21 Passive Aggressive Ways to Get Back at Your Housemate

1. Use their shampoo and conditioner whenever you want.

2. Masturbate with their electric toothbrush. Choose to wash it off or not.

3. Eat their food, drink their alcohol, and use their towels.

4. Buy a pet without asking.

5. Randomly scream and/or fight with your significant other as loud as possible when they are sleeping.

6. Flush the toilet when they are taking a shower.

7. Make a huge fucking mess in the kitchen (rotten food left out, the whole deal) and insist you’ll clean it up, but never do.

8. Never, under any circumstances, change the garbage cans.

9, Blast your music as loud as possible until they comment on it.

10. Move all your stuff into one of your housemate’s rooms and watch hilarity ensue. Insist that it was your room. Cops will come, but unless you signed an agreement to whose room would be whose, they can’t do shit about it.

11. Bring tons of people to your house to get drunk unannounced. If they say anything, they look like the asshole.

12. Use all the hot water before they take a shower.

13. Never restock anything, and if you do, hide it in your room.

14. Never share anything or buy ANYTHING for them because you’re “flat broke, dude.”

15. Always brag about your stellar grades, even when they’re horrible.

16. If you have early classes, set a really loud alarm, don’t turn it off right away and wake them up at 6 a.m.

17. Spray your perfume all over the fucking house.

18. Always be taking up at least one laundry machine.

19. Add ugly photos of them on Facebook, but that you look great in.

20. Talk shit about them on the phone with someone else, but don’t be totally clear on who you’re talking about.

21. Leave your drugs out in the open.

What Makes a Good Writer Anyways?!?

I’ve been an English major in university for about a year and a half now so I’m pretty much an expert on the subject (not really). Who determines what makes a good writer? Everyone will have their own wildly different individual interpretation and opinion on what you’re writing. Even little things about themselves like their mood could impact whether or not someone enjoys your writing.

Is it clarity? Is it imagery? Is it an in depth description? No. It’s none of these things. Because different writing techniques will appeal to different people.

Some people might love my writing and others might hate it. Who decides what makes a “good” writer? Why do I get high 80s in my poetry course and am almost flunking postcolonial literature? Because everyone will have their own unique personal perspective on your writing.

A Love Letter to my PS3

We’ve been together since before I can remember, must’ve been over 5 years now. I play you sometimes, but you certainly don’t mind — it’s what you’re there for. Besides that, our relationship has been picture perfect. You’re there to take emotional pain away from me, to help me escape and you always put me in a better mood. Whenever I got hurt by my family or a boy, I’d go to you and you’d never let me down. You helped me get away from it all. I’d get obsessed with you for days and never get bored of you.

You make me more confident in myself. I feel like I am actually achieving something while I’m with you, earning virtual trophies and beating countless quests. You connect me to my real life friends on a different level. You introduced me to new friends, I even found a boy I liked on there, and connected to my high school crush through you. You brought me closer to others that I desperately wanted to be close to, even though that’s all over now. You made me seem cooler to boys.

Whether I’m using my 10mm to headshot a feral ghoul in Fallout 3 or knifing a zombie in Black Ops, or customizing my sack boy in Little Big Planet, I can always count on you to be there for me when no one else is. You’ve never failed me or gotten the yellow light of death. I know they made a new version of you recently, but I couldn’t bear to give you away. You’re special.

Waiting is the Most Annoying Thing in the World

I couldn’t tell you how many hours of the day I spend waiting. I wait for the bus, I wait for my boyfriend, my friends, I wait for my teachers to start the class. I wait in line to buy books, to buy cafeteria food (university student here). I wait for my family. I wait for enough things to be angry about it. And I’ll tell you why it’s torture.

In that moment or even hours of waiting, your time feels completely wasted. You could’ve done something so much more valuable, anything would’ve felt better than that. In that moment of waiting, it feels as though you don’t matter at all. Your time is not valued by the people around you. You don’t mean shit.

You are to simply stand or sit there and do nothing because the other person is much too busy for you. In addition, they have all the power by making you wait. Your time is completely determined by them, your time is not your own. It makes you not want to be in that situation. I think it is one of the rudest socially acceptable things you can do to someone. It teaches them that their time doesn’t mean fuck all to you, and without time, what else do you have?

My First Strip Club Experience

It was my 19th birthday weekend. I’m straight so my boyfriend thought it would be funny to take me to a strip club to celebrate and got me a lap dance. Here’s my story.

