Why I Hate My Roomie: Fish Sauce (Part 1)

• She eats ramen noodles everyday. I used to do this when I was deadpoor in my first year on my own in university. So I probably didn’t notice the smell, because I was hungry and wanted to eat them. But sweet jesus. They stink! And the smell seeps into my room and the carpet…and I think, because I’m in the living room right now so was snooping a little…when she cooks rice…she ads fish/soy sauce. I love rice! Stop ruining it for me! It gives me a headache.
• She has OCD, I get that as a nurse, you’re probably a very neat and clean person. That’s fine. But c’mon! My shoes do not need to be lined up perfectly with the shoe mat at the door. DON’T TOUCH MY SHOES!
• The first time we met, she told me her name, I looked confused, and she said “you can call me Su”….so after weeks of notes being left back and fourth she leaves me a note “blah blah blah…oh, and my name ISN’T Su”. You leave notes for “M”…my name isn’t M either. Am I complaining? Only on here!
• She leaves me notes. That is annoying all on it’s own.
• She hogs the kitchen, and if I leave a plate next to the sink, she will move it to “my side” of the counter. Dude! Each side of the sink should be common ground!
• She leaves the cupboard door open when she wants me to take the garbage out. It’s worse than leaving the note! I don’t have OCD, but if there’s one thing that drives me crazy, it’s an open cupboard door. Do you know why there are cupboard doors? It’s so that the cupboards aren’t open! AGGGHHHH!

And living with this roomate isn’t even that much cheaper than living on my own.

(she’s in the kitchen right now, otherwise I’d run out and take pictures of her fish sauce)

OH! And she put cans in the fridge…like tuna cans….won’t that give me botchulism?

Shouldn’t a nurse know better?

The Biggest Loser

So I’m watching the first episode of The Biggest Loser (and Dolvetts abs through his shirt); and I’m also eating butter chicken and beef curry.

Does this make me the epitome of fail? Or resoundingly successful at being a fatty?

I’m scared I’ll be the female white version of this one day.

Oh, and P.S. Who the F names their child Chism? (Like rhymes with Jism? That’s why your kid is fat!)

Brainstorming with J: Dry Vagina

The following is a conversation with J to help me come up with blogging ideas.

Me – I need help brainstorming, all I have is a list of why I’d rather be a hostage than a prisoner, and a note that I need to write a poem “An Ode to the Mustache”.

J – How about I tasted my menstrual blood today because Germain Greer told me to? Have you done that?

Me – What?

J – It’s supposed to help you overcome your subconscious fear of your vagina.

Me – I love my vagina! I embrace the power of my vagina. But I don’t want to taste blood from anything…except my mouth when I get punched for the very first time.

J – You’ve never been punched?

Me – No, but I like that I seem badass anyways. But it’s only a matter of time since I’m working at the bar now. And when I do, I can do a Mouth versus Vagina blood compare and contrast list. P.S. The winter is making my vagina dry. (It even has dry flaky skin!)

J – Talk about your dry vagina.

Me – No! I just talked about my saggy old tits. People will think I’m falling apart!

I don’t have enough to say about my dry vagina for a whole post….and I’m not posting a picture….but something I learned? You can’t use any face moisturizer. Some burn.

I google imaged "dry vagina" and got this. I get that it's for dry vaginas. But who's the chick? Is she like the Muslim equivalent of Dr. Ruth?

At the Doctors

I went to see if I needed my Hepatitus shots for Egypt. I got tested to see if I was still immune. I got congrazted on not having hepatitus, but I’m also not immune.

Doc – Didn’t you go to school in Manitoba? We usually immunize kids when they’re in Grade 9 and they should last 10 years.

Me – Yes…I graduated 11 years ago. (Wait! This means I look young, right?)

(Note – My actual Dr is on vacation, this is my substitute Dr.)

Doc – Why was all the fancy blood work ordered?

Me – At my appointment I had told him I had been applying to go to Afghanistan.

Doc – *stops typing and looks at me* You are stupid.

-longish pause-

Doc – If you go there, you need Typhoid, Diptheria,Ecoli something or other. And you’re allowed to eat toast and boiled water. I wouldn’t even trust their rice. It’s probably boiled in pigshit. (But pig farming I don’t imagine would be very popular in a Muslim country?)

Anyways, long story short, my doctor thinks I’m stupid and each shot is 85 DOLLARS! Next trip if I need a shot, I’m just going to go on thinking that I’m invincible…and also too broke.

(I just google imaged “rice in pig shit” and I got pictures of naked men and jackfruit. But I accidentally closed the window before saving any…and I’m too lazy to try again.)

 

Almost Thirty

You know how people are always like…”wa wa and then I turned thirty and my tits dropped to my knees!”

I always thought they were silly bitches. But…I think there might be something to this.

I have 2 months to go…and I thought my chub would help keep everything in place. 

But now when I take my bra off, it looks like everything is straining to touch my toes.

Do not want.

Rejoice Baby Jesus!

