Thursday, July 22, 2010

Tales From the RA Vault: Tales from the Ho House

So when G-Fab saw that i was doing posts from when i was an RA, he got excited. Since we were RAs together, I asked if he wanted to guest post. He said he had the perfect post, so here it is:

When I was a first-year RA (MANY MANY years ago), I was stationed in a building that was affectionately referred to as the Ho House. A name that, initially, caused great ire among my Co-RA’s, it eventually became a badge of pride for me. I was proud of all of my little Ho’s in the Pent House (A nickname we gave to our floor which was on the 11th floor and only accessible after riding an elevator up 10 floors and walking an additional floor).
For the record, I still motherfucking hate that title. In fact i stopped speaking to a friend of mine once cause i asked him to stop calling it that like 4 times. The little assmonkey wouldn't do it, so i stopped speaking to him until he relented. I do not like being called a ho; I prefer "slut" at least then i have some decorum about me. But back to the story:

The following occurred in the midst of my first semester, before I met the esteemed Coyote Rose who came along mid year that year. I quickly learned a horrible truth that most RA’s would agree with. You should NEVER room with someone you knew before college. Why you ask? Because you spend the first semester getting to know your roommate and your second semester getting to hate your roommate. This was a truth that I learned the year before as a lowly freshman. If you live with someone you already know, you skip the first step and move immediately to your second. A truth I was about to learn.

Well, as a house dominated by freshman and upperclassmen who were too lazy to get their housing applications in on time, I had several rooms that consisted of two gentlemen who already knew themselves. The following account is the first of many incidents that occurred as a result. This particular incident happened a mere 3 months into the first semester. The first semester is usually considered a time of peace among RA’s, sadly this peace was about to shatter. I was in my room, studying no doubt. On what, I don’t recall. It was late, 12:30ish in the morning. When I heard running outside my door.

Exhibit A
Running was never a good sign in my dorm because it meant someone was sick or someone was up to no good. So I checked it out. I noticed that on the east wing of the floor, a small group was gathered outside of a room. As I came onto the hall, I heard a lot of swearing and the disturbing sound of something hard coming in contact with flesh. I dispersed the gawkers and walked into the room to discover two guys stripped down to their tighty-whiteys involved in a fist fight. Apparently this had been going on for some time. I noticed that they were covered in a strange substance and I didn’t know how to process what was going on. Were they genuinely angry? Was this some sort of strange new activity that the kids were into those days? As it turns out, it was a genuine fight.

After calling for backup (IE the biggest RA we had on staff), we managed to separate the too. At about that time the campus police came along. It was then that the truth came to light. Apparently, trouble had been stewing among these two residents who were best friends in high school. What do you wonder the cause was?

Peanut Butter.

That’s right, this uncivil display of bravado and macho-ism was all because one accused the other of eating his peanut butter by throwing the delicious protein substance in the other ones face.

Ultimately, one of the poor souls moved out and they never spoke again. The lesson of the story is: Peanut Butter is not a weapon.
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