Application to graduate school. Check. Acceptance to graduate school. Check. Going insane trying to get everything set up for graduate school. Check. Today's fun: now that Christmas is officially over, I feel compelled to get in touch with people in an effort to find a place to live. Round one and I'm down for the count. Majorly.

  1. I check the university listings for nearby off-campus housing.
  2. I find a cool-sounding deal.
  3. I respond to said cool-sounding deal.
  4. I run screaming away from said cool-sounding deal.

My very first response to a listing gives me pause. Makes me think about just how much there is to consider when looking for a room to rent/a roommate. Gone, during said first response (over the phone), is the idea that the only things that matter is a decent place for a decent price, and good amenities and conveniences. Nay, there's more: one must be able to maintain one's sanity.

What's the lesson learned here? That not everything that looks great in writing will end up being that great in reality. How did I learn this? By spending half an hour on the phone today with someone who's probably borderline certifiable. In that short time, this complete stranger revealed to me the following information. Let me point out here that he considered this a very abridged version of his tale ("I would probably tell you way more if you wind up rooming with me"). Which is, to say the least, fucking scary. Okay. Here's what I learned:

He's Jewish and extremely judgmental. As in, he judges every man and woman he sees by their appearance, and whether he deems them to be "ugly" or "beautiful." It's just his nature. And he's totally straight. One hundred percent, right? Like, he only likes girls. But this one time, there was this, not to be insensitive or anything, very aggressive Latino guy who was *ahem* gay, and who was very pushy. And this guy, this good straight Jewish guy, is really nice to everyone, and just as a way of being nice to people, likes to give them back rubs. So this one time, after giving this *ahem* gay guy a back rub, the *ahem* gay guy decides it's his turn to do the massage (on the Jewish rental guy's bed, no less). And it turns out the *ahem* gay guy winds up going for the you-know-where region, which is totally uncomfortable but yet kind of invigorating, so he totally gets the best of him. So this totally straight Jewish guy is suddenly very confused, and doesn't actually know any more if he's fully straight. Well, he knows, but he doesn't really know, see? And it's all this aggressive *ahem* gay guy's fault, for leaving him confused about his sexuality. And maybe, if you wind up rooming with him, you might be good gay therapy for him.

I'm not sure what form of "therapy" the guy had in mind when he said that, but I knew one thing immediately: No. Fucking. Way. Will. I. Be. Rooming. With. This. Wacko.

At least that was an easy decision to make. Moving right along.