Welcome to 2005, or Dog Year 14,035.
Good, now that that’s out of the way, we can talk about
some serious issues. Dorm room contamination is a serious epidemic
sweeping, or rather, not sweeping, across the nation. Everywhere
you look, there’s a dirty sock or a slice of pepperoni… on
the ceiling? Yes sir, these messes aren’t restricted by
I remember the day back, oh, four months ago, when my room
was clean. This was, of course, before I moved in. Maybe
say before my roommate moved in, because, no matter whom you
ask, it’s never THEIR fault. No sir, it’s their roommate.
But in my case, it’s true. No, really, that’s NOT
my tidy-whiteys in the fridge. No, really, I mean it. Whose are
I consider myself lucky when it comes to my roommate, because
despite the abnormal growth on his shoulders (he says it’s
his head, but I know better), he’s an OK guy. Especially
when you compare him to the people on death row. I mean, those
guys do NOT know how to keep a cell clean.
A huge problem caused by all the junk on the floor stems from
having different wake-up times. For example, on the days that
I don’t get up early, my roommate does, and viceversa.
The problem is that pulling the clothes that you want to wear
off the floor causes the rubble that’s built up on top
of them, usually six cans and assorted wrappers, to rattle around,
and this generally pisses off whoever is still trying to sleep.
Fortunately, when you want to throw something at the jerk who
woke you up, ammo is readily at hand. Sometimes it’s still
filled with sugary goodness, too!
One of the banes of my existence here at the pseudo-dorms is
the dry policy. I don’t understand how a school in Hawai‘i
can have dry dorms. I mean, I go to the beach ALL THE TIME, and
I have to wait outside in the sun until I dry off. Frankly, I
think I pay too much money to have to listen to such bogus rules.
It’s been two months since my last shower, for pete’s
sake! Thank god for Lysol. That stuff’ll get the stink
off you real quick.
But seriously, it’s a good thing that we can’t shower
in here, because the shower itself is NASTY. I guarantee they
don’t make grout in this color. And they sure as heck shouldn’t
make tiles in this color.
But it’s not just the shower itself that’s disgusting.
Whoever’s hair is in the drain SERIOUSLY needs to get a
new stylist, cause that color is so 2004. Besides, with split
ends like that, they really should be using a revitalizing conditioner.
Not to mention the frizz!
I guess after living here for four months, though, I’ve
come to like the place well enough. I’ll miss the crunching
noise whenever I move around the room, the sweet perfume of spilled
milk—from last week. The chittering of rats has been keeping
my up lately though. If only they could just keep it down a bit.
But I still want to know, whose underwear is in my fridge?
be my roommate’s fault.