Sharehouse Survival Guide

sharehouse
sharehouse | Source

Sharehouse Checklist

You’re Looking to Move in

Spotless Kitchen:

What you hope it means:

The people you’re about to move in with are all clean, house-proud grown-ups with no intention of living like squatters.

What it really means:

Someone in the house has chronic OCD. And there’ll be hell to pay for any stray toast crumbs, you disgusting pig!

There’s a spa bath on the outer deck:

What you hope it means:

Balmy summer evenings will be spent semi-naked in a sea of bubbles, beer in one hand, cigar in the other, toasting your good frown.

What it really means:

It hasn’t been used in years – mainly because the last time it was, scientists ended up naming a virulent new waterborne disease after your street.

They’re offering you a discount on your room:

What you hope it means:

You’ve hit upon the deal of the century!

What it really means:

Last week, it wasn’t a room; it was the communal shoe cupboard.

The landlords is “Looking to make an instant decision”:

What you hope it means:

The landlord likes to make positive, on-the-spot judgements – boding well for when you ask for things to be fixed. And, of course, you had them at “hello”.

What it really means:

You had them at “hello” … because you’re the only person brave enough to step foot into the neighbourhood. And by “front door” we mean, “heavily fortified steel security entrance”.

Every girl in the house is super hot:

What you hope it means:

You’ll be like an extra in your own soft-pron flick: girls prancing around in underwear, pillow fights….

What it really means:

The landlord hired models. Tomorrow they’ll mysteriously disappear and morph into halitosis-breathing trolls.

sharehouse
sharehouse | Source

You’re Already in and are Looking for new Recruits

He/she doesn’t have a boyfriend/girlfriend:

What you hope it means:

You’ll have a peaceful existence, without an extra person always living there rent-free.

What it really means:

If they’re ugly, they’re hoping to date you, if not, bonus!

They bring sparkling references:

What you hope it means:

You’ve found someone with a reputable renting history.

What it really means:

They typed the words “Fake” and “References” into Google. And, mysteriously, their last landlord has the same last name and goes by the first name, “mum”.

They’re willing to pay two month’s rent upfront:

What you hope it means:

It’s a show of faith, a sign that he/she is gainfully employed and won’t spend weekdays lounging on the sofa in their pyjamas.

What it really means:

Your new recruit will spend weekdays lounging on the sofa in the pyjamas … selling crack.

They offer to make Sunday dinner for everyone on their first weekend:

What you hope it means:

Say goodbye to leftovers and hello to roast beef, crispy potato’s, thick gravy – it’ll be like living at home again, without the nagging olds.

What it really means:

You’ll get your feast alright, once you’ve said grace and recited the Lord’s Prayer together. The God Squad are moving in.

They stress in the interview that they’re sociable:

What you hope it means:

They’re outgoing, friendly and much more in keeping with the spirit of the house than the miserable recluse you booted out.

What it really means:

There’s a party at your house tonight, but no one told you about it. You found out on Facebook earlier, as did 1000 revellers now congregating on the front lawn.

sharehouse
sharehouse

Sharehouse Stereotypes

Over-emotional woman:

Distinguishing characteristics:

Permanently having like the most stressful day ever, she’s leakier than an old tap, constantly crying and sharing her dramas with any housemate who’ll listen. Friends, men, and work colleagues, the puppies on Bondi vet – the whole world is on a mission to drive her to Prozac.

How to bond with them:

Place a reassuring arm around her and tell her everything will be okay. And, oh yeah, you left some razor blades in the bathroom cabinet if she is interested.

Most likely to say:

“Boooooo-hoooo-hooooo-hoooo”.

Least likely to say:

“Another chocolate? Not for me thanks”.

Upscale Dero:

Distinguishing characteristics:

They’re not sleeping in the local park and their life possessions aren’t stashed in a Woolies shopping trolley, but you’d never know from their smell and lack of personal hygiene – and job. Conclusion: they’re aristocratic homeless people.

How to bond with them:

Make them feel at home…by handing out Styrofoam cups filled with hot soup every night.

Most likely to say:

Something unintelligible from behind a cider bottle.

Least likely to say:

“Yes, Mr New Employer, when do you want me to start”.

Obsessive Complusive:

Distinguishing characteristics:

When they’re not hanging their washing in colour-coded rows or adjusting food tins so their labels face out of the cupboard, they’re scrubbing surfaces with bleach – even if those ‘surfaces’ are beds and there’s someone asleep in them.

How to bond with them:

Apologise for not being sympathetic to their issues, then offer them your hand in apology… provided it has been scrubbed with anti-bacterial wipes.

Most likely to say:

“Does this face-mask go with this top?”

