Do you have a deep love of windows, hate Communists, and want to either grill a lot, get “swole,” or both? Are you also in search of a new place to live and have a budget of $1,225 a month? If so, you’re in luck.
Craigslist has provided us with a gem of a place. Located on Georgia Avenue, Northwest, between Randolph and Shepherd streets, this prime spot features several amenities. These include:
- “Windows on windows” and a floor too high to throw stones at
The aforementioned “windows on windows.” Photo via Craigslist - A “sweet-ass” private bathroom with a Swamp grime-blasting shower head
- In-unit laundry so jerks like Nathan don’t steal your clothes
- Easy access to both processed and organic food (but at separate stores)
- Rooftop grills that are good for meat, vegetables, tofu and whatever else
Sounds all right, but what about your roommate? Not to worry. This ad is at least 40 percent about him. You’ll be sharing your 790 square feet of naturally lit space with Travis, a 25-year-old, self-described “nerdy guy with glasses.” He’s a law clerk who has taken both the Maryland Bar Exam and the DC Tour Guide Exam, though whether he passed either is unclear. Based on the photos in the ad he owns at least three blazers, which is nice for him. He kindly answered a few questions for us by email so you can get to know him better.
Who are you exactly?
T: My name is Travis. I’m a twenty five year old law clerk. I graduated from American University’s Washington College of Law by way of the State University of New York at Buffalo.
Just how inappropriate are your drinking hours?
T: No idea. It’s one of those nebulous concepts I’m always told I should acknowledge, but can never get a concrete evidence of, like the reason Rob Ryan drew a salary, or fans of the show Girls.
How high is “up real high?”
T: It’s between “pretty high,” and “super high,” if you want to be super technical about it.
Who’s Nathan and why does he have your shirt?
T: Nathan knows who he is. I was washing my shirt in the basement of my old apartment. It’s a blue shirt with a persistent mustard stain on the cuff, regardless of what Geneva Convention-violating mixtures I dumped on the thing to try to kill the stain. It went missing from my dryer, and was spotted on Nathan’s spindly back in the elevator. I don’t know specifically why he has it, but because he’s a fundamentally bad person seems like a pretty safe bet.
Would Nathan be an acceptable applicant if he returns the shirt?
T: Nah.
Did you read The Island of Dr. Moreau?
T: I have! I read real good and stuff.
Exactly what can you make in a Crock Pot, and do you share?
T: My buddy just showed me how to make Cubanos. I can make a hell of a chicken tortilla soup, classic chili, Parmesan potatoes, meatballs, and I’m particularly proud of bread pudding. I always share. I’m the best sharer. Nobody shares like I do. Buh-leeve me.
What is your definition of a person who sucks?
T: Nathan sucks. As do people who don’t pay their rent, people who play loud EDM music at two in the morning, and people who urinate in areas not built for urination. I have lived with all of these people. They suck.
Would you under any circumstances live with “a damn commie”?
T: I actually have a fair number of Marxist, Anarchist, and Maoist friends. (See: American University). They’re smart, well-meaning, decent and fun people with whom I share a number of salient disagreements. I would live with any of them in a heartbeat. They are Marxists, Anarchists, and Maoists, and whatever the latest splitter school of leftism there is now that they have found their way into that I have mislabeled, for which I express my mostly sincere regret. A damn commie is someone who goes into a histrionic fit at the sight of a Make America Great Again hat, or the glorious visage of Chris Wallace on a television screen. A damn commie defines themselves with baseless opposition to ideas based on the source, and rather than the content of the ideas. A damn commie is anathema to discourse, and frequently has little to contribute other than barely coherent screeching.
Thank you, Travis. It’s likely that there will be some competition to take over his former roommate’s spot (we salute you, unnamed former roommate, for making this post possible), so apply soon if interested. Just don’t forget to put “Make Petworth Great Again” in the subject line so Travis knows “you’re not a spambot, or worse, a damn Commie.”
Christine Jackson joined Washingtonian as an editorial fellow in summer 2017. She enjoys writing about art, culture, history, news of the weird and, occasionally, hockey. She is originally from St. Louis, Missouri and is an alumna of the Missouri School of Journalism at the University of Missouri, more affectionately known as Mizzou. For now you can find her hanging around Cathedral Heights.
