Things I’ve Learned From Living Alone For A Week

It’s comforting knowing that this obnoxious girl has nobody to live with.

I’ve been living alone for about five and a half days now. Technically I have a roommate, but he doesn’t start work until September (lucky bastard), so he’s on an extended vacation on the other side of the country. When I first heard this news I thought, “oh this will be great! I’ll have plenty of time alone with my thoughts, and I’ll be able to catch up on all the reading I’ve been wanting to do forever!” But apparently I don’t have that many thoughts, and I don’t want to catch up on that much reading after all.

I guess part of me thought I would remember how to entertain myself from a childhood full of older brothers that insisted on exclusively playing single-player video games; turns out I remember less of that than what I learned in high school history.*

Anyway, all this alone time has left me bored out of my fucking mind. So much so that I’ve decided to write this article outlining a few of the things I’ve discovered out of aforementioned boredom (probably more for my entertainment than yours).

Amanda Bynes: Master Troll

Troll

Do you ever think about the celebrity infatuation that exists in this county?

The generous amount of on-air time spent covering the Hollywood aristocracy would make any publicity-seeking radical weep into their manifestos. This is especially true with the celebrity meltdown, the fall from grace which has become a parody of itself. The drugs, the denials, the arrests, it has all become so cliché that you need to spice it up nowadays if you want attention (e.g. with racism, animal abuse, revanchism, etc.).

Why I’m Super Mad At You Freshmen

Assholes.

Dear Freshmen,

I love you, but you’re bringing me down. Actually, I don’t, but you totally are. How can one love that which is unlovable unknown to him? I didn’t realize you guys were here yet. I even trolled your Facebook group all summer and STILL didn’t figure out that you would be arriving just abouuutt now. See, I live in this magical, far-off place called “off-campus.” You’ll visit this fantasyland someday. It’s the tits. Well, being off-campus, I failed to witness the warning signs of the invasion of the freshmen army (I’ve been trapped indoors gaming and boozing all day. YOLO). From my ivory tower that’s more like an ugly 70’s era building with a blue façade and crappy windows facing another ugly building, I failed to see the smoke rising above Evanston. I could not have known. Or perhaps I did, and wished to forget. It certainly would explain the day-drinking.

It was not until I journeyed into Evanston proper that I witnessed the extent of the devastation caused by YOU PEOPLE. I expected there to be pillaging and plundering, oh yes. After all, such is the nature of the annual sacking of this super pretentious and poorly designed city. But one can never truly be prepared for such a thing. It’s why I dropped out of Boy Scouts — their false promises of being prepared, and the diddling.

My trip to Chipotle and CVS opened my eyes to the chaos. Traffic on the way there seemed normal, at least, as normal as it can be when the roads are torn up and there are no lanes or sidewalks (seriously, who the fuck does that at the busiest time of the year, and for no apparent reason? Good job, Mayor Tisdahl.)

But within CVS I witnessed a maelstrom hitherto unforeseen. The lines for checkout reached all the way to the frozen pizzas (300% markup from Jewel prices! Convenient!) So many confused people, so many mothers asking, “Do you need this?” “Where are the condoms?” and “Who is Chet Haze?” All totally valid questions, all totally answerable, all totally annoying when all I’m trying to do is grab some Zyrtec and Mountain Dew. It was hell.

And at Chipotle, the worst crime yet. I had to WAIT for my food, for, like, a whole minute, at 2:45 IN THE GODDAMNED AFTERNOON (This is breakfast time for me.) How is there a line at such a time? Why didn’t you get lunch BEFORE you went to CVS?!?! You would’ve bought fewer $6 packages of cookies that way! Or you could’ve gone to TARGET!!! Or to a restaurant unique to Evanston!!! ALL OF OUR BARS ARE RESTAURANTS BY LAW!!!!!!!

I wearily departed downtown Evanston, my soul burdened by what I had seen. “Seriously, why did that one freshman girl buy bubble-gum flavored Trident? That shit tastes like ass.” I asked myself this question, and many others, on the long, treacherous, 30-second bike ride back to my apartment. I recognized my strife to be but the first experience of many to come, in which YOU, freshmen, would make my life slightly more miserable because SCAPEGOATING. Seriously, I can’t even imagine how f’d up campus looks right meow. It’s all the fault of Adam freshmen.

Calm the fuck down.

There is no denying your nature, freshmen. You will ask stupid questions in class. You will travel in large groups, fully knowing it is totally unnecessary and obnoxious. You will go to parties, and throw up in the corner, and then not tell anyone you threw up in the corner because oh God the embarrassment of throwing up in the corner. You will do all these things, and many more, and you will be sorry, but also, totally not sorry, because this is college and everyone before you made the same mistakes and who do you even tell when you throw up in the corner?

And we, dear freshmen, we will weep for you, we will curse you, we will roll our eyes at you and give you the wrong directions when you ask where Pancoe is. Because that is our nature. We, the upperclassmen, who are fundamentally no different than you except we pretend to know more and get away with it sometimes.

And yet, we cherish you, freshmen. You guys make us laugh. You give us stories. You fill us with hope that Northwestern will retain its 12^th place ranking for yet another year. For that I thank you. For everything else, I curse you.

Go Cats,
The Commandant

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Sherman Ave Freshman Guide: How To Not End Up in the Back of Some Guy’s Van

"So... want to go back to my place tonight?"

One of the most difficult dilemmas of Welcome Week for new Wildkittens is ascertaining whether the cutie who just started chatting them up is just a freshie looking for a friend or a sketchy character, commonly referred to as a “creeper,” who’s looking for a slampiece. By the time these sleazeballs gather the composure to approach, you will probably have downed at least 3 cups of jungle juice, played slap the bag, and polished off a few half empty beers from some random table. So here’s a few thoughts to keep in mind when trying to ward off Sketchensteins.