The 4 Housemates that You Will Undoubtedly Live With

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So now you’re in second year, and you’re embarking on the happiest journey of your life: living with your well-respected peers! This year will be a year of self-discovery, long-lasting friendships, getting blackout drunk, sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend, accidentally taking part in a drive-by shooting, infiltrating a Mexican drug cartel, and so much more! Of course, there are no better people to do all of these fun and engaging activities with than your very own housemates! And because I have absolutely no creativity today and have spent the past four days reading Buzzfeed articles on Colin Firth and Canadian cheese, here are 4 housemates that you will undoubtedly live with (or ones that I live with at least).

The Suburban White Mom

“Did someone say yoga?” “I am now gluten-free!” “Aromatherapy is the only therapy that I’ll  ever need.” These are some common phrases that you will hear coming out of her mouth, including copious amounts of kale and home-made black bean paste. She has decided to be a vegetarian, a vegan, gone on a paleo-diet, taken an oath of celibacy and yet is banging someone new every other day, has a shrine of Gwyneth Paltrow, drinks red wine on the daily to hide her true inner decaying self, and is buried in succulents, rosemary, and lemon-balm. She will ride your ass for composting incorrectly – “COMPOST THE FUCKING NAPKINS, KIRA”, greet you in the morning with “Namaste” after a short trip to the farmer’s market, and pour strawberry-infused filtered Icelandic water blessed by the Nordic Gods down your throat. Oh, and be ready for the insane amount of decor from HomeSense that will constantly remind you of how you will probably never ever have your shit together.

The One I Really Can’t Describe

You know how sometimes you’ll be scrolling through Facebook and come across a video that you just – you just can’t – it’s just – you can’t describe it in any way shape or form? Like what the fuck is happening????? It’s probably how Darwin felt when he arrived on the Galapagos. “What the shit is that shitty organism.”  That is this roommate. He/she cannot be described by any adjective but their name. They will smile at you creepily from the staircase in complete silence, enter your room when you’re not at home and caress your bed, casually use your cologne in order to throw you off their scent, and can somehow live off of only Babaganoush and Na’an bread. You will only feel their presence when it’s too late, and by then, you will have to engage in conversation:

“Um…hello?”

Silence. Just smiling.

“Do you need anything?”

Silence. Continued smiling.

“I have to -”

And at this point, the being will slowly exit your room, making eye contact the whole entire way as their smile slowly becomes larger and larger and they inevitably attack you with a dull, broken steak knife in your sleep. Make sure you give them plenty of offerings, such as Starbucks gift cards or $400 duvet sheets, in order to keep this potential serial killer at bay.

The Parent’s Dream

This roommate is the child that your parents want – this roommate is the child that you want. They are 100% not a second year university student, but an actual adult who knows what credit cards are, knows how to use dish soap, and what cooking actually entails (apparently ordering Domino’s every day does not count). They genuinely study, are part of a million and one clubs, and has glowing baby-soft skin. Your parents take them out to dinner once and 15 minutes in, they have forgotten that you exist and your entire trust fund is now in their name. They have most definitely sold their soul to Satan to achieve this level of adultness. Basically, you know what, fuck this roommate, they can go live by themselves.

The Only Child

This roommate suffers from OCS – Only Child Syndrome, where they have been spoilt their entire lives. He/she has been waited on hand and foot, has never seen what a toilet plunger looks like, and has never touched a washing machine in their 19 years of existence. They are constantly crying for a housekeeper – “MIA, WHERE ARE YOU?”, pretends to not understand what cleaning means – “Wait, what do you mean dish towel or wipe counter?”, and will find multiple ways to manipulate you into doing their housework. If they see you struggling with groceries or needing help with anything for that matter, they will instantly disappear into their somehow immaculate room and not be seen until the inconvenience has passed. If they are not given attention for more than an hour, they will start screaming and crying and raising hell around the house, including uttering proclamations of insane proportions: “I am no longer drinking!” although they are very well-known alcoholic, or “I swear to God I will burn this house down!” which is actually more likely because they are a pyromaniac. Basically, don’t expect them to do shit in the house ever, except maybe one day accidentally burn it down while trying to make a bougie salad.

And you, you…you are the one who gets so drunk and high and shit-faced every Friday and Saturday and Sunday and Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday, you have difficulty peeing because you can’t find your dick.

So honestly, you’re not really any better than your housemates.

Suffer with them. Fuck shit up. Start your own gang.

I mean, might as well use the 8 months you have together to do something, right?

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