Say: "The fridge always smelled like that.  What are you talking about?"

Mean: "We tried to make beer in the fridge."

S: "No man, you were an awesome RA."

M: "Please stop crying."

S: "You were a great roommate."

M: "I hooked up with your sister."

S: "You were an AWESOME roommate."

M: "I hooked up with your mom.  I gots skillz."

S: "Broseph, we have to chill more next year."

M: "Who are you again?"

S: "Man, I have the sickest job this summer."

M: "I will be getting coffee for someone remotely famous this summer."

S: "Job?  Who needs a job?  I'm resourceful, if you know what I mean..."

M: "I will attempt to sell alcohol and pot to minors until my parents make me work for them."

S: "Bro, I can't wait to slay all the hometown hotties."

M: "I will spend the next three months trying to hook up with my ex.  I will fail."

S: "No baby, of course I'll call you over the summer.  I love you."
M: "The amount I call will be directly proportional to the number of pictures taken of you and your ex-boyfriend that you post on facebook."

! Sure they’re night-and-day different, but through their struggles and friendship, maybe they’ll come to learn something outside of the classroom. Something… about themselves.

West Coast Guy: Man, you know what I could go for? An In-N-Out burger. Man, that would be so sick.

East Coast Guy: What’s an “In-N-Out” burger?

West Coast: What?!? You’ve never had In-N-Out?

East Coast: No, I don’t believe I have.

West Coast: Oh man! It’s like, the most unbelievable burger ever! It’s like, okay, after an epic day of shreddin’ the knar, you go to the drive through, order up a double-double, oh man, it’s like having a religious experience, or boning or whatever… it’s so rad.

East Coast: So In-N-Out is “fast food?”

West Coast: No brah! I mean, yeah, technically it’s fast food, but it’s so much more!

East Coast: So you eat fast food?

West Coast: Yeah.

East Coast: Are you a minority?

West Coast: No! Dude! You’re not getting it brah! It’s like they have this secret menu, and you can order your burgers with like pickles and grilled onions...

East Coast: That’s not very special. At father’s polo club we can order whatever we want on our burgers.

West Coast: You’re missing the point, brahdog! It’s awesome because it’s a SECRET menu! But everyone knows about it! (Silence) Oh East Coast Guy! Sometimes I think things will never work out with us being roommates! We’re just too different!

East Coast: Now hold on right there, chum. Perhaps we’re looking too hard at the differences between us. Maybe we should look to our many similarities. Sure, my burgers are made of Kobe grass-fed organic beef while your burgers are made of meat that was probably bludgeoned to death by a one-armed Mexican prostitute, but what matters is that we both enjoy a good hamburger-sandwich every now and then! See! Maybe we aren’t so different after all!

West Coast: Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right! (They hug) I'm sorry for getting all riled up.

East Coast: And I'm sorry for asking if you were poor.

West Coast: Actually, you asked if I was a minority.

East Coast: I know.

Silence

West Coast: Man... In-N-Out... even their fries are slammin'. How are the fries at your place?

East Coast: (Sullen) I don't eat French-fries.

West Coast: What? Why?

East Coast: Potatoes are for poor people.

West Coast: Oh East Coast Guy!

They both laugh.

It is the end of a meeting between an agent and the band (Nick, Ben, Jimmy, and Steve) he represents before the band takes a three-month break from touring and recording.

AGENT: All right everyone, that’s all for today. I think all the side projects look pretty good, and I’m sure-

JIMMY: What about me?

AGENT: Oh! Yeah. Well… Johnny-

JIMMY: It’s Jimmy.

AGENT: Of course it is! (To Jimmy’s bandmates) I said that, didn’t I?

BEN: Hmm?

STEVE: What?

NICK: Nick stopped paying attention.

AGENT: Don’t worry about it, Nick. Okay, meeting dismissed!

JIMMY: No! Wait! You didn’t give me a side project!

AGENT: What do you mean?

JIMMY: Well, you told everyone else about of some fun side project or job thing that they can do during the break except me.

AGENT: But… you’re the drummer.

JIMMY: Yeah.

AGENT: I mean, am I right guys?

BEN: Sorry, missed that part. What?

NICK: Nick is hungry.

AGENT: It’s like what I was saying Johnny-

JIMMY: There you did it again! My name is Jimmy!

AGENT: All that drumming must have done something to your hearing. You see, you play the drums, Jimmy. Ben sings and has the “front man” thing going, which is perfect for his side project of a solo album. Steve is the “wild and rebellious” guitarist who will probably end up having sex with some good-girl popstar on the reality show I booked him for, destroying her career while advancing his own. And I really had to stretch for Nick, but I think he’ll be happy having that guitar pick endorsement deal. I mean, he doesn’t even play guitar! He plays bass!

NICK: Nick could play guitar if he wanted.

Silence

AGENT: What were we talking about? Oh well. Meeting adjourned!

