I have to find somewhere to live in a new city and it’s horrific.

Because this kind of process is like making a friend and moving in with a partner all at the same time. It’s a double whammy of uncomfortable.

I know that I make a great housemate. I mean, I bread my own schnitzels for Pete’s sake. I also own the first three seasons of The Nanny on DVD. I wipe down the bench constantly. I have four Glasshouse candles to my name at present. I enjoy baking slice. And I LOVE a casual draping of a blanket for style reasons. I’m a catch.

But The Internet doesn’t know that. To The Internet, I’m simply a brown-haired girl with a bucket of dreams and taste for Queensland-centred memes.

So I have to sell myself to a stranger in the hope they won’t think I’m a creep. It’s like the opening episodes of The Bachelor/ette without the free booze. I have to convince people that I’m cool and fun, but not too fun (because no matter how convenient it would be no one wants a methlab in their house) and responsible and won’t smother them in their sleep.

Which is hard work.

And unfortunately, I have to be honest about who I am, because once you do actually move in, the illusion of normalcy will be forever shattered. As soon as your suitcase hits the floor, the jig is up. No matter how many times you assure them that you’re normal, it’s going to be hard to get them to accept that fact once you start pulling out your Harry Potter figurines and placing them strategically on your window sill. The collection of onion-shaped crockery is probably a red flag. The ode to carrots you painted yourself isn’t going to go unnoticed.

Sooner or later the real person trapped inside your suit of flesh and hair will become clear. A lifetime of Disney movies directed at subconsciously moulding me into an obedient consumer who never questions authority because I’m too busy being pretty has taught me a lot of things, but the biggest is that the truth always comes out.

So I’ve gone ahead and done a quick whip around on the corners of the internet to find out what questions people should ask a potential roommate before giving them the keys. I’m putting myself to the test to see just how I would shape up as a potential roommate.

I think I sound alright.

What do you do on the weekends? Staring into the abyss until I realise I’m about to wet myself.

Do you like to have friends over or keep the party outside? Friends are great. But unfortunately they’re people. And people tend to make messes. They spill drinks and drop Cheezels and then unknowingly step on said tubes of yellow delight, crushing them into the carpet. So I guess my answer really depends on the floor coverings.

Do you smoke? Smokers are jokers (and by “jokers” I mean “people who don’t seem to mind the prospect of dying a slow and painful death”).

How often do you drink at home? Well I’m not bloody made of money, so I’m not going to do all my drinking at licensed premises am I? And apparently it’s frowned upon to mix up vodka, juice and other liquid atrocities in a water bottle and drink it on public transport, so I have to take the party somewhere else.

Do you have references? Yes, most of them are from The Simpsons, but if you were a girl with a VCR in the late 90s, you should be able to pick up on most of the others.

What time do you go to bed? I try to go to bed by 9.30pm but somehow keep ending up still awake at 11pm. I think it’s because I’m exposed to too many colours during the day. I need to spend more time in beige surrounds.

Do you have any pets? Are you considering getting any? I’ve wanted to have a Saint Bernard called Keith for years now, but after seeing the actual accountability required to keep a pet living and avoiding animal cruelty charges, I’m rethinking that. Growing up, we had this real lone ranger of a blue heeler who didn’t need attention, lived off our table scraps and had self-imposed and highly sophisticated waste management system which meant we never had to deal with what Dad calls “barkers’ nests”. All we had to do was keep his water up. But nowadays I’m seeing why people say having a pet is a responsibly. My sister and brother in-law spend shitloads on feeding their dog, have to give him attention and pick up his poo. I did it for them the other day, and the amount of poo in that plastic bag was unbelievable. It was the weight of a small baby.

What do you do for a living? The other day I drew a picture of the Empire State Building in exchange for some Thai food and ear candles. Does that count?

How long is your average workday? Too long, am I right? TGIF and such.

Do you work from home? If you consider “quizzing myself to create revealing, salacious reading for an imaginary audience” as “work”, then yes. Yes I do work from home.

Do you expect a lot of out-of-town visitors? My whole life fits within a small corner of southeast Queensland. They’re not just out-of-town, they’re going to be interstate and very loud about it. My father may just get arrested for wearing his pocket knife belt.

What’s your romantic situation? I have pretty strong feelings about my hat at the moment.

 

How do you decompress day to day? I like to make a cup of tea, groan like a wild boar getting a head massage and then tell whoever’s nearest about how good a cup of tea is. I also like to repeatedly smooth my hair until I forget who I am.

What’s your relationship like with your mother and father? Well may father’s antics are getting me a lot of likes on Instagram right now so I have to keep that little gem in my good books. And my mother actually tried to give me some of her unworn, shockingly sheer negligée she obviously bought with my father in mind the other day, so I guess we’re pretty close?

What’s your worst habit? I like to get people involved in my body. Sometimes I’ll ask them to grab the frighteningly-defined tendons in my neck. Sometimes I’ll prompt them to poke my heavily-bloated stomach. Sometimes I’ll encourage them to sniff my sweaty arm cast (only when I have a broken bone). Apparently running my hair along my lips is weird and off putting for people who aren’t me. But it makes me happy. And apparently asking people to run my hair along their lips is some form of harassment. But I think it’s just common decency.

What chore do you least like doing around the house? Putting away the vacuum cleaner. Sure, it may sound small, but it’s a bloody hassle. I mean, I’m not saying that I leave the vacuum cleaner sitting out like some kind of wild animal. But putting the dang thing back in the cupboard is an uncomfortable inconvenience that I dread.

If you were willing to go to prison for 15 years for a single crime, what would that crime be? I really can’t think of anything. I mean, I’d like to say “setting fire to the patriarchy”, but I think the eventual death of the older generation and calm, rational debate is the best move. So I don’t know, maybe touching paintings in art museums, causing a general ruckus.

Have any illogical pet peeves? Ah geez, I guess dolphin statues aren’t really my thing.

Did you do any clubs or activities in high school? I once convinced my religion teacher to endorse my idea to start an interpretive dance club at my school. All we needed were the unitards and we were on. Unfortunately there just wasn’t level of the commitment needed and the idea never got off the ground.

What are challenges you’ve faced in past living situations? I lived with a girl who wore a fedora and sarongs. It was pretty challenging.

Anything else I should know? I’ve been really into Sheryl Crow lately.