We arrive at 11ish, quite drunk already. We walk in, there’s a line. Cool. We get ID’d. The dude IDing me wished me a happy birthday. I say thanks. We get a wristband and finally head in. It feels like the strip clubs in Grand Theft Auto. Only it’s real life. Bright lights, loud music. There’s women seductively dancing onstage, naked. I turn and see a woman going down on another one on a table. I get stared at a bit being the only clothed woman in a strip club.

My boyfriend suggests we go to the bar and gets us tequila shots. It’s $17.50 for 2 shots, which is fucking ridiculous. We drink it. Naked girls everywhere. So weird. I go to the washroom. More strippers talking. I leave and meet up with my boyfriend again. He tells me to pick any stripper I want, but being straight and unsure of myself, I tell him I can’t decide for the life of me.

I film the whole club and make it my Snapchat story, which I later found out was illegal.

My boyfriend picks a stripper for me. She’s tall as fuck. Very skinny, dark hair, pretty face. We go into the back of the club where there are private rooms with strippers giving dudes lap dances in them. They are all over these guys. One stripper looked like she was blowing a guy. It was like a giant orgy.  She sits us in the back room and starts making conversation. My boyfriend tells her that this dance is all about me.

My boyfriend asks the stripper “Isn’t she hot?” The stripper agrees. Awesome. But it’s their job to agree. She takes her top off and reveals super perky breasts. They’re a bit small though. But whatever. It doesn’t come naturally for me to touch them, being a straight girl. My boyfriend takes my hand and puts them on her boobs. She starts grinding on me, making all these sexy noises. She moans and mimics riding my dick, even though last time I checked, I didn’t have one.

Somehow she’s sucking on my tit. I tell her she’s really nice. My boyfriend sucks on one tit while she sucks on the other one. It’s fucking strange. I felt kind of like a baller. One guys and one girl on these boobs. It’s hard to know what to do in this situation so I rub them both lightly in the arm and awkwardly stare at myself in the mirror. I ask her her name for some reason. She said it was Scarlet. Bullshit. She probably said that because my bra and shirt was red.

She takes her undies off and sets a towel down and grinds on me some more. It was pretty crazy. When it’s over, I find out you’re supposed to pay by the song. It costed my boyfriend $200.00 which was again fucking ridiculous. That was way too much.

We leave shortly after.

That was my experience. It was overpriced, wild, mind-blowing, and pretty much like it is in the movies.

The Endless Pursuit of Beauty


It just hit me the other day at a Rexall as I purchased my 50 billionth or so hair product, this time it was a hair dye. I spend so much time, energy, effort, and money, just to look beautiful.

I cannot stress how much money I’ve spent on makeup, hair products, body lotions, exfoliators, tweezers, skin care products, perfumes, hand creams, nail polish, straighteners, hair removal creams, brow pencils, beauty pills, the list goes on. In the last month, I’ve spent about $300.00 on my hair alone. Every morning, I spend at least a half hour to an hour applying my makeup. When I’m going out, even longer. I skip meals frequently to make myself look thinner. I’m considering rhinoplasty. Why do I do this?? When will it end?!

Despite all of this, I still don’t feel beautiful. When people say it, I don’t really believe it. I might spend a huge portion of my life trying to be. I don’t know why – it has become routine now. How have I ended up so self-conscious, so concerned with what I look like?

I don’t think I’m alone in this. I think many girls feel pressured to be as beautiful as possible – to be perfect. We want to be just perfect. We want to be ogled, stared at. We want those instagram likes. We crave other people’s approval. We want to be wanted. Who doesn’t? We are nothing if we are not beautiful. It’s a shallow world, and we must adapt to thrive. It’s no secret that beauty is prized – if you’re beautiful, you will be more likely to get a job or a boyfriend or get out of that speeding ticket and be happy. Right?

There are several problems with this. For one, it is incredibly shallow. It teaches you to prioritize looks over anything else. Thinking like this teaches us to pass off anyone we might deem not beautiful enough, even if they have a lot to offer intellectually or conversationally. It trains us to ignore those less attractive than us and basically be bitches. Why close off an entire “type” of person? You are not growing this way – you’re living in your own stupid, shallow bubble, and that can only offer you so much.

Secondly, it will NEVER end. You will never truly be happy if you prize your looks or money above all else. Why? Even if you have an abundance of it, it will never feel like enough. You will hand out tons of money for makeup, eyebrow waxes, and facials. And you will adjust to it, feeling ugly if you don’t. You will feel horrible and ugly without makeup. It will teach you depend on it, always wanting more and more.

