We're halfway through first semester now, and the first years are starting to settle in to the rhythm of college life. By now they've figured out that it's a bitch to walk home to New Dorms from frats, your fake ID is your most prized possession and the food at the Castle is still better than any dining hall.
They've also figured out all the annoying quirks of their roommate. Maybe the roommate smells, maybe the roommate is OCD about his or her hangers all facing the correct direction in the closet or maybe the roommate has what we like to call the "Socially Awkward Disorder."
There's a situation, though, that is not frequently addressed regarding first-year potluck roommates to which I feel I should devote some attention.
We'll call today's exercise: So You Think Your Roommate's A Cannibal...
Think Elijah Wood in Sin City. Think Hannibal Lector from Silence of the Lambs. Think ... I don't know, just think "eats humans."
We'll start with some basic warning signs that your roommate is not only carnivorous like you and I, but hungry for human flesh.
1. Your roommate has a very sharp, pristine set of Ginsu knives that he or she sharpens on a daily basis while gazing at you licking his or her lips.
2. This gaze is reminiscent of when Tom looks at Jerry and Jerry is suddenly reflected as a steaming roasted chicken on a plate garnished with fresh parsley in Tom's eyes.
3. You wake up frequently in the middle of the night because your roommate is gnawing on the fat of your arm. And he or she is sober.
4. Your roommate mumbles "Clariiiiiice" in his or her sleep on a regular basis.
5. Your roommate refers to the carnage seen in video games like Soldiers of Fortune or Grand Theft Auto as "wasted tidbits of yumminess."
6. Your roommate is a member of Cannibals Anonymous and has the membership card laminated hanging above his or her computer. (Real group. No lie. I can't make this stuff up.)
7. Your roommate asks about your weight, bone density and body fat ratio, spends a few minutes with the calculator and then says, "Hmm... should last me about nine days."
8. Your roommate's screen name is something like "Tasteslikechicken" or "Ieatsmallchildren."
If your roommate exhibits any of these signs, be afraid for yourself. You're living with a cannibal. I've consulted some friends who have dealt with this issue before (not really), and we have come up with some lifesaving (probably not) tips for you.
Firstly, hide all spices you may find. If your roommate invested in a gourmet spice rack, you're in deep. The kicker is to find the meat tenderizer and dump it down the drain. No one likes tough meat. No meat tenderizer means buying time until your roommate can get to Teeter again.
Start working out, friend. Get that tush in gear at the gym, firm that ass. No soft meat on your body. Nosirree. You will become as unappealing as a brussel sprout to the roomie.
Speaking of unappealing, start wearing fruit/vegetable scented perfumes. Country Apple, Pumpkin Spice, anything non-meat smelling will confuse your roommate as to whether or not you would be appetizing when cooked. I'm willing to bet cannibals are not so fond of the green veggies.
A good diversion tactic is to stock the fridge with racks of lamb, huge cuts of beef, steaks, pork tenderloins, anything you can find. Repackage them to say things like "Boneless, skinless human thigh." You never know if your roommate is a meat connoisseur or just an amateur cannibal.
Also, if you need concrete evidence your roommate is a cannibal for Housing to let you move out, here's a good trick. Put a blow-up person under your sheets after your roommate goes to bed, rub it with meat so it smells nice and juicy, sleep somewhere else, and in the morning come back to the room. Twenty-two dollars and a quarter says there are teeth marks in that sucker and it's deflated. (See above sign number 3.)
If you're still around and your roommate's a cannibal, chances are you aren't good enough meat. Either that or your roommate's just been watching Emeril, waiting for a really good recipe to try. Call Housing and move the hell out while you've still got all your thumbs and toes.
Lindsay's column runs biweekly on Thursdays. She can be reached at mccook@cavalierdaily.com.
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