Tag Archives: roommates

Living Solo


When I decided to get a one-bedroom, I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I saw myself potentially loving it and potentially preferring death. Turns out, it’s definitely a love/hate relationship.

+On the one hand, I can sing Christmas carols in August in my underwear while cooking pasta and no one can hear me (hopefully) or therefore judge me.

-On the other hand, I talk to things…that I shouldn’t talk to. And it’s not like I have a pet. So what I’m saying is I talk to my furniture, my food, my appliances, my clothes…today, this came out of my mouth: “Hey little fridgy fridge, what’s crackin’? You cold? I’m cold.” Yeah, I should probably look into getting a kitten.

+However, I get to decide where everything goes, I decided to paint my furniture all different colors—every piece of my place screams ME, which is pretty cool. I even have yellow dishes.

-I get so damn bored and lonely. I stare at walls. I call people. This has never happened before…I usually just walk into the next room and bug my roommate. Being bored together is not being bored at all. The last minute, “C’mon, let’s go to the gym!” or “Wanna go get ice cream?” or “I need groceries, wanna come?” Man, I miss those!

+On that note—I think I’m actually more productive living alone. No distractions. Just you and your humble little abode.

-If someone breaks in and tries to rape/murder/torture/kidnap me…there will be no one here to help me kick his ass or call 911. So that’s cool.

+I don’t have to share my food or my bathroom space and I don’t have to do laundry around anyone else’s laundry doing!

-There is no one here who shares their food with me.

+Any mess that is made is MINE and therefore it is not a mess, it is a rough area that is under construction.

-No one to help clean, carry things, or kill bugs?! I’m screwed.

What I need is a really cool neighbor. Or a boyfriend. Ok, fine, I’ll settle for lots of new teacher friends who like to drink.

Living with the Rents


To those of you living with your mummy and daddy…

Ah, living at home. It’s like a breath of fresh air, a complete comfort, a vacation…IN HELL. Yes, I have recently moved in with my parents after two years of living on an island thousands of miles away from them. So yes, my transition from distanced paradise to a room decorated by Mom is a bit more of a struggle than some other people have had to face.

Let me also make it clear that this situation is temporary. Just another month and I’ll be unpacking in my Austin apartment with my best friend.

But how do I survive another month?! How will I survive another week?!

No one who has lived on their own should ever, EVER have to move back in with the rents. And while I’m on that note, if you’re over the age of 21 but still have a roommate that pushed you out of her vagina, MOVE OUT! I understand that there are certain financial dilemmas that set some people back. But for the love of Netflix, I’d be flippin’ burgers all day every day if it meant my own closet-sized casa—do what you gotta do!

And don’t give me that “my parents are actually really cool” bullcrap. No one’s parents are that cool. Cool enough to have dinner with and laugh at a movie together? Sure. Cool enough to combine whites when it’s laundry day? THAT IS NOT COOL, THAT IS SAD.

If you are living with the parentals, let me give you some fantastic reasons to get the hell outa there as fast as you can:

  1. If you have your own place, you can bring dates home (for a glass of wine or to get laid, wherever your mind went with that…let it wander). I really don’t need any more reasons after this, am I right? But I do have many other reasons.
  2. You can be as messy as you want without ever hearing, “You know, it’s really not that hard to…”
  3. You can sleep as late as you want without your mom barging in and proclaiming loudly that, “It’s almost TEN!”
  4. You can be gone all night, all weekend, or all month without the SWAT team being called.
  5. You can choose what’s in your fridge and pantry…whether that means you can choose to go on a diet and be away from all your parents’ greasy, buttery, fat-filled foods (nomnom but cellulitecellulite) or it could mean that you can choose to eat ramen and fruit roll-ups all day without hearing any lectures.
  6. Alcohol. Smoking. All things sinful. Ah, the freedom to kill brain cells. I miss it.
  7. Set the damn AC to whatever damn degree you damn well please.
  8. The TV will belong to you. The remote will belong to you. Basically, the universe is yours.
  9. Any bad decision that you want to make, any horrible idea at all—you can do it without them ever even knowing… Paint your walls neon yellow, buy a pet cobra, cover every window with Adam Levine posters, break the dryer and be too cheap to fix it so you have to hang clothes all over the house, have an indoor water balloon fight, throw a massive party that ends in total destruction… You have permission…because you can give yourself permission (note: you will also probably not get your deposit back).
  10. Not living with your parents means you can avoid arguments about a) politics b) life choices c) deer overpopulation (OK, this one might not be so general). When you live on your own, you can strategically avoid arguing with your parents completely. Or strategically avoid your parents, period, ha.

I will hopefully survive the next month in this rehab-like institution, thanks to the dog (I do love the dog), the gym, and frequent nights out. But sweet baby Jesus, I can’t wait to visit the folks instead of sleeping down the hall from them. I encourage you to get out before it’s too late! Every day that you live under the same roof as those who birthed you, you lose one coolness point. I was born with a LOT of points, so I’ll be fine, but you might not be as lucky.

P.S. My parents are pretty much my top two blog fans soooo…about that….love you guys!