Least likely to say:

Anything dirty.

Surrogate Landlord:

Distinguishing characteristics:

Even though they pay the same amount of rent as everyone else, there’s always one in house Fuhrer who’s voted themselves official CEO of everything, simply because they have been a tenant at the house for longer than everyone else.

How to bond with them:

Ask if they want to borrow your copy of Mein Kampf.

Most likely to say:

“Rouse! Rouse! Rouse!”

Least likely to say:

“Let’s take a democratic vote on that.”

Phantom Housemate:

Distinguishing characteristics:

They don’t have any, because you are still not sure if they actually exist. Their room looks lived in and clean, the rent’s paid on time every month, but there’s been no confirmed sightings of them for months – leading to suspicions that you’re shacked up with Casper the Friendly Ghost.

How to bond with them:

Wait in the hallway one night and accost them when they walk through the door. If that doesn’t happen, conduct a séance immediately.

Most likely to say:

“I start work early and finish late.”

Least likely to say:

“Sure, I’ll tell you what I’m really up to.”

Professional Suit:

Distinguishing characteristics:

The driven professional of the house is the only tenant to wear a collar and tie to work, and as such, lords it over everyone else. Despite his high paying bank job, you all secretly wonder why he’s still living in a share house in the ‘burbs rather than owning a glittering harbour-view apartment.

How to bond with them:

During a communal house barbie, say how you think greed is good…by stealing his serve of chicken drumsticks.

Most likely to say:

“Sure you can borrow ten bucks…at the standard variable interest rate of 22.4 percent.”

Least likely to say:

“Your cars been repossessed? Here, take ten bucks to tide you over.”

Party Animal:

Distinguishing characteristics:

It’s booze, drugs and dwarf tossing every night as the budding Corey Worthington does there best to recreate their favourite scenes from Project X in the kitchen. And anyone who politely reminds them that its only Tuesday is abused for being a 96-year-old killjoy.

How to bond with them:

It doesn’t matter…as long as you light a fart beforehand, they’ll be putty in your hands.

Most likely to say:

“You gotta fight!...For your right!...To paaaaaaaaaarty!”

Least likely to say:

“I’m having a quiet night with my Snuggie.”

The Slut:

Distinguishing characteristics:

In male or female form, the serial shagger spends most of their time attached to another pair of genitals, testing the strength of mattresses, floorboards, tables and stairs all over the house. They’re often louder than a flock of galahs, too – just to piss you off.

How to bond with them:

If it’s a bloke share stories, if it’s a chick, pull your pants down.

Most likely to say:

“Yes”, “Yes” and “Yesssss”.

Least likely to say:

No.

Sharehouse Triple – Zero

Emergency:

You’ve left an un-flushable in the toilet bowl, and your hot housemate is outside the door, waiting to go in after you.

What to do:

Roll your eyes and say that you can’t believe that Dan from upstairs would do such a thing. You’re off to get the toilet duck.

What not to do:

Hold your nose and say you think you have given birth.

Emergency:

There’s a stand off by the communal tv. You want the footy show, he wants dancing with the stars.

What to do:

Keep the peace. Let him watch men in sequins on this occasion, as long as you get to choose next time there is a clash of tastes.

What not to do:

Compromise and agree to watch the Albanian news on SBS.

Emergency:

The cooker and oven are broke and everyone is skint, so there’s no money for take-away.

What to do:

Make a fire in the garden. You’ll score bro-points among the male housemates, and the female ones will suddenly be intrigued as to what else you can do with those magic hands.

What not to do:

Get on the beers, forget about the fire, go to bed and wake up over a fireman’s shoulder, being carried through a wall of flames.

Emergency:

The house has flooded and you can’t get a hold of the landlord.

What to do:

Channel the good people of Queensland: pool your resources and fix the problem. Get buckets. Borrow neighbours buckets.

What not to do:

Channel the bad people of Queensland and say fuck youse all and go to the pub.

Emergency:

You get over-amorous with your missus on the communal sofa one night – and one of your housemates walks in you mid-bonk.

What to do:

Stop, get dressed and promise to apologise to the roommate in the morning.

What not to do:

Change positions. You may be out of frame on the webcam you secretly set up

Emergency:

On Sunday morning, there are half a dozen strangers asleep on the lounge room floor.

What to do:

Turn the light on, offer to make everyone a coffee, and then politely ask if they wouldn’t mind leaving once they have finished.

What not to do:

Draw a giant cock and balls on each of their foreheads, then send the photos to everyone you know.

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jantamaya 4 years ago from UK

:) :) :) I LOVED IT! :-) Funny and very useful. Voted up. :) :) :)

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