Seeking Short Term Rental- Frat House Adjacent With Live-In Poltergeist Preferred

I failed being an adult. Again. It’s worse than the time I wiped my son’s butt with one of his socks but better than the time that I didn’t change the oil in my car for six months. Tex is working in the big smoke for a couple of months and wanted Mini-Tex and I to accompany him. Thus I was charged with finding us accommodations. No small feat because the place needed

  • To be available for one and three quarter months starting May 7th
  • To be furnished
  • To be within walking distance of Tex’s work
  • Also to be in our limited price range

In retrospect, Tex should have been the one to search for housing because I choose housing based on

  1. The proximity to frat houses. My ideal living space is a soundproofed duplex with frat boys on the other side, so I can be right on top of the action. Isn’t “Baby’s First Kegger” one of the major milestones? Of course Mini-Tex wouldn’t imbibe; he’d just be the adorable celebrated mascot that the young men would nickname “Little Bro”.

 

Frat boys are the literary equivalent of living on a gold mine. They create it just by virtue of doing everyday actions, for example peeing. Most people choose to do this in the privacy of bathrooms. By contrast frat boys will take any old alleyway. Even the one that my kitchen faces.

  1. Amenities like functional plumbing are less important than say a poltergeist because how else am I going to explain who ate Tex’s lunch in the middle of the night?
  2. A self-described cheapskate, this quality is the key reason why I’ve lived in somewhat unique housing for the majority of my adult life.

As it was, Tex works full time and I am a stay at home Mom, meaning that procuring a short term rental fell to me. After a couple of false starts- no one responded to my frat house with poltergeist ad, we found a place. Tex is a fan of the apartment in spite of the fact that it’s the size of a celebrity’s walk-in closet. I mean yes, there’s a bed in the kitchen and we have to move the kitchen table and chairs one way if we want to sleep and back the other way to open the dishwasher, but first world problems – am I right? I keep telling myself that it’s training for if I ever lose my mind and embark on a train trip across Canada and have to shower over a toilet for two weeks. These are the kinds of life skills I was missing.

Also, my refrigerator Tetris skills have never been sharper, due to the fact that one of the two vegetable crispers can’t be used because the bed prevents the fridge door from opening fully. Should TLC ever pilot a show “Food Storage Wars” which chronicles the struggle of polygamous families with thirteen teenage sons trying to fit the week’s groceries into a small space, I will swoop right in like an organizational Mary Poppins, only I’d have a parachute of kale rather than an umbrella.

As much as I joke, Mini-Tex LOVES the place. He is never more than five feet from either parent. If this doesn’t cement his attachment to us, I don’t know what will. Also the “using the back of the kitchen chairs as a framework to bounce himself on the bed” is the best toddler game ever. Two year olds don’t care if they can touch three out of four walls while standing in the middle of the room, or that it was the only place available, no, the springy nature of the futon coils is what counts.

The funniest part is, I’m beginning to like the Lilliputian life. I’m trying to convince Tex that we should actually become elves and live in a hollowed out tree. We’d have our mortgage paid off in no time.

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The Call Is Coming From Inside the PlayStation

Dear Roscoe,

You are gone, therefore, the Netflix is broken. This happens every time that you leave the house. It is a fact of my life; I do not begrudge the Netflix’s refusal to work when you are not present, I merely accept it. I don’t even get grouchy now when the technology malfunctions. Admittedly I’d probably become surly if the internet broke but even then I’d just head to into the university to use the computers and unnerve the frat boys when I pass them in the library.

“Hey Guys!” I’d say cheerily waving at the young men.

“Uh, hi Mrs. Unwashed from next door” they would reply awkwardly.

After the Netflix’s refusal to function and show me good things, I turned to the DVD collection on the bookshelf, happily picturing a night spent watching the antics of Mike and Sulley in “Monsters Inc”. When I opened the package however, there were three, count ‘em three DVDs. I hadn’t the remotest clue what to do. Is one in French? Is one entirely special features? So I’m writing to tell you the DVD collection is broken. It’s being confusing and audacious with its excessive features.

Please send help or tech support immediately. The Frat boys next door have refused to come to my aid because I mentioned their large garbage collection in front of their girlfriends. I didn’t know what else to call it. Certainly forgetfulness only goes so far before your mountain of garbage becomes a collection. If they’d buy curtains, I wouldn’t be able to see the pile in the first place.

The Great Unwashed

 

 

The Student Ghetto Chronicles; Making Good Choices With Flame Throwers

One of the benefits of living in the Student Ghetto, aside from having random showers with midnight thespians, is the endless parade of debauchery that goes on in the Frat house next door.

Men aged 18 to 25 are most likely to die in an accident. This is because the decision making part of their brain hasn’t fully formed so they frequently think things like “I can jump off of that” or “This will barely hurt”. It makes for good stories, however on occasion their hijinks become too much to witness and I have to step in; “Jeremy! Put down the flamethrower. Where did you even get that?” or “Scott, I have no doubt in your capacity to jump off of your roof, I merely doubt your ability to walk afterwards- Get. Down.”

This rarely works. But I have to try.

The temperature is set to dip below negative forty degrees Celsius tonight. It’s a record low for my city.

I tried to find a photo of a thermometer registering -40 degree Celsius but apparently photographers have more sense than to work in those conditions. So I put up a picture of Elvis instead.

I tried to find a photo of a thermometer registering -40 degree Celsius but apparently photographers have more sense than to work in those conditions. So I put up a picture of Elvis instead. His young, sultry eyes keep me warm. (Photo Credit : blog.myheritage.com)

Even though the sun is still out, already the cold is becoming unbearable. My butter dish was empty so to make turnip palatable I was forced to visit the local convenience store. On the short walk to and from the store I witnessed a Frat boy standing outside without gloves smoking a cigarette. The more concerning part was he wasn’t wearing a coat either. For the five minute jaunt outside I had donned a pair of snowpants and three additional layers.

“An unfortunate day for that habit” I yelled to him over the freezing minus thirty degree winds.

He nodded and then one of his fingers froze and broke off. I might be exaggerating but he looked extremely cold.

Then turning the corner to my house I saw a frat boy waiting for the right second to dash across four lanes of traffic. In addition to record breaking low temperatures, the city also received approximately a foot of snow in the past twenty four hours. The roads have been plowed. Ish. As long as your definition of plowed includes a lot of snow being on the main thoroughfares and cars bashing into one another from a lack of traction.

Thank goodness the plow already went through or this would be impassable. (Photo Credit: weatherstock.com)

Thank goodness the plow already went through or this would be impassable. (Photo Credit: weatherstock.com)

“Hey!” my staccato greeting made the young man turn. “The cars have zero stopping ability in this. Cross at the lights.”

I hurried quickly towards my house so I wouldn’t watch him be flattened by an errant vehicle.

 

This post is a part of the Student Ghetto series. If you would like to learn more about how to create furniture out of empty two-four boxes and drink effectively before 11 AM please visit the following links

Bongs, Dirty Laundry and Elmo,

Artificial Body Holes and Bravery

This was Supposed to be about my Weekend but now it’s a Weather Report. Or an Instruction Manual for Peeping Toms, I’m Not Sure