How To Get Evicted: A Cautionary Tale

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Getting Evicted

Don’t get evicted. It sucks, like your girl telling you she missed her period level of sucks. There’s nothing cool about not having a place to live and having to bum off friends or family burdening them with your ridiculous, excessive, and disruptive lifestyle. Unfortunately for yours truly, but luckily for my neighbors, I have met this doom as I, along with my housemates, were recently instructed to evacuate the premises and join the ranks of the homeless. As much as I try to fight it, it’s hard to argue with your landlord to maintain your residence when they are getting threatened with a misdemeanor and losing their realtor’s license for allowing you to continue living there.

So, with all that said, below is how to get evicted.

First, let your parties get out of hand — like Hilary Clinton becoming president out of hand. This was the big one for my place. Everyone wants to be the place throwing the biggest ragers on campus. However, in doing so, you will automatically attract all the random, wandering GDIs and jealous fraternity rivals from around campus like swine. Scoping out a large crowd of tight-bodied, willing and able college girls will give any man with a conscious and a decent amount of alcohol in their blood an instant boner and a willingness to do just about anything to infiltrate that party. This will likely happen if you don’t have enough sober people on their game and ready to escort any lingerers off the property, usually by force. The more the pigs in blue have to be called to your house, the more watched you will be and the more your landlord is going to hear about it. I was told that my house was on the police and fire department’s radar from the start of the year after throwing three nuisance parties in a row on welcome weekend and it’s damn near impossible to get off of it. Believe me, the whole “We can change! We promise! We’re good kids!” routine isn’t going to fool anyone.

Second, make as many enemies as possible. The more that your neighbors, or anyone in general, dislike your place and the savages living in it, the bigger snitches they become. One of my roommates decided one night to exchange fists with the wrong guy who ended up coming back and hurling three head-sized rocks through most of our windows. He must’ve fought some pitchers on the baseball team or something because these rocks caused a lot more property damage then one might think. Safe to say our landlord wasn’t pleased with having to replace these and they made us pay out the ass for them. Apparently having crimes committed against you gets you no sympathy nowadays, but a hefty fine and middle finger instead.

Third, stack up on the violations. My house racked up about ten to fifteen of those bad boys in one semester. Most were due to the parties and property damage mentioned above, but understand that realtors love to squeeze every nickel and dime out of already financially struggling college students. I can’t even tell you how many bullshit trash fines we got for broken fifths and beer cans left on our lawn from the night before. I mean, maybe we were just trying to leave those cans there for the neighborhood bums to come and collect so they could return them and pay for a warm meal. But I guess WE’RE the bad guys.

Lastly, live like you are completely untouchable. Like most cocky young men, my roommates and I all had the notion that we were invincible and that our landlord wouldn’t dare kick a bunch of innocent, hardworking, college students like ourselves out on the street. Apparently a life of not giving a fuck comes with some consequences. Who knew?

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