JIMMY: This sucks! As a member of this band, I don’t think you’re giving me the respect I deserve! Why is it that at every gig you put the drum set way in the back? No one can even see my sweet stick-tossing skills! And why is it that whenever we go out, and I say I’m in the band, everyone’s like “oh, so do you know Ben then?” Of course I know Ben, were in the same damn band! You know what I think- I think for too long drummers have been pushed to the background! We drummers demand recognition!

BEN: Dude, Tommy Lee got recognized.

Pause

JIMMY: Yeah… Yeah, I guess you’re right.

STEVE: Wait, no- he just got the hep from that blonde chick.

BEN: Oh yeah. Hmm. What about that Travis Barker guy?

STEVE: Blonde girl again.

BEN: You should try dating a blonde girl, Jim.

STEVE: Seems to be good for the career.

NICK: Nick wants tuna.

AGENT: Look Jimmy, if you really want another gig, I’m sure I could book you for my daughter’s Bat Mitzvahs- you can play things other than the drums, right?

JIMMY: Gah!

JIMMY storms out.

AGENT: (To STEVE, NICK and BEN) So seriously, how’s setting Jimmy up with a blonde girl going?

NICK: Who’s Jimmy?

1:34 AM- Still not posted yet- I guess these things take time, you know? Oh man, I can’t wait until that screening dude sees it- he’s gonna die! I wonder if he’ll just move it to be a national pick right away? I bet he does. He’ll know this is qual when he sees it!

1:39 AM- I wonder if I get free stuff if it’s a national pick? I mean, like a t-shirt or something. Maybe a Busted Tee. Maybe I get to date the Busted Tee girl! Just messing! But I totally bet she would want to date if this becomes a national pick. That chick is hot.

1:40 AM- What if this BECOMES a Busted Tee? If that happens, I would so never need to work again- I could just live off of the royalties or something. That would be so ill. Still no postage.

The checking continues for twelve hours.

1:34 PM- HOLY $*%# IT’S POSTED!! Oh my God that is FUNNY!! I started doubting myself there around hour nine, but it truly does rock. I am so much smarter and wittier than everyone. But wait- should the Big Dawg link it to facebook or not? I think… the Big Dawg shall not. The Big Dawg doesn’t just want all his friends to just put up “likes” or whatever cause they know him- this baby deserves to blow up on its own.

1:35 PM- No comments, no likes.

1:36 PM- No comments, no likes.

1:40 PM- OH MY GOD THERE’S A COMMENT! This is soooo sick! Big Dawg is all tingly inside! Okay, and the comment is… “first.”

1:43 PM- One comment, no likes.

1:48 PM- One comment, no likes. Big Dawg's buzz is on the decline.

1:50 PM- TWO COMMENTS AND ONE LIKE!!! THIS IS AWESOME!!!! Okay, chill. And the second comment is… “haha, this is funny!” YES!! I AM A GOD AMONG MEN!! Wait- there’s more… “but I think we should bomb Israel and give that land to the radical Islamo-Facists. That way, they will stop attacking us.” Wait, what?

1:51 PM- Two comments, one like.I’m sure that guy was just joking. I mean, that’s like the worst idea ever, right? Everyone will see that. Besides, everyone will just be focusing on the sheer epic-ness of this posting that they won’t even pay attention to that guy. And anyways- this bad boy has a like. That means the Big Dawg made someone’s day that much more awesome. Now no one can say Big Dawg doesn’t give back to the world. I’m like a crazy chick-slaying-Mother Teresa or something. Man, that’s such a tight post by me…

1:53 PM- Three comments, one like. SWEET- probably someone complementing me on the tasty post. AND it’s by a chick! AND she looks kinda hot! Well, actually she's a little chunky, but def slay-able. I knew this would help me get chicks! Big Dawg is gettin’ laid tonight! And she says: “this is a rebuttal to the previous statement,” okay, that’s not good… “i disagree with your previous posting and think that the jews do have a right to a homeland.” Okay, the Big Dawg is definitely pro-free speech and whatever, so if she wants to say that, that’s cool. Just some harmless words being exchanged, nothing too feisty: “i derive that conclusion from the bible, because the bible should be taken literally and christians are infallible. oh, and gay marriage is wrong : o )” The Big Dawg is reminded why he hates fat chicks.

1:54 PM- Seven comments, one like. Hmm. That’s a lot of commentary.

1:55 PM- Twenty-nine comments, one like.

1:56 PM- Eighty-three comments… Christ, what are these people even saying? “…and for those reasons, if you are against stem cell research, you are pro-stabbing-old-people-in-the-face.” WHAT DOES THAT HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE BIG DAWG’S POST?!? You know, whatevs. At least the Big Dawg has a like.

1:57 PM- One-hundred-and-fifty-seven comments, one like.

1:59 PM- Three-hundred-ninety-nine comments, zero likes. Big Dawg is going to watch tv now. Stupid internet...