Monday, January 13, 1997
STUDENT LIFE:
Mold-covered kitchens, hairy showers are the price for
off-campus living
Aaah, it’s good to be back. Once again the Daily Bruin gods have
allowed me the opportunity to thrill and amaze you. To all of my
loyal fans out there, I’d like to extend a hearty "Thanks for
reading, Mom!" Whoowee, this is going to be one heck of a Winter
Quarter!
Has anybody else noticed how crowded it got around here all of a
sudden? The last time I saw so many people was when that insane
rumor broke out in Ackerman that an all nude calendar of Chancellor
Young has just been put on the shelves. Boy, did the crowds stream
outta there! Now, on to today’s serious topic: Westwood Apartment
Life.
Long ago (last year) I used to live in a fantasy world known as
the college dorm. There in luxurious Rieber hall the nachos were
plentiful, the Crystal Light flowed like yellow wine, and the
bathrooms were kept tidy and clean (except for when my neighbors
got drunk and threw up on stuff). Now, I live in a very humble
abode on Kelton with three of my friends from my glory days in high
school (that’s Alemany High for all of you valley kids out
there).
The first thing that struck me about the change from dorm to
apartment life was the food. Apartment food is a far cry from the
delicious (not a misprint) edibles offered at the dorms. Over the
past quarter I have been able to determine my accessible dietary
options. It consists of the following:
1. The Good  this is the frozen pizzas, cartons of real
ice cream, stacks of corn dogs and taquitos and soft drinks I
manage to steal from my unsuspecting roommates. Hey what’s a couple
of corn dogs amongst friends?
2. The Bad  this is the food I manage to bring up from the
refrigerator at my home in the valley. It consists of year-old
milk, green tortillas, and all of the foil wrapped objects that
have been in my freezer since E.T. first phoned home.
3. And the Macaroni (food of the gods).
Another big difference between dorm and apartment life is the
cleaning. Imagine my shock at the realization that no longer would
I be able to wake up in the morning and find the bathroom
miraculously cleaned up by the Reiber bathroom pixies from whatever
atrocities occurred the previous night.
I tried to convince my roommate that I suffered from a severe
allergic reaction to Comet powder which results in painful swelling
of my eyelids and severe flatulence and that therefore he should
always clean the bathroom to accommodate my needs. He smacked me
upside the head with our new toilet brush. Heartless bastard. The
whole kitchen situation has also become a very volatile issue in
the apartment. A typical conversation regarding dishes goes like
so:
ME (upon eyeing a nauseating pile covered in muck and various
bits of corn dog goo): "Hey, whose turn is it to wash the
dishes?"
ROOMMATE #1: "Uh, I got finals to study for."
ME: "It’s only first week."
ROOMMATE #1: Yeah, tough class, huh?"
ME: "What about you?"
ROOMMATE #2: "Dishes? What dishes? Who are you? Where am I?"
ME: "And you?"
ROOMMATE #3: "No hablo inglés."
Needless to say, the only time the dishes get cleaned is when
every single plate, bowl, utensil or piece of Tupperware is tossed
in the sink and we’ve been reduced to eating off of PeeChee folders
and drinking out of old soda cans we’ve been wanting to
recycle.
But, I’ve got to say, living in an apartment does have its
privileges. No annoying RAs, 24-hour food availability (even if
it’s just old pickles and green tortillas) and finally living space
bigger than the bottle in "I Dream of Genie."
Apartment life may be everything I hoped it would be, but it’s
definitely an experience I’ll never forget. Have a great Winter
Quarter!