It’s a tale as old as time: the weather begins to warm, classes become increasingly irritable, and before you know it you’re trapped in a sub-oxidized 4×6 room with 17 other kids with runny noses and crunchy bags of potato chips — pure brain food — studying for finals as you feel your body continue to suffer from Vitamin D deficiency and seasonal depression despite the fact that it’s 80 and sunny on the other side of that prison-sized window.
You sit there dreaming of the moment you walk out of your last final and get to go home and black out at 2 p.m. on a Wednesday, something you haven’t been able to do in almost two weeks now. For seniors, these stakes are even higher, as you’re about to blow this popsicle stand and say hello to the next chapter of your life that will last an totally non-intimidating 40 years.
Beware, though — your triumphant feeling of moderate accomplishment will suddenly erode as quickly as your sobriety when the harsh reality of moving back in with your parents for the summer slaps you in the face like a cheap hooker.
As someone currently suffering with LPDA — Living with Parents Disease — here are some things you became accustomed to in the fraternity house that are probably no longer acceptable as you return to
prison your parents’ home for the foreseeable future:
Bringing Random Tinder Girls Over To Bang Within 10 Minutes Of Meeting Them
By itself, having sex in your parents’ house is somewhere between an art and a science. Even if you happen to have one of those long-term girlfriend things I’ve heard about, your parents probably aren’t cool with her screaming “fuck me harder!” through the walls. This is sadly increasingly true with a random internet girl with whom your only connection is predicated on the fact that you’re both single and like puppies. While it was cool to show off your Tinder prowess to your roommates in college, I don’t think your mom will appreciate the questionably-dressed girl with the nipple ring poking out handling her fine china — especially when you stumble over her name. “Fuck, was it Claire or Nikki this week?”
Judging The Kids That Never Left Town
One of my favorite summer pastimes of old was to return home and secretly judge all the townies that never left for college or seemed to make anything other than lateral moves in life. Now that I’m back home — and even though I have a real job making real money — at the end of the day I’m still living with my parents, and surely there’s some asshole out there just like me judging me at the bar for being a burnout.
Stumbling In Hammered At 3 A.M. And Blasting Dance Music Until Someone Throws Up On The Couch
Sober, I’ve never been a fan of dancing. But get me hammered and I swear to God I’m like Bruno Mars out there. Cranking my massive surround sound system enough to shake the house in college was always the hallmark of a successful night (and strained neighbor relations). Try that shit at home and your dad will fucking murder you. Trust me.
Aggressively Boozing At 10 A.M.
At this point in my life, waking up on a Friday or Saturday and starting to booze pretty much feels as normal as my grandma eating Cheerios for breakfast. My first week home, I woke up and cracked a casual beer as I booted up Fortnite with the guys. My dad walked in, gave me a concerned look, and said, “You’re drinking during the day now?” The answer seemed as obvious as with the time he asked why we were running out of tissues so quickly.
Doing Recreational Drugs From The Comfort Of Your Own Living Room
Gone are the days of leaving that extra line for later or ripping the bong before bouncing to your 8 a.m. lecture. Unless your parents live in a crack house, I’m gonna bet they’re not hip to the lifestyle. I hope you enjoyed high school, because you’re gonna get pretty nostalgic when you’re running back to the woods to smoke out of apples or initiating the bathroom hot box during the 20-minute window when your mom leaves for the grocery store.