A few weeks ago when my house was hosting a party, a small hoard of CSP-bonded first-year students stormed down our hallway into our bedrooms. When I instructed the ringleader and his troupe to leave our very clearly not “party-space” bedrooms, he responded, “Fuck you, bitch.”
I didn’t know how to respond. This shell-less hermit crab exhibited truly vile audacity.
My beloved housemates and I have made it abundantly clear that this hangnail of a human shall never enter Skate House again. So, in my endless generosity, I have crafted a list of things that this still-water mosquito can do on a Saturday night when he finds himself not at our parties. What can I say? I’m a giver.
Clean your all-white sneakers with a bleach stick
Watch a movie that isn’t The Big Lebowski, Fight Club or directed by Quentin Tarantino
Charge your phone to 100 percent
Read a book that isn’t by Ernest Hemingway, Charles Bukowski or Jack Kerouac
Write to the Los Angeles city council about installing more street lights on the side streets around York Blvd. (my street is almost as dark as your future if you continue to walk into women’s homes and call them “bitches”)
Learn how to fold a fitted bed sheet by yourself
Get into a TV show that isn’t Trailer Park Boys, Game of Thrones or re-runs of Family Guy
Try to touch your toes. You cannot because you are inflexible.
Clean your damn keyboard
Sit alone in your bedroom in silence, saying nothing at all
The glimmering optimist in me expects this broken-MacBook-charger-of-a-man who yelled at me to apologize — perhaps in list form. Yet, the prudent realist in me never wants to hear from this dirty eco-clamshell ever again. Whatever the outcome, I’ll be waiting. A folded fitted bedsheet, clean keyboard and fully charged phone by my side.
