It’s safe to say that my room is the place to be. Not
because it’s nicer than the other dorms, because it’s not. I’m sure you’re
wondering, well if it isn’t better, than why do people hang out there even when
you’re not there. In all of my modesty, I humbly say that it is because I live
there… definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the fridge or the 40”
television or Xbox live. That’d be crazy.
Anyway, I’m pretty sure that other people are in my room
more than I am. Seriously. First semester at college I was always out and about
and committed to 32.4 clubs or activities (yes, 32.4, back off, you don’t know
my life!), and I’d walk in and Terry and my friend Dave and Tom would be
sitting with my roommate on our two beds. I’d walk in and get a little upset at
them. They come in my room, they sit on my bed, but they DON’T eat my food? I
told them that I wanted it gone, I have too much for my own good. My poor
mother thinks that I’m starving at school, forgetting that I have a meal plan.
One time in particular, I was going to hang out with some
people on a Friday or Saturday Night, and I come back to sit down and go to
bed. I opened the door and there were nine people in my room. Nine. At this
point, this was the greatest number of people I had had in my room ever, and I
couldn’t believe it. Funny thing is, I lock my door. My roommate had allowed
one to come in and watch a movie with “a few friends.” I’m not sure if he
realized that “a few friends” meant nine. But whatever, they were watching The Producers, a personal favorite of
mine. So… I couldn’t go to bed. They did however drink some hot cocoa and eat
some food so it was all good.
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