Third, there is so much more to life. So much more than the shallow, endless pursuit of beauty. There are books, animals, family, friends, painting, art, movies, nature, sports, travelling, love. There are so many other more worthwhile pursuits. You do not have to get trapped in this endless pursuit. It can end the second you change your priorities.

I Got Hit On by a 31 Year Old Hooker in Front of my Boyfriend

So after getting my fake ID taken away at the club with my of-age friends, I went home and was feeling a bit dejected. It was embarrassing and sad and I felt like a loser. Luckily my incredible boyfriend, D, piercing green eyes, handsome, 5’10”, calls me up and asks if I wanted to go take shots at his cousins house. Fuck yeah I would.

So we head over there, getting into a fight on the way there, because I had drank alcohol (pre gaming) without telling him. We finally get there and at this point we are silently hating each other’s guts. I’m in a horrible mindset and have been drinking since 4 pm, and it’s midnight.

We go to the front door of this town house and are greeted by his drunk cousin, K, who is 6’4, really muscly, blonde, blue-eyed, and his even drunker “girlfriend”, S, green eyes, brown hair, about 5’4. They are really friendly and make me feel welcomed. S grabs D’s ice capp without asking and drinks it as a first impression, so you can tell right off the bat they are going to get along really well.

We go in the kitchen and take shots. D got me some grey goose raspberry? vodka stuff and that stuff hits me like a truck. We take a shot and I’m already feeling it. K and S are all over each other, while D tries to make moves on me, I reject him because I’m still annoyed at him. He suggests rolling a blunt, him and K roll their own separate blunts while I chat up S. I learn she is 31, has a child, and used to be a stripper for 7 years, and was paid “$250 an hour to give a Brazilian wax” (read: hooker). Hmm. After learning I am 18, she is shocked, and says she “doesn’t want to be friends anymore” (but oh, she changes her mind later).

D and I go outside to smoke the blunt. After that, I’m pretty not sober. We go inside, and have a conversation about “society”. I catch K staring at my tits, which were not even overtly exposed. He states he thinks “wild girls are better to date than tame girls.” I tell him that’s very debatable. I can tell that this is some sort of competition between K and D over who has the more appealing girlfriend. So mature (FYI it’s me — my tits are real, hers aren’t, mine are way bigger, and I’m almost half her age) They are competitive as fuck. K offers me a shot of tequila, I take it but don’t finish it because I don’t feel like blacking out and fucking up my life.

D and I go downstairs to talk for a bit privately. I can’t remember one bit of the conversation. He begs to go down on me, I decline, I’m too fucked up and I don’t feel like being walked in on. We hear S and K fucking upstairs. I feel like the tame one for once in my life.

We go outside again to smoke even more. Everyone goes outside this time.  I’m already fucked. S eyes me up and talks about how pretty I am. K agrees with her. I feel on the moon, I love these compliments. S tells me we should go in the hot tub, and that I might as well “spread my legs right now”. S decides D can’t “handle me”, and D calls her a bitch in response. This is when K flips shit, yelling at my boyfriend, telling him not to say those things, that he’s disrespecting her, blah blah blah. I was a bit terrified, this guy is fucking huge, and fucking pissed. I think someone’s going to get beat up, look away, and wonder how I always end up starting fights with people without meaning to. I’ve never seen D back down from a fight in my life, and he certainly did from this one. S keeps running her fingers through my hair.

We all go inside, D and K try to work things out, while I chat up S, and hear about her complain about controlling boyfriends. She tells me her hair and boobs aren’t real, shows me a picture of her kid, talks about loving to laugh in life, and I totally relate to her in that respect.. She tries to get me drunker and gives me another shot. Again, I barely take any. We talk for a while, then she suggests going upstairs. Halfway up, I realize she’s trying to fuck me. So I ask “what’re we doing?”, she takes me in a room where bras are all over the floor. We end up going back downstairs, because my boyfriend was getting PISSED.

I head over to him and tell him it’s time to go home. Before we leave, S asks for my number, and I give it to her, cause why the fuck not.

I sleep over at D’s. He’s completely pissed, ranting about this girl, and his cousin, and saying everyone is a letdown. We had sex in the morning and he chokes me way harder than usual, wonder why. Also, S calls me in the morning, says she loves me and to call her later. D is even more pissed. He tells his cousin to tell her to not talk to me cause it makes him angry. The two of them made up, his cousin blames the alcohol. They’ve never had a fight in their 10 years of being friends before that. I later learned S was on ecstasy.

Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol  ♪