Eric Wang
Yeah, That'll Happen #22
My Big Moves

It's a sad day when you move out of the crappy house you've lived in for the last two years at school. It's even sadder when you have to move your stuff into a temporary storage location for three weeks, only to move it into a crappier place down the street because you slacked off junior year and aren't graduating for another semester. And it's saddest when you have to do this with a broken left wrist and a sprained right wrist that you incurred while doing, um, we'll call them "stupid bike tricks"�. I have never needed a girlfriend more in my life.

But moving isn't really that bad, because no matter how much shit and college paraphernalia you've accumulated over the years, there's always someone eager to buy it. It helps when everything is already on the lawn (read: thrown haphazardly off the balcony) and your roommates are creating enough of a scene to slow traffic on one of the busiest streets in State College, PA. I'm not sure what was funnier, the fact that we were trying to sell stuff that normal people just throw away (dirty dishes still in the dishwasher rack, a non-working microwave, the ugliest couch in the world), or the fact that my roommates and I were all trying to close deals wearing only our boxers.

And then there's the issue of cleaning. Eight dudes living in the same house for two years yields situations that would make Martha Stewart vomit. Fortunately for us, we didn't have to worry about getting our security deposit back. Unfortunately, we lost it when our worthless roommate decided to not pay the electric bill or his portion of the rent and our landlord confiscated it. (We ended up suing his fat ass. He owes us 8100 dollars now.) Anyway, we didn't really see the point of putting effort into cleaning this house when the only things we would get out of it is an exercise in gag reflex suppression and an experiment in dust bunny inhalation. Translation: Hey, guys that are moving into 228 S. Atherton next year, it'd be a good idea to invest in Lysol, paper towels, and Swiffers. In bulk.

As if that weren't enough hassle to last me a summer break, my sister needed me to help her move from her summer sublet to her new apartment. Of course, I like seeing my sister (and her attractive roommates), but I didn't really care for having to take the red-eye Greyhound to get there. The only people who ride this bus are the vampires in From Dusk Till Dawn, returning to their bars and bordellos after a nice weekend at home. As if that weren't enough, the bus was delayed for an hour and a half, and I had to fight off the pickpockets and other scammers. My favorite one was the guy who claimed to be fresh out of prison, who just happens to need $1.50 more to buy a ticket home. I'm not exactly sure what it was that attracted him to me. Was it the Nalgene bottle clipped to my backpack, or the fact that I have all of my teeth?

It was a relief when the bus finally showed up. My elation, however, was short-lived. Riding the bus was an exercise in odor tolerance. I don't think some of these guys have seen the inside of a shower in months. Others were probably smuggling onions and garlic in their armpits. But it wasn't a total wash; I brushed up on my Spanish via the total immersion technique.

Anyway, moving my sister in wasn't nearly as bad as moving my sister out. Who knew four girls living together could be so disgusting? I think this is one of the lessons I would've learned sooner had I been invited to girls' apartments more.

And now, as usual, some things that seem to only happen to me"¦

- Moving stuff isn't nearly as fun as watching movies. I love movies. I love them so much that I'll drag my friends Mike and Jenny around Boston for an entire weekend, on what I called the Good Will Hunting Tour. It was a bit of a wash, most of the places that they show in the movie don't exist anymore. The only places that remained were Harvard, MIT, and Bunker Hill Community College. Ok, I lied, there was no Good Will Hunting Tour; I was visiting potential grad schools. Guess which one I got into.

- Having seen all the summer blockbusters, I've decided that movie theater commercials are infinitely better than the ones you see on TV. And I don't mean that cool Coca-Cola commercial where the kids are driving around the country and kinda looks like an indie film. I mean, The Island. Seriously, if it hadn't been for Scarlett Johansson, I would've lost interest after the third Microsoft sponsored explosion.

- My friend Epps started med school last week. He's a smart guy and I'll totally go to him later in life for Xanax prescriptions, but I'm a little scared for the other people he'll eventually be treating. After all, this was the guy who used to think it was funny when we put him in wrestling holds until he passed out at sleepovers. Also, he doesn't know how to whisper.

- My friend Chris graduated with a degree in aerospace engineering this summer. Think about that. My friends are brain surgeons and rocket scientists. Suddenly, I feel like the dumbest guy in the room.

- You know what? Screw that free iPod deal. Who needs that when you've got the best sister in the world?

- Nalgene bottles are made to be unbreakable and mildew resistant. However, their Achilles heel is that the lid is made out of some crappy plastic. Seriously, what's up with that? It makes for a really poor football substitute.

- So, I had my last hurrah at 228 with the summer school friends I finally met the last week of class. I had to get a little creative, having either sold all the furniture or put it in storage. The beer pong (Beirut, excuse me) table was made of my roommate Danny's door, propped up by stolen campus sawhorses. The signup list consisted of a Sharpie and the wall. And management has a nice surprise in the third floor toilet. When you don't have a security deposit left to lose, it's totally worth it.



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