Here’s a quick back story for this recurring series. During my sophomore year of college my three friends and I decided to live in a quad on the third floor of an old fraternity house (not my frat house). This room had at one point been the chapter room, and when the frat got kicked off campus (damn you administration) the school took over the house and turned the room into a “quad”. I lived there with “Dawgie”, “Buffalo”, and “Slam” (names have been changed to protect the guilty). Hilarity ensued in this room. There is so much that those walls can’t unsee. Some of which I am going to share with all of you, my Internet friends.
Like all good dudes out there, the boys and I were lazy. We lived on the third floor of our building and four dudes get pretty messy. That quad was a dump, no question about it. One of the biggest problems was our trash. No one wants to haul bags of trash down three flights of stairs. So it would just collect and collect. When we ran out of trash cans we would take our empty 30-rack cases and fill them with trash (look for my DIY guide to beer box trash cans). At a certain point these trash cans and beer boxes started to make it hard to get around the room. So we started to put them in the hall, in a line, just outside of our door. Now we obviously had no problem with this system but our cleaner, Kevin, did. Kevin hated us. Every morning I would walk down the hall to take a shower and I would pass Kevin. He’d say “Hey, Fraturday, you gonna take out that trash?” I’d usually say something snarky like, “I dunno, Kev, I’ve got a pretty big day today, don’t know if I’ll be able to get to it.” He’d grumble something about taking care of it or he would do it and fine us. And that’s what he did. Kevin became our monthly trash man. Put it on the bill!