Wednesday, July 31, 2013

I Can't Think Of A Witty Title For This...

Wanted: A roommate who understands the concept of regular bathing, does not go on 72-hour Guitar Hero binges, believes there is more to life than “Keeping Up With the Kardashians”, and can afford to shell out $350 a month. 

Any takers out there?

For full effect, download “Movin’ Out” by Billy Joel and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post. 
                                                                                                           
So I’ve got this house thingy. And yes, I just called it a ‘house thingy’. Even though I am now on a regularly scheduled big-kid diet of paying a mortgage, I can still add the letter y after any word I want and sound like I’m still in third grade, so deal with it. I like the place, nay, I L-word the place. But my L-word only goes so far to pay the bills, and so to avoid having to file bankruptcy and pay for my marathon registration with food stamps I’ve decided to find a couple chaps who want to join me here.  

Now keep in mind, I have lived with some greasers over the years, guys who some Texans would classify as ten pounds of crap in a five-pound bag. These are roommates who unnervingly trigger my personal gag reflex. There was the pinhead who never left his World of Warcraft empire and ate nothing but fried chicken. Then there was the hippie who converted his girlfriend to becoming a lesbian. There was the meathead who couldn’t spell the word Gold. And of course the mother of them all, the white boy from Vegas who was a closet drug dealer. 

Yes kids, for five months of my life I slept in the same room with someone who sold marijuana to pay for his college tuition.

But I’m past all of those wastes of space and ready to try on someone new. Someone “normal”. Someone who doesn’t think peeing into a swimming pool from the second floor kitchen window is a fun thing to do on a Saturday night. But the real question is where do I find someone who won’t push me to madness?

Part of me thinks I need to be overly picky with this decision. Naturally I am very judgmental and skeptical about an individual’s personal character, which according to my family is the main reason why I’m not married at this point in my life, which in all reality I think is just the cover story in their minds wondering whether or not I’m gay, but that’s neither here nor there. Aside from that, I think you need to be finicky about who rooms with you, because come on, you wouldn’t want to settle for someone who illegally downloads child pornography at 3:17 in the morning now would you?

For the record, I would like to make a formal statement to the Utah State Legislature, to the Federal Government reading this blog, to Baja Broadband, and to my future posterity that I did NOT have a say in the selection of that particular roommate whatsoever. I was unconsciously tied to a leather couch intoxicated with Nyquil when he started moving in his things.

But after all of these years living with hobos and hellions, morons and masochists, I think it’s really time to settle down and find a roommate who doesn’t want to inflict physical pain on small children. Someone who has been taught the art of turning on a vacuum, and doesn’t sleep with dirty plates in their bed. I need someone who can have a conversation with me for longer than eight seconds, doesn’t stink up the house after eating Alberto’s, and laughs when watching “Arrested Development”. I need someone in their twenties who knows how to cook, how to clean, and has an inkling of personal responsibility. Is that too much to ask?

You know, after reading over that last paragraph and seeing the standard I’ve set for whoever moves in next, I think it’s decided.   

I need to find a wife.

What do you think?

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