Moving out means moving on

A few months ago, I made the first important decision of my life. I decided to move out and get an apartment. I was going to take the swimmies off and doggy paddle down to the deep end. Unfortunately, I found out that it was more difficult to keep your head above water than I thought. There are no swim lessons for life.

First off, nothing is free. NOTHING! Common household items will come back to get you. It got so bad that my roommate and I used toilet paper as currency. I had become a t.p. pusher.

“Hey Man, can I score some sheets?”


“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you got it.”

“Okay, I got the stuff, what you got?”

“Whatever, I need to squeeze that Charmin.”

The grocery store, or “the house that mocks me,” was no easier. All of your old favorites from your mom’s kitchen cabinets mockingly laugh as you take the walk of shame to the generic food aisle.

The jerks at the generic food companies must enjoy the naming process of their ghetto products. They want to make it as obvious as possible that you are poor. Coca Cola? Don’t make me laugh. It is Big K for you. Doritos forget about it, try some Cheesy Triangles. Golden Grahams, sorry Donald Trump, have some Bronze Grahams (Come on, they put hair on your chest).

I became a vegetarian. Not by choice though, all I could afford was refried beans and ramen noodles. The spice in my life became switching from chicken to beef broth. You do become creative though. Who knew with enough Taco Bell sauce packets, you could make a tasty soup?

I needed calories and in a bad way. That is a problem I decided to attack head on. I got drunk. Yes, sir. I drank enough alcohol that a Kennedy adopted me. How can you feel hunger pains when you are hung over? I am not promoting drinking… wait a minute, yes I am. You will never meet a sober comedian.

Life on your own isn’t all that bad. With your own place, your social life receives a boost. Invite your friends over and make sure they are getting those needed calories as well. If you can get the opposite sex over, you won’t have to live in fear of your dad walking in with his robe open exposing the family jewels. Nobody wants to hear the phrase, ” Son you are doing it wrong. Do I have to show you everything?”

Though living on my own is a shock at first, I would have not changed a thing. I highly suggest doing it. Find out stuff about yourself that you didn’t know before. Don’t be that 25-year-old loser still living in his parent’s basement. Move out Norse, and study with caution.

Matt Stanton is a junior liberal arts major at NKU and a stand-up comedian. You can contact Matt at