 Room Mates From Hell and Those Who Hate Them Ah, it’s that time of year again. When the faint sound of students bustling to the library grows to a roaring stampede for one of the coveted study spots, when the ringing sound of cash registers dance to the plastic tune of credit cards, and when the weather is cold enough to cause even the most hardcore of Californians to put away their sandals in exchange for shoes. It’s December folks, and that means that the holidays are right around the corner.
If it’s one thing that I’ve noticed year after year, it’s that an alarming amount of longboards and longboarders start popping up around campus, undoubtedly because of all of the gifts given over the holidays. I say this so you can all avoid the ankle injuries that will be caused by stray boards flying everywhere as people slip in an attempt to learn how to “ride.” The key danger zones include the open area in front of the WPC and the dining hall, and also the path that leads to south campus. So before you ask your parents for a longboard for Christmas, remember that you’re not only hurting yourself, but also those around you. Save yourself and those around you the ankle pain, ask for a puppy or some other cuddly shit.
What also comes with the approaching new semester is the ever important roommate change, where within the first few weeks of school you or a change or rooms. And everyone out there at some point or other has had that roommate. You know what I’m talking about. Perhaps it’s that one guy that can’t find a place in his busy schedule in between drinking and puking to take a much needed shower, or that one girl who drunkenly looks for her pajamas “quietly” at 4 A.M. in the morning, clumsily fumbling through her clothes like a nervous schoolboy on prom night, or if you’re really lucky you can get that one roommate that leaves toe nail clippings everywhere like a sharp minefield of crescent moons.
The only way you can conceivably get around the random roommate selection is if you make the wise decision of living with one of your best friends. See, “best friend” is a very subjective term; you have to make sure you read the fine print. I am pretty sure that when you become good friends with someone, one of the caveats is that you must never, ever, ever, under any circumstances, live with one another. Sure, those Family Guy jokes are hilarious when your buddy retells them the first time around, but ask yourself, do you think you could live with yourself if you had to hear Quagmire impressions all day long? I heard that using overdone catchphrases is the #1 killer in America right now. I think I heard it on CNN or something.
Either way, bad roommates are a dime a dozen, and you must be careful if you are brave enough and do decide to switch roommates, because the chances of you getting the perfect roommate are equally as good as getting the chronic masturbator roommate. And nobody wants the chronic masturbator roommate. Nobody.
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