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March 23, 2015 | by  | in The Moan Zone |
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He vs. She

We thought we’d give gender stereotyping a whirl this week due to the absence of generalisation in our previous issues. So pull up an office chair or bed as we discuss the only thing that belongs to you in Wellington—your room.

When you moved in, you were given a key to a blank room identical to the other 300 in your hostel (except Vic house; they have like 13 rooms), but by now your room should reflect your ever-developing personality. Lucky for you guys we’ve both visited a fair amount of different rooms in our time, so like everything else we’re pretty much experts in this department.

Your room is a lot like your first email account name: it reflects who you are and who you wish you were (like Luke’s first email: Unlike university drinking culture, you don’t adapt to it, it adapts to you. What was once a commercially cleaned, prime piece of student real estate is now your bedroom, office, rave pit, bathroom (if the window is open) and shag-pad/play-room #50shadesOfWhat?

Lad Pads: These are either “who needs shelves when you have a floor” or “don’t sit there, I just made it”. Both require consistent maintenance, whether it’s sorting, polishing and admiring, or hosting “drinks” all weekend, every weekend. This all changes come assignment due dates and exam periods, where there ain’t a messy room in sight, because a well-known remedy for endless procrastination is cleaning every inch of your room. After all, who needs a clear mind when you have a clean room? You will soon realise it’s alright to crack open that diffuser your mum bought you that you thought was effeminate because, surprisingly, girls prefer the smell of Ecoya over your sweaty ball sack.

Muff-Mansions: You are either a newly converted Hipster, or a Basic Bitch—whichever it is, your room is going to somehow maintain your feminine charm without any effort. If your room contains a waffle duvet set, Karen Walker jewellery, a vat of pretentious smelling Ecoya perfume with a candle that you just want to eat, boyfriend jeans and white Windsor Smiths, then congratulations, you are a basic bitch. On the other hand, if you are a dungarees-wearing, incense-burning, exotic tea-drinking, shisha-smoking moisty, then your party vote goes to Green and you’re a hipster. Whichever you are, hide your condoms because your parents and that guy trying to get out of the friend zone don’t want to think about you using them.

Tip of the week: Even if your room is clean, no one wants to see it on Instagram. However, love your room. Next year you’ll be paying through the nose for a damp, windowless piece of hell (unless you’re at Vic house—you’re already there).

Happy camping,

Tom and Luke

P.S. Vic house—we’re sorry and we do love you, like a sponsored child.

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Ten things I wish my friends knew about being Māori

: 1). I wish my friends knew that when they ask me what “percentage” of Māori I am—half, quarter, or eighth—they make me feel like a human pie chart. I don’t know how people can ask this so nonchalantly, but they do. So I want to let you know: this is a very threatening