After a long day of checking Facebook, going to class, and checking Facebook while in class, you and your roommate have retired to your respective extra-long twin-sized rest areas. Your blankets are warm and your pillow is cool—you’ve even found the right groove in that pre-used mattress of yours. The only thing keeping you from a good night’s sleep is the artificial glow of the overhead light. The light switch is right next to your roommate’s bed, so you ask him to turn it off. You don’t get a response and you realize that, for the third night in a row, your roommate is pretending to sleep. Since your roommate is “asleep” and doesn’t want to blow his act, you can say pretty much anything you want without worrying about a rebuttal. You’ll win the war of words but in the end, you’re still the one who has to get up and turn off the lights.

As a kid you always dreamed of having a bunk bed to call your own. What it lacked in racecar shape it totally made up for in new places to swing from and opportunities to hang upside down. But now you’re a mature college student, and the idea of sleeping directly above one of your “bros” kind of creeps you out. Not to mention the daunting physical task of climbing in and out of bed—like you needed any extra incentive to stay in bed all day. At first, you and your roommate will pretend you don’t care which bunk you get but after about ten minutes of passive-aggressive hint-dropping (“I’ll bet the top bunk’s got a great view”) your roommate will tell you about his fear of heights. You’ll call bullshit and decided to leave the fate of your bedding arrangements to the flip of a coin. After about 50 “inconclusive” flips you both decided to just disassemble the bunk beds—eliminating all room for activities.

Something smells awful in your room, and it’s not you (It’s not you, right?). A couple covert underarm sniffs and body spray applications confirm that the odor is coming from someone or something else. Your roommate is fresh out the shower and the room is covered in a heavy blanket of Febreeze, and yet the room still stinks. After taking another shower and covering the room in a blanket of Febreeze you realize it’s the container of garbage that smells. Your roommate shotties not while you’re preoccupied trying to comprehend how such a small waste receptacle can produce such a big stench. You try and convince your roommate that since you’re the one who paid for the garbage can, he should be the one who empties it out. Your roommate counters by pointing out all the other, more expensive things in the room he paid for.

You just got back from class and you’re looking for cheap, cafeteria-less sustenance. You reach into your closet for a bag of popcorn or cup of ramen, only to realize that you have non left. Which is strange because you went food shopping at the gas station mini-mart two days ago. Confident that you didn’t eat or otherwise dispose of $50 worth of popcorn and ramen in only two days, you ask your roommate if he knows where it all went. As your roommate tries to explain that he “may have had a few friends over” and they “may have been looking for something to eat” you notice all the crumbs and popcorn kernels on his bed. You’re so angry/hungry that you can’t help but hurl every insult in the books at him. When you’ve finished your tirade your roommate brings up the time you took a Pop-Tart off his desk on the way to class and how that’s somehow the same thing. You may not be an accounting major, but you’re well aware of the monetary difference of the offenses.

You notice your roommate has ditched his perma-sweats for some much classier gym shorts. You ask him what the occasion is, and he tells you about this girl he was sort-of seeing in high school and how she’s coming to visit this weekend. You have big plans for the weekend so you don’t mind laying low and staying away from the room for a while so the burgeoning couple can have some alone time. The weekend comes and goes, but for some reason your roommate’s new paramour stays put. You don’t really mind her presence, but you can’t help but wonder what havoc those held-in farts are doing to your insides. After a couple more days go by, you hint to your roommate via Facebook status that she should probably leave. But any possibility of coexistence, let alone friendship, goes out the window when she hijacks control of the television. Couldn’t she see you were in the middle of a “Family Matters” episode? (An Urkel-centric one, too!)

It’s been a while since the last time you guys drank, you barely had anything to eat all day, and you’re “overtired.” So it totally makes sense that you both got so drunk from one 6-pack and definitely does not mean you’re lightweights. After hours of rediscovering the forgotten gems that are pop-punk songs from the ‘00s, you let your roommate know that you’re having a really great time. That’s when your roommate takes it to a whole new level, “Yeah man, me too. Listening to jams and drinking brews all night has been so much fun. You’re the best. I love you, man.” Swept away by the heartfelt speech, you let him know that his bro-love is requited. But that’s not enough for your roommate; he wants you to know who wears the backwards hat in this relationship and explains that he loves you even more than you love him. You go back and forth like this until one of you sobers up enough to realize exactly what you’re saying.