Random Roommates

When signing up for housing you may feel a bit hesitant about moving in somewhere, especially if you are signing up to live with a bunch of randoms. Which you should be, as your odds of ending up with someone descent are worse than the odds of staying awake during church.

Remember star wars kid? Last summer I moved in with him. Except that the boy that we all loved as a golf ball retriever dancer had decided to dedicate himself full time to supporting the Japanese anime industry instead of investing his time working to perfect Yoda's double backflip reverse. I think he was taking the summer off to find himself. He wasn’t working, going to school or having friends, rather he would spend every waking hour and more than half of the sleeping hours locked in the apartment watching Asian cartoons. This didn’t bother me tremendously. I just knew never to bring women back to my apartment and to not plan on spending any time there myself whatsoever.

One day I stopped in for a brief moment to get my shotgun. Unfortunately, so-and-so was awake and as I was trying to rush out he says to me, “You know you’re not supposed to have guns here.”

“Neat,” I responded.

“But I’m not going to tell anyone… I have my rapier. I use it to cut watermelon sometimes.”

Thanks for that comforting moment we shared. I hope there is never another one.

This latest semester my best friend, Jake, and I again tried our luck at random roommates. I got lucky and we were placed with Josh, a solid kid that was trying to better the world by bringing good looking girls around the apartment, making fun of the disabled, and entertaining me with youtube videos of cats being thrown off buildings. A few weeks later we were notified that we would have one additional roommate, Thomas, who would be moving in that next day.

I wasn’t here when Thomas arrived. But when he did, my friend Jake was in the kitchen cooking up some oodles of noodles when Thomas walked in. “Hi, I’m Tommy.”

Jake took one look at the kid. Decided that the safety of the kitchen had been compromised, marched back to his bedroom, loaded his Springfield .40 caliber XD, and sat on his bed dreading what might happen should that door open. I then received a phone call. “What is this child rapist doing in our house? I’m terrified.”

“Yeah they said that we were getting a new roommate today. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Dude, I’m moving away, like, today.”

One of my chick friends is contemplating dating some dude. She used to not like him at all but now she is warming up to him. I don’t know if this is a regular occurrence for girls to change their minds about guys. My personal opinion is that it doesn’t happen all that often. Possible explanations of why this may occur:

Guy reveals a hidden musical talent.

Guy came into a lot of money.

A third party girl started spreading rumors about how he is “not a nice” guy.

Guy recently acquired a dark ski goggle tan.

Girl has realized she is not as marketable as she thought and now knows that she can’t do better.

I am suspicious that my chick friend falls into the latter category. And of course, me being the classy unfiltered person I am, called her out on it, “The only reason you think you like this guy is because he’s your last resort and you can’t do any better.” She immediately started defending herself trying to convince me that she was better than that.

Let’s be honest though, that is the only reason that you should ever date someone. You should date them, because you don’t think you can do better. If you think that you can do better, than why are you wasting your time with someone less good? Am I right? Of course I am.

Banks

I went to the bank the other day. I bank with US bank. They are my Bank. They hold my money. The whole banking thing is very curious to me. I understand the concept well enough; I let them hold onto my money while I am not using it. Then, whenever I need it, I give people my special number and my bank gets a notification on their news feed that says they have to pay $39.95 on my behalf for a kangaroo scrotum money pouch. The thing I am unsure about is how I feel about the tellers. I get this eerie feeling that they think they are my best friends, or that they are having an affair with my mom.

“Chase, how is your family?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“How is school? Are you still at the Y?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Yeah? How about your mom? Marie? Right? How is she doing?”

“Yeah, how..do…”

“Oh Marie.. She’s great. She always comes in here right after her jog. Tell her I said hi.”

“Umm, okay, mike.” After I awkwardly stare at his chest to see his nametag.

I feel like I have a step dad; some guy trying to be your best friend while moving in on your mom.