-My apartment is somewhat small and awkwardly designed. As such, the distance from the couch to the television in the common room is about three feet. And in that tiny chasm lies the epicenter of twentysomething life: the coffee table. If you think about it, your coffee table is where you sit hunched over to eat take-out for dinner, it’s what you gather around while pre-gaming with friends, it’s where you rest your feet after a long day and what you clean puke off of after a long night. You probably utilize your coffee table no differently than my roommate Brian and I do. Except ours is less than twelve inches wide. And you know what they say about guys with small coffee tables – HUGE bookshelves!

-Living with Brian and his girlfriend, a frequent visitor, is like living with an old married couple. She makes his lunch every day and they go to bed at about 9:30pm. I think the only thing that keeps him going is watching rerun after rerun of “King of Queens.” When I question him about it, Brian says, “Karo, leave me alone. I live my life in syndication.”

-You know when you get off a long flight, you’re kind of jetlagged for a while and sometimes you can’t fall asleep? Brian is immune. The kid is tired 24 hours a day and can sleep at will. He once told me, “You know, I’d to go to bed at 7pm if it was socially acceptable.”

-While Brian will soon move in with his girlfriend, sometimes I wonder if, in his mind, he’s already married and living in the suburbs. The other day, I borrowed his keys and noticed that on his keychain were rows and rows of those little, plastic barcodes that you can swipe at the drugstore, the supermarket, Price Club, etc. People are always telling me that I’m turning into my dad. But I never realized that Brian was turning into my mom.