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Oct 26

Sorry for sounding like I’m talking through a mouthful of cock.

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It never fails- I will go to the dentist and get good and numb, but have no problems with enunciation. Then, when all the happy pain goo runs out, the swelling is atrocious and I sound like I’ve got a dick in my mouth. Fuckin’ dentist. And of course, dentist day is always the day when everyone wants me to speak to them at great length about things that they had no interest in 24 hours prior. Great.

Smile if you can't feel your fucking face.

So after 2 hours at the dentist, dick-mouthed and cranky, I got to do apartment showings for on-campus housing. Most people, if they’re being perfectly honest with themselves will recall their first college apartment as the closest they’ve ever come to being homeless without actually being homeless. You probably didn’t get your deposit back and you delight in regaling people with the stories of just how bad it was. No judgements- everyone had that apartment. Okay, maybe a little judgement because I never had that apartment.

See, despite my abject loathing of chores, I am, and have always been, a very organized, neat, meticulous person. I have a place for everything, I regularly purge any belongings that I don’t use, and my kitchen and bathroom are not biohazards. I’m not a clean freak by any means, I just like things cleaned up and I relax better when everything is free of dirt and clutter.

I will never understand why other people, and most notably, my tenants, are completely at ease living in a pig sty.

Twelve different apartments on the schedule for showings today, all of them requiring a great deal of Q&A, my cock-hatch starting to experience the first throbbing twitches (that’s what she said).The first showing wasn’t so bad- for a bunch of guys, the only filth was the bag full of beer cans in the kitchen. The place was even vacuumed. If I were a younger, thinner, available college chick, I’d have been throwing my panties at them for how hot their clean apartment made me. The next 6 apartments? Sandy vagina with a side of hazmats suit. Every stabby-making experience from years with my own roommates is still alive and well in this batch of coeds.

Man filth, while repulsive in smell, is mostly dirty clothes and empty pizza boxes, but not a lot of clutter. Women under 25, on the other hand, are the filthiest creatures on the planet. They have so many clothes that they don’t have to do laundry for months at a time, and generally don’t. Enough toiletries to makeover a small country. Never clean the bathroom. Never clean the kitchen. NEVER take out the trash. You will always know a young woman’s apartment by the smell- rotting garbage with undertones of month old dirty laundry, wrapped in scented candles and Stripper perfume (or maybe Victoria’s Secret. Quite frankly I see no difference).

About 3 months into the year is when the mountains of clutter start falling in around them and they get all catty, or boyfriend-stealy, or moving out in the middle of the night and never being heard from again, or whatever level of passive-aggressive bitchcon they feel is appropriate for the situation. And then they expect me to either mediate for them, or let them out of their lease, neither of which I have time for. I don’t care if you do try to sick your mommy on me. You signed a contract for one year. You clearly didn’t take the time to make sure these were people you could handle living with for the long term, but that’s not my problem and now you have to make the best of it.

So for the benefit of past, present, and future roommate relations, let’s run down a list of no-nos, shall we?

Apartments, by definition, are small. Space is at a premium, especially when you’re trying to cram 4-6 peoples’ shit into a space built for 3 people, at best. Most of that shit is going to have to go in your room, so you’re going to need to invest in some organizational tools to maximize your limited closet and cupboard space. You’re going to need to assign a space to EVERYTHING. And if you can’t figure out where something goes, leaving it piled on the counter or tossing into a cupboard and closing the door really fast so that the mess topples onto the next person to open it (me), is really not showing a lot of respect for human life. Most notably, your own.

 

Not all mold grows up to be penicillin. When your bathroom has no windows and you like 102 degree showers, splash around in the shower like a baby duckling, and create high velocity spatter that Jack the Ripper would envy, it is likely to turn into mold unless you dry it up and allow airflow to keep it dry. Same goes for your kitchen. If you leave anything that says “refrigerate after opening” on the counter for a few hours, it needs to be tossed. If you do try to refrigerate it after the fact, don’t be surprised when you open the refrigerator in a few weeks and find that the container now has prettier hair than you do. Only you can prevent biohazards.

Sometimes, sucking is a good thing. Contrary to what many of you have called me to demand, housekeeping is not included in your rental agreement. You will have to purchase and make use of a vacuum cleaner. You come and go several times a day, tracking dirt across the carpets. You leave doors and windows open so fresh air can get in, along with dirt, dust, pollen, and god knows what else. Some of you have furry shedding animals (which may or may not be authorized). If you don’t run a vacuum at least once a week, tracked dirt becomes a carpet stain, those dust bunnies do become sentient, and I become fearful of stepping foot in your apartment. It takes half an hour. Man up and get to sucking.

And while we’re already anthropomorphizing filth, What the hell is that black thing peeking out from under the dresser? Did a New York sewer rat sneak in through the plumbing? Is your unauthorized cat stalking me? Oh, it’s just a dirty t-shirt. Or was it clean? Well, it’s covered in hair, carpet fiber, and a piece of penicillin pizza now, so it’s dirty. Either fold it and put it away, or put it in the laundry hamper, doused in Febreeze. The point is that no one wants to see it on the floor, and we definitely don’t want to smell it. Do your funky laundry, skanks.

Sweet baby fucknuggets, people! If you must eat in a room other than the kitchen or dining room, PLEASE bring your dishes BACK to the kitchen and LOAD THEM into the MOTHER FUCKING DISHWASHER! And don’t overload the dishwasher! For fuck’s sake, people! It’s not rocket science. Make sure that the bowls line up in their slots and you don’t have too many pots in the bottom rack, and that all the glasses are secure so they don’t shatter in the gale force waves of the wash cycle. Otherwise, nothing gets cleaned and you get to scrape the baked-on crud out of the dishes just to wash them again. If it doesn’t fit, wash it by hand. Speaking of washing things by hand, can you not leave your period panties line drying on every curtain rod in the house? Thaaaaaanks.Housework is certainly not going to kill you, but the fed up roommates just might. Are you waiting for your mom to do it for you? Hell no! Your mother would kick your ass if you left her that kind of mess! So why do you do it to your roommates, assholes?

It’s common sense and just good hygiene! If you haven’t seen your cat in a week, but that month old empty pizza box has started to strategically reposition itself every few hours, you need to take out the trash. If your room is so overcome with the funk of sweat, booze, barslut, cigarettes and last night’s dinner, it’s time to find a good laundry service. If your company needs hazmat suits to come visit, It’s time to call the Molly Maids.

Keep the house clean enough to be healthy, and dirty enough to be happy, but please- Don’t feed the dust bunnies.

3 comments

  1. Dani

    //HURL

    I literally have nothing else to add.
    Dani recently posted..All Faux Hawked UpMy Profile

  2. Paula @ thewilyweez

    College guys are the dirtiest people on the planet…and 7 year old boys.
    Paula @ thewilyweez recently posted..Scrubbing Off 30 Temporary Tattoos Takes Longer Than One Would ThinkMy Profile

    1. admin

      Any child under the age of 9 reminds me of Pigpen from Peanuts. But quite frankly, I prefer them to those super neat little kids that are seriously uptight and clearly potty trained at gunpoint.

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