A brief summary of a conversation between the roommates this past Monday morning:

One enters.

“Where have you been?”

“Buying deodorant.”


“Yeah, some asshole jacked my deodorant at the party last night.”

“That’s shitty, what kind of deodorant was it?”

“Red Zone, man. Red Zone.”

Lucky for me, my stick of mediocre Old Spice was worn down to a mere blue nub that barely even resembled its once-spicy splendor of an aroma, thus it went untouched.

This led me to ponder a rarely discussed level of swine, but one that nevertheless exists in Isla Vista’s underbelly of crime. This is a level of asshole that lurks in your parties and reeks of excrement so wretched it makes the lagoon smell of fresh roses.

They thrive on thieving the mundane, the insignificant, the thing that you would never expect.

Exhibit A: my roommate Adam’s deodorant.

Who the hell steals another man’s deodorant? It’s just one of those touchy man-things that makes you wonder what kind of scum creeps the nights in I.V. How is it different than stealing someone’s toothbrush? One cleans grimy teeth, the other cleans smelly armpits. That’s silly … and gross.

Exhibit B: my Aim Toothpaste stolen from DP last year.

The most perplexing question that begs to be asked is why would you steal Aim Toothpaste? I imagine the selection of toothpaste in my bathroom probably was something along the lines of Colgate Total with cavity protection and Crest Whitening Expressions – both fine selections. But did this drunken thief realize that Aim is the cheapest selection of toothpaste at Albertsons? Did this brute know that my dentist recently told me that Aim is the only toothpaste that she recommended I don’t buy? So when this brute’s teeth are falling out in 10 years because of his ill-conceived theft coupled with my meager Nexus paychecks, I’ll be the one laughing.

Exhibit C: our whiteboard eraser and its marking counterparts.

When you live with eight dudes, keeping track of bills and each other can be quite the challenge. That’s why we invested in a whiteboard, complete with an eraser and a plethora of colored markers to choose from. We even had an ingenious color-coded system so everyone knew who has to pay for what. A handful of parties later, our brilliant system had been reduced to a mere rogue red marker, killing our entire system.

Are markers really that expensive? At least be audacious enough and take them all so that you can construct your own brilliant bill-paying system, idiot.

Exhibit D: my electric shaver charger.

It’s OK, leave the shaver, just take the charger. One can only wonder how much a damn charger is worth, but I can make a pretty good guess how much an electric shaver is. Instead, my shaver that worked wonders for the lazy has since been reduced to a snazzy looking, albeit awkwardly shaped, paperweight.

Thanks, ass.

So the next time you’re prepping to throw down a couple of kegs at your place, don’t ignore the mundane. Hide your laptops, stash your iPods, but don’t neglect the essentials that conventional wisdom would suggest one would need not consider a threat of theft. Lock your surplus of toilet paper, hide your tampons and put your potato chips in a place where no one would ever guess.

And I’ll be stashing my newly purchased deodorant in a Swiss bank safe.

Daily Nexus Sports Editor Sean Swaby will be gluing down his entire chest hair removal kit the next time he decides to throw a kegger.