Jonpaul is the house pervert. He is a small pudgy man who looks somewhat like an anemic mouse. He basically ignores all the men who live here and talks to all the girls like children. But as a girl you can tell that while he’s talking to you like a child he’s looking at you like he’s wondering what color your nipples are. He wore a mask at the last party our house had and took pictures of girls dancing all night. I forgot to mention that he’s about 40 years old and he has a really annoying child that he brings over the house all the time and it’s really awkward because you’re trying to drink your beer and say those inappropriate things that 20 year olds say and there’s this little girl in a tinker bell dress using all the house’s TV space to save episodes of Blues Clues and asking you how you hold your top on when there’s no straps on it. This is a house for people in their 20’s; it is a sanctuary for those who do not plan on having children right now and most likely feel really uncomfortable around them.
Our house is having this meeting; we do it every two weeks where we vote on silly things and bring up issues like who doesn’t flush the toilet or close the lid on the sugar. The bulimic girl just butted in when someone commented on the bathroom downstairs needing to be flushed. She didn’t seem to realize we were all talking about her. It’s disgusting when you go down there and find pasta in the toilet and cereal in the trash bin all releasing that barf aroma. It’s not how I like to start my mornings.
I peer across the room. Jon Paul is looking around the room like a predator. He stalks all the girls with the slits that are his eyes as he shovels spoonfuls of what looks like baby food or apple-sauce into his creepy face with baby hands. Yes, he has very tiny hands, similar in size and color to that of a baby’s. Some gay dude is going on about getting a subscription to entertainment weekly. I can’t understand what he’s saying because when someone talks with a gay accent I lose focus. There’s something about that high-pitched jabber that refuses to enter my ears. I’m not a homophobe. I just have trouble distinguishing the words over the fast paced banter. My roommate from India is sitting across from me. I secretly resent her because she constantly eats Indian food in our room making the room smell permanently like fart. When I’m alone in my room I always fear some hot guy is going to knock on my door and when I open it and they get a whiff of the room they will think I’ve been farting in their all day.
Jon Paul seductively shoots his hand into the air to show how strongly he agrees with some stupid issue I wasn’t paying attention to. He eyes me; I look away. He thinks we’re playing a game of eye fuck tag. I think I want to stand up in the middle of the meeting and call him a fucking creeper. Alas, this game will continue, but only in his mind.
The food steward just announced that they messed up the ordering of our food yet again. Everyone gets on her case. It’s a little vicious. The bulimic girl is ripping her a new asshole. Maybe there’d be enough food if you stopped eating it all and throwing it up. I won’t say that out loud but I’m sure that’s what the whole house is thinking. I look around the room. Everyone looks bored as shit. I look over all the strange and peculiar people that live here. There’s Santiago. He goes OCD on all the house chores, spending double the time. He never talks but sort or walks in robotic strides with his head down. He always has this backpack on that is so large I believe it holds the secrets to the universe. He carries the world on his back to and from wherever he goes; no one knows, but then again no one asks. He keeps to himself but he’s usually around. Then there’s Pat. I think he has Aspergers or some mild form of Autism. Once when my friend John tried to smoke weed in the basement, Pat attacked him. John said, “What the fuck, why would you do that?!” and Pat replied “because I hate myself”. He’s incredibly awkward, but in that way where even awkward people like myself feel uncomfortable around him. He’s definitely not from this planet. And it’s not in that, “oh you’re from this place and you’re into these hobbies and I just don’t get it, we’re so different” kinda way. It’s “whoa, I have no idea what you’re thinking right now your eyes are blanks” sorta way. Wow, the bulimic girls is still yelling at the food stewards. She’s so fucking angry about the food. You can almost tell she has an eating disorder because nobody cares this much about the meals. I really don’t give a shit about this. I’m only here because the house is angry that my stupid friend Jeff keeps eating here for free and they want to talk about it at this meeting. Jeff decided not to show up at the last minute so I have to speak on his behalf even though I’m not the one who always invites him over. The house president is making this an issue the house will have to vote on. She creeps me out because she’s super religious and looks exactly like me. People for a while didn’t even know we were two different people, like it was some weird doppelganger shit where half the time we seemed like a responsible Christian house president and then the other half of the time we were an awkward freak show. People probably thought we were severely bipolar or something. We’re supposed to talk about making a mural somewhere in the house. The house decides they like the idea of a Dr. Seuss mural above the kitchen. Great, now I can throw up when I stumble into the kitchen all hung over and have to look at some gay nursery picture. I mean we just discussed how annoying this guy’s kid is and now we’re turning our kitchen into a sanctuary for children. It’s such a Co Opy idea. Look at us, we’re funny and quirky, creative and we think outside the box. Well the Co Op is a box in its own way. It’s predictable. It’s members are of a few general types of hippies and nerds and we do annoying group activities. That’s a box. A group of 8 including myself protest the decision and call a recount. We lose. There’s going to be yet another lame symbol of cooperation to look at every morning when I’m most bitter about the world.
Finally we’ve reached the last topic of discussion. Jonpaul is asked to leave, indicating this is some issue that involves him and as a rule you can’t be in the room when the “council” is discussing you. After he has left, all the girls begin to talk about how he is a pervert and makes everyone uncomfortable. Most of the guys don’t like him because he’s a creepy asshole so as a house we vote that he can’t come back to live here next year. The house president tells him when he returns into the room. He seems to take it pretty well. Something in his face reminds me that he’s human and I actually feel bad that we all did this to him as a group. I don’t know why because he is such an annoying pervert, but it’s not like he was a bad person. I guess the world is a cruel place sometimes.
Once upon a time I bought a bottle of Jack
Do you know that annoying electronic band Justice who uses burning crosses as a form of identification? This really awkward friend of mine who's obsessed with conspiracy theories mentioned that they're totally Daft Punk in disguise. They tossed the motorcycle costumes and donned trendy outfits in their new project; to infiltrate the hipster mainstream scene and pass off as 20-year-olds in their 30's. I looked up pictures of both groups on the Internet and they really are the same people. Why hasn't anyone else noticed this obvious connection? Daft Punk is popular as fuck, you'd think some die hard fan would have spoiled this "secret" already. That is, if it actually is a "secret". I mean, is it really a "secret" or is it a conspiracy? It's a bit ridiculous how obvious this "secret" is when you look at the pictures. There are articles from notable magazines that discuss how the "new band" Justice has replaced Daft Punk, and Wikipedia mentions no relationship between the two bands. Is everyone really this blind in an age were people's pictures and information are way too easily accessible for comfort? I mean, I know they've been wearing motorcycle gear for the past few years so nobody knows how they've aged, but it's definitely Daft Punk plus about eight years. It must be some sort of French conspiracy, it's the only way I can make sense of this information slipping under the radar.