I love Christmas! It’s full of family drama, depression, alcohol and death.

If it’s not an uncle being hurried to the emergency room with an anus that won’t stop pouring blood. It’s an aunt who goes diabetes blind 4 days before Christmas day and refuses to go to the hospital unti after all the family dinners are done!

A family drag queen died, there weren’t tears, but that’s just because she was fabulous and the wailing will be saved for the party at the gay bar when there is the memorial.

On the brightside, my Gramma ignored me and couldn’t point out my faults over dinner because her favorite grandchild has gotten really fat and has turned out to be a disappointing mother who doesn’t take responsibility for anything including her child.

The holidays are over!

Rejoice rejoice baby Jesus!

12 Hours since Vomiting

This is kind of momentous for me, I NEVER throw up!

And lastnight after eating some bad sushi, and tossing and turning with bad cramps for almost seven hours….

I almost shit my PH pyjama pants! So whilst stuck on the toilet I projectile vomited into my bathtub, and in some spots, hit so hard splashed up the walls.

I am the Master!

I wish I took a picture.

P.S. I was up till 5:30 am cleaning up said wall vomit.

Also for Emma!

A Song for Subway
Stupid people should die and burn in hell
An Ode to Nov. 25, 2009

Oooo stupid bitch
Not the one that lives above me
The one that’s been knocked up
Three times! By that guy,
That hairy guy!
In the Value Village suit with an IQ of -40
The temperature outside

[Chorus]
No! There are no paper towels!
No! Paper Towels!
No! Paper towels in the men’s room!

Stupid A-Hole, you know where
The water is, You steal!
No cup for water for you!
And no, I won’t stick my hand
In your pants, to find your wallet
Do up your own shoe laces!

[Chorus]

Hey you old twat
Eat shit and die and no
I don’t want to give you a free drink,
Just because your going to
Die soon, fingers crossed
Doesn’t mean you get free shit.
Speaking of, eat it and die.

[Chorus]
I hope you all get salmonella. That is all.

Bitch is Home (written in Global Politics 2009)
Bitch is home to stomp on the floor
Bitch is home, she has bowl legs and a bowl haircut
(I know cuz I saw her just the other day)
Bitch is home, she got back together with her boyfriend
(I know cuz I heard them have sex lastnight)
Bitch is home, at 4:30 in the morning!
Bitch is home, Dependency Theory versus World Systems Theory?
(I don’t know cuz bitch keeps dropping shit on the floor and breaking my concentration!)
Bitch is home, there is some Indian Leg Wrestling happening outside on the street
(I know cuz I heard bitch keep running to the window)
Bitch is home, a piece of my ceiling just fell into my hair.
*bongo drums are played in a more quick and chaotic beat*
Bitch is home! She got some of my mail and I’m glad she didn’t throw it out!
Bitch is home! I hope she loses the use of both legs so I don’t have to listen to her stomp around anymore because the building isn’t wheelchair accessible. BITCH IS HOME!
PEACE!

For Emma…Remember When?

I am annoyed with the people sitting near me in my favourite study spot. So I thought I would write this (which I think I had said I was going to do last week.)

Remember when…

- You fell asleep during Human Rights class, and you had to spend the rest of the year getting the stinkeye from Columbian Necktie?

- We learned what a Columbian Necktie was?

-You ate that pizza in like 5 minutes when we were sitting in the grass. And you asked me what the bruise on my arm was? And I had to tell you an Indian bit me like 3 weeks ago (and I still had the bruise!)

-You made me leave our mini study group (ie. me and you) and i met that short attractive brown man with the nice car….whose online name I don’t recall. But I know you thought it was hilarious.

-I went to see 127 Hours by myself, and while watching the ending I couldn’t stop rocking back and forth with my hands over my ears and making weird dry-heaving noises?

-Instead of studying for GPE at home, I made homemade lentil and cabbage  soup…and ate it all.  (I’m really hoping that the side effects of eating half an entire cabbage subside before the exam tomorrow. If not, well, at least school is almost done. Positive side…everyone would remember me!)

-I came to the school to study GPE and just ended up drinking an energy drink and writing you this message? And then I failed.

I wish I carried a voice recorder with me, I swear, I had been thinking about the most hilarious things on the bus, most of them revolving around my sordid online dating history. GPE has killed my creativity.

I can’t wait till I have a boring job again. Hello Imagination!

Lady Poops

For starters,

Boyfriends just ruin everything. I haven’t written anything since June!?!

What are they good for?

Hilarious fights. Two nights ago we actually fought over me shitting in his appartment. I didn’t want to, he has two male roomates. And I was having a post Indian food emergency.  And he would only agree to give me a ride home IF I shit there.

The night before there was a conversation very similar to this.

Manfriend – If that woman does me wrong. I will slap her! I’m not afraid to slap a woman, I’m from a third world country!

Me – But please don’t, you know what white people are like, your a Muslime and we’re going to be like “Oh those Muslims love to slap a bitch!”

…he didn’t slap her.