones, so I just needed the North Dakota caller to be able to reach me if I happened to not be at the apartment.

New Jersey Beyotch, upon seeing the note, ripped it off the wall, threw it at me, and told me she wasn't doing anybody any favors. There were some other words in there, but that's the crux of it. While I can certainly be pretty feisty and am more than able to defend myself, it was a VERY one-sided attack.

One of the Good Kid roommates, upon witnessing the display, immediately stormed to the main offices of the apartment complex and demanded that the roommate be removed from our apartment. Of course, the Disney Way is to try to work through problems, so the next day we all gathered together with a counselor to try to work things out.

It took 1.2 seconds of New Jersey Beyotch talking before the counselor made his decision. We were split up. The Good Kids (including me) went to one apartment, and the other three went into another.

While I was home attending my mom's funeral, New Jersey Beyotch was fired for speaking inappropriately to a Guest. One of the girls that had sided with her when the apartment split into cliques was fired for shoplifting while at work. The third decided she didn't want to switch apartments again (nobody got an apartment to themselves) and went home without completing the program. Karma, I guess.

Anyway, New Jersey Beyotch has forever tainted New Jersey for me. Forever.