shacking up is hard to do

Just found the funniest blog while perusing other blogspot sites this evening. It's called ihatemyflatmate.blogspot.com, and you'll get why it's so funny if you've ever had a roommate that pisses you off on a daily basis. I have, and more than one (it's amazing what a person will put themselves through in order to save half the rent). So, yeah, I totally relate. In fact, I wish I had known about blogs back in the day, because, man, it would have been good to go off on a semi-public forum. As it is, I chronicled a lot in personal journals, which are interesting to go back and peruse as well - but not as interesting as a daily blog dedicated to the torment, because then you capture everything.

There's no end to the examples I could draw from, to be perfectly honest, since I've had, literally, dozens of roommates over the years - some of whom I actually co-habitated quite peaceably with. For your reading pleasure, though, I'm going to pick two of the most extreme examples - - and hope neither of them stumbles across this blog. And if they do, what can I say? I still like you both, and respect you as people . . . I just don't want to live with you ever again!

Let's start with the one that wasn't really a roommate. Technically, he was a visitor, here for one month in the summer of 2002 (so no rent paid in recompense). But I'm lumping him in this category because we shared close quarters for as long, and the stories would make ihatemyflatmate's hair curl:

- First, the towels. Taking up to three showers a day, he expected to use a fresh towel every time. When there were none, which was often because he'd use them all as soon as I'd wash them, he'd ask in an irritating voice, "So we're out of towels, are we?" Gbjilfk!!!

- Next, there was the toilet paper issue. Never worked out what he actually did with all the toilet paper, but between him and the roommate I will chronicle next (who moved in the same month he stayed with me) we went through a freaking roll a day.

- Never, during the entire length of his stay, did said friend cease moaning about work and how they're so hard on him (expecting him to actually do what he's paid for, the draconians). To add to that, he'd call - practically spam, but via telephone - these hapless companies in his home country to question why on earth he hadn't been called yet for an interview. The slayer was when I would try (since I wasn't on vacation myself) to get some work done during the day (instead of listening to him moaning YET again), and he'd comment, "Wow, you're sure into that, aren't you?"

- Complaints about the smell of cat food when I'd feed poor, hungry Sarah, twice a day.

- Constant pawing, hitting on me, asking to have sun tan lotion rubbed on his back, and questions of "how's a guy supposed to get romantic with you?" when none of the above worked. If you have to ask, you're not in the running.

- Monopolized my computer all night (after distracting me from work during the day so I was getting effectively NO work done the entire month he was there), despite my several hints that I really needed to finish some stories. This, after tying up the phone all afternoon, actually booting me off when I was - hello?! - working, just so he could harass said companies who obviously would have contacted him along with his two friends who got interviews a couple of weeks before, if they were at all interested.

- The frequent (two or three times a day) calls to the operator to ask what time it was in Australia, AFTER I explained I don't know how many times that you add five hours and jump forward 12. It's not that complicated.

- Parading about the house in a towel, and sometimes a small towel. Still can't, for the life of me, figure out why he wouldn't take his clothes with him to the bathroom instead of coming downstairs (in towel) from the upstairs bathroom, getting clothes from suitcase and taking them back up stairs to the bathroom to put on. The lowlight was the day he came down in towel, rummaged through his luggage to find a particularly skimpy/skanky pair of black underwear, held them up in front in a "how's this for size" way and then gave them an obnoxious little flick before attempting to actually put them on, under the towel, IN FRONT OF ME!!!! I didn't wait around to see if he'd actually succeed - I think I had some lunch to loose.

Ah, yes, the memories.

My last roommate (a homestay student) lasted a year and a half before her parents worked out that she was basically on an extended vacation and finally stopped financing her. She never cleaned. She broke everything she could get her hands on. She couldn't understand anything I told her, but always pretended she did. And here's what else:

- I had to keep a private roll of TP in my bedroom because the stuff in the bathroom was always sweeping the floor, every time I went to use it, without fail. It's the floor! Did this not bother her?

- Kept bath towel in bedroom as well, since she seemed content to USE IT when it was there.

- Toothbrush also had to reside in bedroom. No, she didn't use it (I sincerely hope!) but she made such a mess with the water washing her face I couldn't bare to put the thing in my mouth. The bathroom counter was ALWAYS flooded with water (what was she DOING with it??), and the toothbrush holder always had a centimetre of sludge as a result.

- Don't know if this had to do with any sort of paranoia about an empty fridge, but there were always empty containers in both the fridge and freezer. Just, why?!

- All bags from purchases were unceremoniously dropped on the floor when their contents were taken out, left to languish (often a few feet away from the receipt, which was also left where ever it happened to land) until I got tired of seeing them there and threw them away.

