>>> The Rollercoaster of Drama
By staff writer Simonne Cullen
April 30, 2007

Oh Hollywood. With your beautiful lights and big beautiful sign, I tip my hat and bid you adieu. It was fun while it lasted, but let’s face it, I’m not a long-term commitment kind of girl. We had some
great times, you and me. But I think we need to go on a temporary break. So I’ll see you in September… but don’t call me. I’ll call you.

How I’ll miss people watching from Starbucks with my friends on a lazy Sunday morning. I’ll especially miss seeing the
older gentlemen wearing a hospital gown, and only a hospital gown, wandering aimlessly up and down Sunset Boulevard. We can’t tell if he’s an actor researching a
role or if he’s just one of the many crazies. Either way, I’m surprised he doesn’t have a rollable IV attached to him—until I realized he probably
sold it for scrap metal up the street.

I won’t be missing the CVS right by my apartment building. We’ve only seen one hot guy in there… once out of the four times a week we
hit that place up for cheap water. So Tiffany and I resorted to sneaking up behind him, much like a cheetah would its prey. But alas, when she was about to make her move
when we noticed him picking up a pregnancy test. Not wanting to share the spotlight with a potential newborn Tiff at once moved on to the more promising prospect of a less
hot guy carrying a handle of vodka and some cranberry juice.

“I found myself dangling her toothbrush over the toilet just aching to drop it and let it marinate.”

Most of all though, I won’t be missing my Hollywood roommate. While no roommate is perfect—I constantly stole Tiffany’s
flip flops and left them in other people’s room and later had to retrieve them in a covert operation so that it looked like she had left them under the couch—I
was nowhere near the irritation and infuriation level this petite brunette girl was operating on. As we filled out surveys about our academic instructor’s efficiency
and where improvement could be offered, my eyes wandered over to my roommate. I wish that colleges provided surveys on how to upgrade your roommate, and then allowed you
to bitch-slap them with it on the way out.

Just Some Roommate Suggestions in General

1. Don’t Use Your Roommates’ Razors

I cannot emphasize this enough. And if you do use it and get confronted do not LIE about it! Your roommates are not stupid people.
When the blonde roommate finds brown snatch hair in her razor and you’re the only one who showered that morning—well, we’re not CSI
investigator-certified but we’re not complete morons either. Just ‘fess up ‘cause we know it was you.

2. “No Community Food” Means “If You Don’t Buy Groceries for Yourself You Don’t Fucking
Eat”

I don’t know how many times Tiffany and I had to tell her to stop eating our food. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if she would
have just bought groceries and shared them, but she didn’t. Not once. So we cut her off. We couldn’t have made it more clear: “Leslie, we’re not
sharing our food with you. Don’t eat it.” Her response: “Okay.” My response: “Okay.” Tiffany’s response: “Okay.” Next
day there’s a big cup of orange juice on the coffee table. It’s pulp-infested which means it’s not mine. It’s Tiff’s and she has been in
class since eight. When confronted, she begins to say it’s not hers, then quickly recants and says she needed something to swallow her vitamin with. Tiffany told her
to use water next time. I suggested pouring herself a big glass of anti-freeze.

3. Dye Your Hair Professionally, You’re a Mess

When your roommate dyes your hair, you notice the new hair color. But when she does her own hair, all you notice is the new hair color… all
over the wall. All over the tub. All over the shower curtain. And even the down throw blanket. This story is infamous amongst the school, only because she tried to deny
that the hair dye on the blanket was hers. Tiffany and I both get our hair done professionally at the salon; she chooses to do it out of a box. That’s fine but
don’t use our throw blankets as your smock and then say you didn’t dye your hair in the room. When the bathroom looks like a chemically-imbalanced Picasso
painting, rest assured we’re going to call you
on your bullshit.

4. Don’t Be Cheap, Just Buy the Toilet Paper

Towards the end of the semester the toilet paper supply had diminished significantly. Tiff and I would have gone out and bought some, but we
were tired of it and wanted her to contribute to the room in some way, besides redecorating our bathroom in midnight black splotches deco. So we made arrangements to use
our neighbor’s facilities to see how she would handle the toilet paperless situation. Ten minutes later when I asked what she used, she told me she didn’t go
to the bathroom that morning. I just looked at her underpants lying on the floor and thought, “Well, that solves that gross mystery.”

5. When Indoors, Please Use Your Inside Voice

No one cares that you saw Eric McCormack. No one. I promise. I saw Brad Pitt at a stoplight in his Range Rover and never told
anyone—you know why? Because a celebrity story should start with the words, “Guess who I fucked?” and not, “Guess who I saw at the movie matinee
with his Canadian family?”

6. Only 2-Year-Olds are Allowed to Smack Their Lips While Eating

Seriously. You woke me up in the morning at least twenty times eating cereal and smacking your food and lips like a small toddler. Smack smack smack. Smack smack smack. Slurp. Smack
smack smack. Smack. Enough already! Who taught you how to chew? A dairy cow?

7. Please Wipe Your Bum… Or Stop Leaving Your Dirty Thongs in Plain Sight

The bathroom floor became a natural home for our pajama wear. It accumulated over the week. Along with everyone’s sweatpants and
oversized t-shirts came the frequent thong that caused me to gag temporarily. Accidents happen, but when your roommates have to pick up your dirty ass panties with a
plastic fork and then propel them on to your bed for you to get the hint to stick them in a hamper, you know it’s time to change your hygiene routine. There were
times when I found myself dangling her toothbrush over
the toilet
just aching to drop it in there and let it marinate in there for a few hours. The only thing that stopped me was my strong belief in karma, and even that
took some serious convincing.

See new PIC posts via Twitter, Facebook, or email.

Sign up for comedy writing or stand-up classes at The Second City - 10% off with code PIC.