By staff writer Simonne Cullen
August 13, 2006
One of the most uncomfortable moments in everyone’s life is the day that they move into their first dorm room. No one is entirely prepared for it. Freshmen moving in usually have the sophomore honor society waiting for their arrival. Much like the monkeys in a drive-thru zoo safari, the sophomores will be there: overly-excited, smushing their faces against your car window, and attempting to open the door for you while the car is still in motion. And while your first instinct is to throw the contraband bag of opened chips out the window in hopes of distracting them while you merge back onto the expressway, you’re dad, wasting no time, has already opened the door, shoved the heaviest boxes into their hands, and pointed to a floor you can only hope is yours.
Who are all these sophomores who volunteer to move freshmen in? Who would volunteer to help anyone move in? All the lifting and sweating and endless waits for the elevator are enough to tear any family apart. The only people I helped move in after freshmen year were my roommates—and that was usually just to unload the fridge to make room in her car for the first beer run of the school year.
“My friend’s mom got him a dishwasher sponge with a handle that held the soap. By the second day, it was used to aid the making of a bong.”
Moms like to take immediate charge of the moving in situation. They’ll start shooting out orders like they’re at war. “Alright troops, all feminine products and toiletries in the closet immediately, your fathers are already blubbering that their little girls are leaving them. They don’t need to be reminded that you have periods as well. Put the beds on concrete blocks and start piling boxes on the mattress. Now move out!” And while your roommate goes back down to the car to get more stuff, your mom pulls you aside with a secret mission of her own. “Shove the fridge, microwave, George Foreman grill, and every other flammable product under her bed…. If this place starts to flambé, no way in hell is my baby girl getting left behind.”
It’s funny how every parent turns into an interior designer, no matter how many times they get it wrong:
“Put your desk by the window. Sunlight will help you study.”
Yeah, put your desk by the window so when you’re watching porn at two in the morning you’ll constantly be paranoid that the people across from you can see you pleasuring youself through your shitty curtains.
“Bunk your beds so you can have more room.”
Bunking your beds may provide more room for a random dance party, but if you’re on top, it’s going to suck when you try to hook up with someone without their head hitting the ceiling fifty times before you give up. Even if you’re on the bottom you’ll have the same problem, only it’s plywood and not a stucco ceiling your partner’s head will be pounding into. I swear to you, anyone who thinks getting banged against a bed’s headboard is sexy did not bunk their beds in college.
“Stick the fridge underneath your bed to keep it out of the way.”
Sure, stick your fridge underneath your elevated bed. That way when someone asks what that smell is, anyone in the room can point to your sheets and say, “It seems to be coming from that area. Did you shit on your comforter recently?”
“Leave a small area open on the floor to fit an air-mattress in case a friend from home comes to visit.”
Guys, I think you can agree with me when I say, if your buddy comes to visit, he’s not sleeping in your room at all. He’s crashing with the hot blonde in Hiett Hall 219, or the redhead in Trever House 411, not on your air mattress in Loserville 307.
In a small town the first night at college you and your roommate’s parents will probably go out to dinner at one of the following restaurants: Chili’s, Olive Garden, Applebee’s, or (for the parents with more disposable income), Outback Steakhouse. Maybe sophomore year, you’ll branch out to that Mexican place, but for now, these are the only restaurants in town besides McDonald’s and Arby’s. By senior year, you’ll be eating at the local sports bar where your mom will order wine that will come from a cardboard box and be served to her in a highball glass.
On the first night at college most freshmen girls pop in one of these four romantic movies: My Best Friend’s Wedding, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, French Kiss, or Dirty Dancing. The movie is just used as background noise; what they’re really doing is creating the perfect collage of all their high school friends to hang up on their wall, so they’ll be prepared for the next girl who stops by their room because they heard a line from “Awwww I love this movie.” Next thing you know it’s, “Ooooh can I see your pictures?” Which translates into, “Now that I’ve established that I like Kate Hudson, and am willing to see graduation and prom photos of people I don’t know for the next twenty minutes, please be my friend so we don’t have to do this next weekend.”
It’s so funny how many cleaning products your parents insist on buying. Aside from laundry detergent, the only things you’ll really need are a roll of paper towels and a bottle of Windex—the paper towels to clean up messy spills, and the bottle of Windex to spray and kill spiders when you find them. That’s all. Have them waste the rest of the money on better food. My friend’s mom got him an advanced dishwasher sponge with a plastic handle that held the liquid soap. By the second day, the soap was emptied out and the plastic handle was used to aid the making of a bong.
I think I’ve made it clear that the only thing worth labeling are your DVDs and CDs. Communal living isn’t nearly as much fun if you end up with three copies of Freddy Got Fingered and special widescreen editions of Legally Blonde and First Daughter.
The first guy I ever “liked” in college got married this past weekend. I was invited, but I opted to not go because that’s basically a ticket to the apocalypse—front row seats. Unfortunately, some of his other ex-girlfriends crashed it. Now, it’s cool to crash weddings when you’re a guy and can blend in, but if you’re a chick who has a history with one of the headliners of the bridal party (aka bride/groom)? Well, whatever dignity you have left is gone, especially when I found out it wasn’t even open bar.
So many of my friends are engaged right now. I have four weddings to go to by the end of this year. It’s so scary how so many of us are growing up, while others are still pairing up the last names of movies stars with their first name. Seriously, “Mandy Michael Murray,” “Nicole Depp,” “Heather Franco,” and “Elizabeth Muniz” aren’t going to happen.