- And let's not forget the watermelon fiasco. All freaking summer long, she'd buy watermelon, cut it up and store it ineptly so that it would drip all over the fridge and everything in it. And don't get me started on the seeds, which magically seemed to turn up everywhere - on and under tables, chairs, sofas, cushions, under my desk, in my bedroom (?!) in the bathroom - - EVERYWHERE!!

Och, I could go on. Other incidents, other roommates, but it's getting late. Only so many hours in the day to chronicle the mishaps of shared residence. Again, if only I had blogged it then... but what's past is past, and I seriously don't hold it against them now, despite how it might sound in this tirade. But see, there's always an upside to everything. This? It's given me a wicked collection of stories. May have to do more with them someday - - if ihatemyflatmate doesn't beat me to that, too!

here we go again

Wow, it seems like just two weeks ago that I celebrated my birthday - and now it's my birthday AGAIN!!! No, really - it's my birthday again today. Would you believe I had such a good time on the last one I wanted to do it all again??

Actually, today is my lunar birthday. As luck would have it, I was a New Year's baby - Chinese New Year, that is. The day I was born, 27 Jan. 1971, it was Chinese New Year's day. That makes it easy for me to track my lunar birthday as it jumps around on the solar calendar, since it's a somewhat famous day. I know, who knew?! I didn't, until I moved to Korea a few years ago, where the majority of people celebrate their lunar birthdays, not solar birthdays. Don't get me started on Korean birthdays, though. That's a whole other, convoluted topic.

The point is, it's my birthday and I'm a pig - a metal pig, I recently learned, but still a pig. That's my sign. I know, it's horrible. I didn't choose it. One day earlier and I could have been a dog. I blame my mum for this.

Actually, it was upon this discovery (the me as pig thing), about 10 years ago, that I realized the possible source of all my problems. I understand that pigs may be somewhat revered in China or wherever, but really. They're undeniably one of the most repulsive animals on the planet. And not only was I born in the year of the pig, but on the big day, the very heralding in of the pig. Me.

Och. Or should I say oink?

But where was I? Oh, my birthday. For my birthday today, I recieved a bracelet from Darcie, assembled by her with lampwork beads her sister made. Kewl. And a huge, funky ring from Sharon, the lady that runs the bead store where we ("we" meaning Darcie) put the bracelet together. It wasn't Ozeki's and laser tag, but it was not bad considering it was my second birthday in as many weeks. I could get used to this - as long as the aging process doesn't keep up. Just keep lavishing me with presents, attention and happy returns of the day.

Oh, yeah, I know what you're thinking - - "you're starting to sound like the pig that you are!" Well, you know, if the hoof fits . . .

update

By special request, I post a post-birthday post (say that 10 times fast), admitting that my birthday this year was not nearly as traumatic as I predicted. In fact, it was rather nice - thanks to the creative efforts of a certain rather nice team of individuals, to whom I wish to say thanks.

Grandma. Kyle. Kelly. Rob. Avery. Liam. Darcie. Dean. Uri. Ivan. It wouldn't have been the same without you.

So, the day started off well when I awoke and realized I was still alive, which is always a nice way to start a birthday I'd say. Then a bunch of work stuff, which went fine (which I wouldn't have expected, it being my birthday and all).

Lunch at Manteo with my grandma followed (we share the Big Day) and - surprise of surprises, she actually loved the venue, tolerated the food, AND had a lovely time, all at the same time, which is (believe me) rare when it comes to going out to eat anywhere with her.

Kyle showed up just after 5 p.m. with a shroud of secrecy about what the evening would entail. At close to 6 p.m. we headed out - where? I wasn't supposed to know - - although I guessed accurately that it was Ozeki's when we turned Right on Spall. Didn't guess, however, that the whole gang would be waiting there for us, ready to gorge on apple and yam sushi (my two favourites), green tea ice cream and other yummy things, and just be together and have a good time. Which we did.

Then we parted. I thought we were done. But - SURPRISE! - where am I taken (the veil of secrecy continues) but to Planet Laser for a rollicking couple of games of LASER TAG!!!! And yes, I totally kicked butt (with the exception of "Jetboy" Liam).

I only found out later that, while I was slurping coffee with Kyle at Starbucks afterward, Rob and Kelly and the kids were hiding in the dark in my house, thinking there was ice cream cake - which would have been kewl as well.

But it was a very good evening, with an exquisitely memorable end. No mishaps, no tragedies, no disappointments or regrets. In the words of a new friend, Adeja, "I'm sure you are on a new cycle of happy, wonderful, lucky birthdays."

I have a feeling she's right.