Freshman Realizes Deep Hatred of Roommate

Pictured: The freshman on move-in day, in happier times.

Evanston, Il.- Upon listening to his roommate loudly Skype with his best friend at Cornell for two hours while he was trying to study, Weinberg Freshman Mark Ellis discovered that he actually never liked his roommate.

“He is just a real piece of trash,” Ellis said after coming to terms with his realization. Ellis’s discovery comes after nearly seven months of attempting to be his roommate’s, Medill Freshman Brandon Ruiz’s, best friend.

“All he does is eat Wings Over while playing

Ermahgerd Recruitment: Your guide to translating and understanding Sorority Rush

Diversity!

Sorority recruitment is very chaotic. Sometimes it’s difficult to see clearly through the thick pink cloud of estrogen, and it can be hard to hear over the dull roar of WHAT’S YOUR WINTER BREAK WHAT DORM PWILD TELL ME ABOUT YOUR BOBB WHAT CLASSES HAVE NEW TRIER WHERE DO YOU ROOMMATE MY VALUES INCLUDE THE BAY AREA.

So that’s why I’ve got your back. Shit usually goes down something like this:

An RA-Resident Text Conversation from Residential Services’ Hell

The Strangely Articulate Inner Monologue of My Drunk Roommate

Oh my, I seem to be rather intoxicated. I don’t recall this hallway being so long—or quite so blurry. My journey back from that delightful fraternity gathering was a trying one, indeed! Ah well, here we are at my dormitory. Room 204. Splendid. Now if I could just fit the key into the lock…hm, how peculiar my fine motor skills seem to be failing me at this moment in time. I suppose that 9^th Jolly Rancher shot was not one of my brightest ideas! Ha! Ha! Wait…I think I hear my lovely roommate coming to my assistance. I should probably immediately notify her of my current state of intoxication!

Sherman Ave Freshman Guide: Your Dorm Room

This is probably how you want your dorm room to look.

This is probably not how your dorm room is going to look.

Sherman Ave Freshman Guide: Living in Bobb

Not pictured: Gameday Morning Shots

HEY PARTY PEOPLE! For all the Wildkittens lucky enough to see “Bobb” or “McCulloch” on their housing assignment: congratulations and welcum to the good life.

Every freshman experiences a whirlwind of emotions when they get their housing assignment (Ayers CCI? Well that’s some shit). Regardless of whether or not you wanted to live in Bobb, you’re probably familiar with its reputation. So now you’re pissing yourself with excitement or fear. Or both.

Sherman Ave Freshman Guide: A Step-By-Step Guide to Your Laundry

Try not to think of everybody and their pledge mom hooking up on these.

Listen up. If you’re over 18 and your mommy still does your laundry, you’ve probably realized by now that you’re going to be SOL in the big scary world.  Hey, it’s okay – at some point in your life, Momma stopped brushing your teeth, washing your hair, wiping your ass, and all the other things that kept you fresh-smelling and somewhat socially acceptable.[1] You’re gonna learn to do laundry on your own, too, because the ability to remove Svedka and BO from your clothes is a basic function of self-sufficiency and personal hygiene.

So you’ve taken the first step and decided you don’t want to grow up to be Buster Bluth. But if you ask your friends how to do laundry, they WILL remember for the next four years[2] and they will tell the hotties at da club and the hotties at da club will think you’re a pampered dumbfuck (you might be) and YOU WILL NEVER GET LAID. So here’s your (mostly) shame-free guide to being the independent fucking human you are expected to be in higher education.

Before you start, plan accordingly.

An Open Letter to the Dude Living Across The Hall

Hey Guy,

You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I think we said “hey” to each other once while moving in. And I get that. You’re a private person; I am too; that’s why we live in Plex. And I realize that there comes a time when a private person wants to open up a little, and share that privacy with a significant other, be it a man, a woman, or one of those weird things from Star Trek. And I understand that too.

But I am not writing to you simply because you’re a private person. I’m writing to you because at 3 goddamn 30 in the morning, your privacy has encroached upon my privacy. Specifically, I speak of the Air-Raid Siren which you seem to be fucking nightly. And do not think I am simply being hyperbolic, because even though your room is the furthest from mine of all my neighbors, and even though my door was tightly shut, and even though I was listening to Death Grips through my headphones, I could still hear the cacophonous moaning of your girlfriend.

Update: Roommate and Her Boyfriend Still Perfect Together

In fact, they’re having sex right now.

With what has clearly been a practical joke played on you by Residential Services, your continually mopey roommate is still together with her equally mopey and regularly stoned boyfriend.  The horrendously cold weather has thrust them somehow even closer together, and you’re stuck right there with them thus ensuring your slow human decay into something they will invariably cuddle on.

Sherman Ave Freshman Guide: Dealing With a Terrible Roommate

I’ll kill you in your sleep.

Before I left for college, I had a heart-to-heart chat with my Dad.  There were many things that made me anxious, but my fears about my future roommate exceeded all others. I was terrified that my roommate would be a serial killer, a poltergeist, a hater of Harry Potter, or a fan of Fox news. Thankfully, none of those things came true. At least, to my knowledge. Although I did once catch my roommate, who shall henceforth be referred to as Phyllis, watching The O’Reilly Factor. But I THINK she was doing it ironically.