This Can't Be Good...

The Roommate. The single most dreaded aspect of college life for many incoming freshman.

First, you get a name. In the mail, at orientation... somehow, the name comes. In my case, there was a phone number along with the name. But on the day that little paper of fate blessed my mailbox, I had little knowledge of it's importance. Instead of opening the envelope bearing "No, It's Not UGA" University's letterhead, I took a nap. Imagine my confusion when I was awakened by a phone call, from the roommate herself.

"Hello?"
"Hey... it's [name here]...?"
"Oh... Hi?"
"Your... roommate?"
"OH! Hey!"
"Didn't you get the little paper of fate in the mail today?"
"It's... possible."
[discussion follows about who would bring what for the room.]

No, she didn't say "little paper of fate." But she did ask. I felt stupid. And that was when [name here] learned her first thing about me: I like to take naps.

Next, thanks to the magic that is facebook, you are able to get a nice snapshot of who your future best friend exactly is. I was able to enjoy this experience tonight, and I can't help but wonder what it all means (or what she thinks about my profile).

Profile Picture: [name here] posing happily with two friends. That's nice. She has friends. Wait. What's that? Oh! They're drinking something. Good. I like drinking liquids, too. This is great. Oh, that's funny, her can is silver... and blue. Hm. Maybe it's... Pepsi? Oh, hold on. The friend in the middle's holding a huge QT style plastic cup of light brown liquid. That says "Big Ass Beer." Ah-HA! Yeah, that's cute.

Stats: Ah, looks like [name here]'s in a relationship. Let's hope they like to talk to each other every hour I'm sleeping. And... oh, boy. She's "Liberal." Better break out the Ann Coulter books. Seems she likes every kind of music (so she won't have a problem with Coldplay?) and has no favorite books, saying she "only reads magazines." Heck, I like books enough to be an English major.

I'm starting to think we're not so... compatible.

So what's the next step? Who knows. I wrote on her wall. I think we need a cabinet or something for the TV (that she's bringing), so I thought I might offer. It's just bizarre, really. This person who probably can't pronounce my last name will know intimate details about me and how I live by Labor Day.

Man, I love growing up!