| Inside our apartment is a picture of interior perfection that would make Martha Stewart proud. Our dishes are stacked neatly in the cupboards, our new beige carpet is spotless, and the faux-granite countertops gleam with the shine of a fresh polishing.
Outside, the landing looks like a hangover. Littered with cigarette butts, empty beer cans, and the stains of suspicious-looking fluids, the stairs tell the story of the night before…and the night before that.
Welcome to the frat house.
After a flood destroyed their old home, the upstanding young men of Pi Omega Theta fraternity relocated in mass to one lucky building, filling out nearly half of the apartments and striking terror into the hearts of peace-loving tenants.
My two roommates and I had no idea what awaited us when we signed our leases for the same building. Within two weeks, we had secured our roles as house moms, cooks, gossip columnists, counselors, and chauffeurs. Without us, the poor guys would likely subsist on a diet of Ramen noodles, pizza, and assorted alcoholic beverages. Without them, our lives wouldn’t be half as fun.
Our apartment manages to remain clean despite our fratty surroundings because of our strict no-partying policy. Thus, our place greets visitors with the scent of candles and home-cooked food instead of stale beer and sweat. But that’s not to say our neighbors’ homes don’t have a charm of their own.
Take for instance, the poster I’ve come to refer to as “Monster Energy Drink Girl.” Displayed with pride in at least two of our friends’ bedrooms, the photo could be seen as a decorative piece of art, if you can label as art a photo of a woman’s butt with a can of Monster held in place by the band of her v-string panties.
Also impressive are the liquor bottle displays above every kitchen cabinet. As a hunter displays his finest kills, so the frat guys arrange their empty bottles filled with highlighter ink and backlit by the glow of a black light bulb. Classy.
But despite the differences of taste in interior décor, we ladies feel right at home in our frat-tastic abode. We ignore the cluttered breezeways because we know that behind the mess rings the echo of nights and friends we’ll never forget. When our friends cringe at the thought of living in such close proximity to so many frat brothers, we assure them it’s not as bad as it sounds. The loud music and thumping on the walls only serve as a reminder that our friends are having a good time, and often as a cue for us to join in.
Plus, if we don’t complain about the extra trash outside, maybe they’ll let us haze the pledges.
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