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Spoiler alert: the best year of your life is almost over and it’s all downhill from here. Literally: your flat will probably be down in the inner sanctum of Aro Valley. So while you’re busy being robbed every other Tuesday, here are some words of advice for you, as we reflect on our second year at uni.
Furniture has always been a vital part of any living quarter, and it will be for the first two weeks… until you give up on the quest to find something that resembles a table, and you can forget about having chairs right now. Or if you feel both handy and alty, you could “acquire” a couple of pallets and not make a coffee table out of them. What is far more practical is to leave them blocking the door for the whole fucking year (last issue, so we swore? Just trying to keep up with Sam).
Many an optimistic horde of freshers have planned to have a roster, keep up with regular chores and live as one big happy “family”. Lol, you’d have a better chance of bringing back a moisty to Vic House. The phrase “it’s not my job” will become the flat motto even quicker than you get pissed off with Spark and Contact Energy. Whenever you actually do some housework, it feels like you are in I Am Legend and it is solely your duty to clean up after the human race has fucked off (that’s two).
We found this out the hard way, but dinner doesn’t just appear from five until seven like it has done all year in your hall. You actually have to make it, with your oven that will turn into a time-machine before it actually gets hot enough to produce cooked food. You will begin to avoid the supermarket more than your INFO101 lectures. Because you have no money, New World Metro are complete bandits, and once there you are faced with more decisions to make than choosing your major after you drop out of Law.
It’s not all bad. On that one day a year when Wellington sees the sun, you can dangle your small calves out of your window and have a cold one. Tune. Don’t get depressed in the winter. Remember that even though you are forking out a trip to Aussie every two weeks to live somewhere you hate, it’s just a flat and it’s not forever. Ruthless flat parties make up for all of the little annoyances you will have to face throughout the year, and hey it could be worse… you could still be living in Vic House!
It’s been a blast sacrificing our future employment prospects in order to get a cheap laugh out of you. MVP goes to Vic House for taking our love so well.
Boats and Hoes,
Tom and Luke—your resident Dude Bros.
P.S Are McChesney and McSweeney the same person?