The Best Editorial Ever from the Best Roommate Ever.

You know him as that dude who wrote the hilarious Craigslist post looking for a roommate here in SF. But since it became the web meme du jour, its author - Wade Cothran - has had a shit ton happen to him (mostly for the better). And if you want to know the full story about why he wrote the post, what the response was, and what levels of awesomeness he's taking things to now, well read on.

Konichiwa bitches!

I’m sure you have all heard about my “viral” Craigslist advertisement. If not, then you should probably invest in a quick read of the post. Not because it’s funny or clever, (though some may argue this point) but because it may give you a bit more insight to the story that is yet to unfold. In a nutshell, I posted an ad on Craigslist that explained in great detail why I am the best roommate ever. Spawned from frustration and written during a lunch break, the ad was meant to entertain myself. I wasn’t getting replies for my housing search, so I said “fuck it”. Why not post something like this? I never, in those few minutes it took to write the ad, thought that it would garner the cult-like following it did.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a regular guy. I pay taxes, I worked a 9-5 for a long time, and I love good pussy. You know the kind you think about in church? That’s the brand of fun-tunnel to which I am referring.

But, let’s start from the beginning. I inaugurated my career of debauchery at Auburn University. Cool town. Cool curriculum. Great football team. Loved the fuck out of it. I thought the best years of my life were those I spent going down on sorority girls and shooting bottle rockets at the Sigma Chi house after drowning my contemplations of poor test scores in a liter of Jim Beam. Just like any young man presented with the pleasures of attending a public university, I rolled with it. I made marketing myself an absolute priority. My focus was creating an appearance that would skyrocket my image as the coolest motherfucker this side of the Mason Dixon. I succeeded, but I had nowhere to go from that point. I did the college thing. I drank. I smoked. I fucked. I graduated. The end.

Upon graduation, I immediately accepted an internship at AOL in Manhattan. I lead presentations for C-level executives at the age of 22. I blew their fucking minds with awesomeness and eventually found myself with Forbes Magazine where I continued my desire to learn and grow in the sad and undesirable field of print journalism in a digital and broken economy.

Eventually, I relocated to Birmingham, Alabama where I became a “social media communications administrator” for an unnamed marketing department. It was a cool gig. I gained a lot of experience and was able to hone my skills as a social media marketer. I also got to surf Reddit. A lot. Needless to say, I had more than enough time on my hands to formulate a plan to leave this corrupt and overweight city for the incandescent glow of friendly San Francisco.

My first few visits were calm. I enjoyed the weather. I got shit-faced. I lost a rental car. I banged chicks in a hot-tub under the stars in Los Altos Hills. All the normal things that would happen to a “green” unsuspecting Southern gentleman. Fortunately, I fell in love. Not with people or events. Not with money or promises of recognition. I fell in love with San Fran-fucking Cisco. The weather. The women. The burritos. Goddamn do I miss the burritos…

Anyhow, if you’ve been following my story, you know that the company I was interviewing with in SF rescinded their job offer because of my Craigslist post. Want to hear the kicker? Two hours later I’m sitting in my cubicle when my current boss decides that it’s time I “seek other opportunities”. Here’s the most awesome part about it - can I blame them? Absofuckinglutely not! They’re conservative. I get it. I’m a vulgar, profanity cantered asshole. Anything I say from this point on will be associated with Wade Cothran (Yeah that’s me). Unfortunate, but true. In the marketing game, it’s all about how you present yourself. It’s not about who you are. I think the cold and drug-riddled words of Hunter S. Thompson explain it best. “We are turning into a nation of whimpering slaves to Fear -- fear of war, fear of poverty, fear of random terrorism, fear of getting down-sized or fired because of the plunging economy, fear of getting evicted for bad debts…”

Shit got real over the past week. People called. I got job interviews. The fans have been fucking stellar. Cool as goddamn ice right? You bet your fucking ass.

And, here I am. I broke my own corporate structure. 13,000 Twitter followers in a week. Ashton Kutcher loves the post. Kat Von D has committed to tattooing me (which I’m totally up for. No, seriously. I want that to happen) book proposals, radio interviews, television spots, free beef jerky and an all-u-can-eat pussy buffet. Why? Because I wrote something that made your boss blush.

I haven’t become a reality television star. I haven’t endorsed a product that you don’t need. I haven’t asked you to donate or give me money. That’s not what this is about. I hope that my post gave you a sense of reality. Of what things could be like if we stopped perpetuating bullshit in the workplace. If we stopped lying about ourselves for one moment and embraced our differences and respected others’ for the individualism the people around us want us to recognize. Maybe things could be different. Maybe I wouldn’t be fired because of an idea.

So where do I go from here? I can’t just sit in Bum-fuck, Alabama right? That’s why I’ve devised a plan. I’m packing up my shit next Tuesday, and I’m driving my nomadic ass to San Francisco. No job. No home. Little money. I’m counting on my fans to follow through with promises of couches, bathtubs, garages and handjobs. Wait. Let me check… Ok. I knew someone promised me a “HJ”. Glad we cleared that up.
I have faith. Not because I’m religious. I’m not at all. I have faith in humanity. I have faith that I’ll make it and thrive because I have you rooting for me. I have an entire city behind me that wants to see me accomplish this feat. I fucking love you San Francisco. And I don’t even know you yet.

BRE

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You can follow Wade on Twitter. You can be one of his rad friends on Facebook. Or you can soon find him in our fine city and buy him a drink, fuck him, or both.