Monday, March 16, 2009

The Shit Has Hit The Fan

College. Dorms. Laundry Duty. Yep, we had all these things planned out. (I, being late to jump on the Roomie Wagon, missed out on choosing the "chores" such as: Cooking...forcing other people to eat what you just made and if they don't they're considered rude and fights will erupt, feeling will be hurt, and rotten eggs will eventually be swallowed, is NOT a chore. Dusting...who even owns a duster? Exactly. No one. Fifty-year-old women maybe, but 50-year-old women are not going to college. So whoever called "I got dusting!" as your "chore," I'm on to you. Blockbuster entering...Now, you may have never heard of this chore, which is perfectly alright because neither had I until I was politely explained as to what exactly it is. It's driving to Blockbuster Video Store, "entering" through the doors, and renting a movie. OH, WHAT A CHORE! THANK GOD I DIDN'T GET STUCK WITH THAT ONE! I already rent SO many movies in my free time, why would I want to bring that nasty habit with me to college? It's COLLEGE, PEOPLE. I am just so happy that I'll have someone else picking out the movie every time we all decide to watch one. Since, you know, I just HATE choosing what to watch. You have to LOOK EVERYWHERE and your eyes get all tired and sore and you're squinting non-stop to see the TITLES and then you have to REACH all the way to the damn movie case and you have to RETRACT your ARM then you realize it's the case BEHIND the one you just grabbed and you have to reach BACK and by then you have CRAMPS in your ARMS and thank GOD that's not me with that chore. So the chore I ended up with? Toilet duty. Typical. I just want to know how "Coffee Duty" differs from, "Blockbuster Duty." Here I am I'm hearing, "You can't have Coffee Duty that's not even a real thing it's whoever gets up first that makes the coffee and it's not even hard to make coffee." SINCE BLOCKBUSTER DUTY IS A REAL THING. SINCE OTHER DORMS SURELY HAVE SOMEONE WITH BLOCKBUSTER DUTY. SINCE IT'S SUCH A CHALLENGE PICKING OUT SOMETHING YOU WANT TO SEE AND YOU DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHETHER WE WANT TO SEE IT OR NOT CAUSE YOU'RE THE ONE DEEMED THE DUTY AND YOU CAN FORCE US TO WATCH ANYTHING EVEN IF IT SUCKS AS BAD AS "VANILLA SKY".)

No, but I was excited. Got the roomies picked out! Super cool gals who I could definitely live with without wanting to strangle them. I probably have strangling tendencies for reasons other people don't, though, which helps me in the long run.

Reasons to Strangle A Roomie:

1. They are boring.
2. They never speak.
3. They giggle at stupid shit and don't laugh when YOU say something witty and hilarious.
4. They drink your drinks.
5. They drink your drinks and then when confronted about it say, "I didn't drink your drinks."
6. Even when you say, "I know you drank my drinks." They still say, "I didn't drink your drinks. Somebody drank your drinks, but it wasn't me who drank them." 
7. Even when you give up and say, "Fuck it," they still say, "I didn't drink your drinks," and since you just calmly dropped it, the next step would not be where you were previously, but straight to sudden anger, because that's the next step in angry-calm-enraged, to which you would say, "I KNOW YOU WERE DRINKING MY DRINKS BECAUSE YOU DRANK MY DRINKS YESTERDAY AND I SAW YOU DRINKING THEM." to which they would now say, "Fuck it. I drank your drinks."

Any of those above reasons would make me mad enough to get physical, but that would never happen with my future roomies. First, they are never boring and always speak, and second, they have jobs. So they can buy their own damn drinks.

So everything was picture perfect. Chores set up. Lay-out being planned. Friendship in the making. Then what happens? I get an e-mail.

It was an e-mail just like any other. Except that it was in a tiny window on the screen, so I kept having to scroll down to read the next sentence. You can imagine how suspenseful this must have felt.

To Natasha Ferrier-

Ooh! My first COLLEGE e-mail! Ooh! Scroll.

We are pleased to inform you that you will be living on the UTC campus for the 09-10 year.

Ooh! Campus! Ooh! Inform! Ooh! Scroll.

You will be living in the Montague building.

Ooh! Romantic! Ooh! Wait...that wasn't the building I requested. Scroll.

Your roommates are listed below:

At least I'll be with my friends! Scroll.

Tess Arnold

Who the hell is Tess Arnold...scroll! scroll!

Zoey Stone

Who the HELL is Zoey Stone?! SCROLL! SCROLL! SCROLL!

Norah Myers


So immediately I call up one of my "supposed to be roomies." (Okay, so that wasn't "immediately" what I did. I confess. What I "immediately" did just then was look up my new roomies on facebook. What? Curiosity killed the cat, DUH.)

Tess Arnold: Had a facebook with no comments whatsoever and two pictures. Two of those "mirror" pictures. You know the ones. You stand in front of a mirror and take a picture of yourself. It's what really cool people do. Like, REALLY cool people.

Zoey Stone: Didn't even HAVE a facebook.

Norah Myers: Friended ME first. It's been 4 weeks since I messaged her and she has yet to reply.


So I pop my buddy a ring. 

"Hey Willow? It's Natasha."

"Hey! What's---"

I went for the "let's make this as dramatic as possible" approach.

So did Willow.

"I'm rooming with 3 random chicks. One of them DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A FACEBOOK."

"Well we know SHE'S a loser."

"EXACTLY. Probably some home-schooled Mormon FREAK."

"Who's never had a job."

"Who will drink my drinks ALL the fucking time."

"Who isn't allowed to watch PG-13."

"Whose favorite movie is Veggie Tales."

"Wait, I thought we said she was Mormon?"

"Oh yeah. ANYWAY. Go check your e-mail and see if you got anyone we requested to room with."

"Okay...I'm checking it...Dear Willow Walton blah blah blah we are sorry but blah blah blah---"

"Wait, we are sorry? Don't blah blah blah that, go back."

"We are sorry to inform you that we were not able to give you a room due to the fact that there are more females attending UTC for the 09-10 year than the number of rooms available. We will locate a sleeping space for you by the Fall semester."



"A sleeping space? What does that even mean?"


"We'll figure this out."

"Yeah. We have to."

"We'll talk tomorrow."


So there's my dilemma. Debacle. Fan with shit that just hit it. It went from being forced to eat rotten eggs and watching Vanilla Sky to not being with anyone I requested to room with and rooming with obvious losers. I mean, who doesn't have a facebook? Even the nerdiest of the nerds have a facebook. Though this makes me very sad, and I'm going to try my hardest to fix it, at least I can choose my chores before any of them. "BLOCKBUSTER DUTY!"

No comments: