Of Parsley and Plumbing

Which girl doesn't like a guy that cooks? Really, who in their right mind would want to join the throngs of stary eyed lovers fighting over parking spaces and dinner reservations every February the 14th? Nobody.

No. Every girl's secret desire is to have their guy flopping around the kitchen strapped up in an apron sweating over hors d'oeuvres too delicate for their banana projections called fingers. Of course a bout of food poisoning might change the average girl's mind. But for the most part, I believe that girls find be-apron-ed guys faintly amusing.

Well, all that is true until you meet a guy who shares a plumbing line with you. Then you pray to the Guardians of the Kitchen Disposal that that guy was a frozen pizza kinda guy. Because it seems that the guy who shares my plumbing line loves to cook on Saturday nights. I know this because of the poor plumber who is under my kitchen sink trying to save my kitchen from a dirty dish water flood for the second Saturday night in a row.

Did I mention that he loves parsley? For I see and smell plenty of that in my dirty dish water flood.

Now I consider myself to be a reasonable person. And my neighbours - guys and gals, cooks and frozen pizza eaters - are free to use their kitchen whenever they desire to do so. But when I have to haul 4 bucket loads of parsley infused dirty dishwater to my WC to prevent my kitchen sink from overflowing, I believe I have the right to be the teeniest bit of a grouch. And of course it is way more fun to write about the cook upstairs than to write about the clogged up plumbing system in my dinky little apartment complex.

Cokesbury 424

Somethings in life never change. Take for example last year when it took me 2 months before I got my hands on my adapter and was able to charge my camera and get pictures of the apartment.

This year, it only took me one month. This blog would have been pictureless for another 9 months if mum had not decided to sweep under my bed at home and discover that I had left my nikon camera charger back in Malaysia. Or if there was no Janice Kok to fly to America ship the charger to me for a fraction of the price.

But mum decided that the floor under my bed was in dire need of sweeping, and Janice was willing to spend 5 bucks shipping a camera charger to a scatter brained friend instead of spending it at a taco truck for a midnight snack.

So, as before, the first thing I did with the camera was to take pictures of my new apartment.

Living room: couch
Living room: TV set

Dining/Kitchen Area

My bedroom:

Disclaimer: I regret it inform you that I cannot confirm or deny the use of any cleaning appliances before taking those pictures.

Apartment mates:

Yes, the 2 roommies on the left are wearing wigs. And yes, I have blue hair. Sue me.

1 picture, 3 stories.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. This one, is worth 3 stories.


Story #1: Malachite Green Stain
Klumsies like me should not be allowed in Science Labs. Chances are that when performing a bacterial microscope slide stain, klumsies like me will choose the Malachite Green Stain with the loose cover and proceed to spill it all over the table. Chances are that klumsies like me will also get it all over their hands and arms. (Be thankful I'm not showing you the other side of my hand!!) Also note that klumsies like me do not possess special skin that allows the dye to be washed off. I guess klumsies like me will just have to be resigned to freakish alien-green splotches of skin for the next few weeks.

Story #2: Home Alone
I am home alone. The roommates have abandoned me and gone to Boston for some conference. That's the reason why I am not in my room but am in the kitchen, taking over the dining table (and every other square inch of the living room). Muahaha. I bet I'll miss them after a while, but for the next few days I reign supreme.

Story #3: Curry Mee
Sue me, but when you are marooned on a yummiliciousless country, you get rather excited about food from home. Check out the bowls of curry mee over my left shoulder waiting for my friends to come and consume. *drools*

Excuse me, I need to go and wipe away my drool. Peace.

Church, meet Apartment. Apartment, meet church.

There, now everyone knows each other. Yay!!

So over here, steamboat = hotpot. But really, steamboat sounds waaaay cooler. Excuse the pun, but I gotta be me, you know?

So here's the gang, minus 2 people, before we dug in.

And here's the gang, minus me, after we dug in, and were about to pass out from food overload.

And here's the baby trifle I made for dessert. Its an old family recipe, passed down from generation to generation. Fine, maybe it is only 2 generations old, but you get the drift.

So yeah, my apartment officially smells like Spicy Szechuan Soup, despite burning 2 candles and spritzing everything with scent. But whatever, it was fun. I've got a funny feeling I love stuffing food down the throats of feeding people.

Weirdo

I wonder how many other 19 year old girls make pita bread when they can't go back sleep at night...

Evidently, I am most excited about the return of my camera.

The return of the...

...CAMERA!!!

My little Malaysia-U.S. adapter-thing is in my possession again. So I can now charge my camera, take pictures, put pictures on my blog, and make everyone happy. Are you happy? Coz I know I am. *big smiley face*

So here's the first picture in a veli veli long time:

Food! A few of us Malaysians got together at my place to makan. The scary red thing in the pot was scratched up by yours truly. I'm praying I don't get a call complaining about stomach aches tonight...

But yes, moving on...here is a long overdue glimpse of my apartment...I figured that after my pre-dinner party cleaning fest, I'd snap these pics before everything gets messed up again.

So that's the living room...which ironically, is my least lived in room. I usually hover in between my bedroom...

...and the kitchen.

...and the bathroom. The bathroom is very important. And since I'm in the bathroom...

...I might as well make use of the mirror there, to prove to my mama that I'm still alive.

October 4. Housemate's Birthday!

Last year, on October 6th, we celebrated Roommate's Birthday. This year, it's my Housemate's turn. Yippie.

She's from China. So Ms. Banana who can only speak Chinese in dire life or death situations googled "happy birthday in chinese", and wrote her the 'weirdest "birthday card" you will ever receive'.

Please ignore the ginormous shoulders in the background!

She loves granola. So birthday granola bars?Please continue to ignore the ginormous shoulders and headless neck in the background.

And just so you know, my camera is out of juice - the charger/adapter is still at my friend's house. And its rather hard to take po-vess-si-ow-nal pictures with a webcam.

Me Lah Tone In

I tell you, my melatonin is messed up. I have been waking up at...

ssshhhhhh!!!!!!! come closer, it's a secret...

...7am or earlier on a daily basis.

WHAT?!?!!

ssssshhhhh!! keep it down, if my parents hear, they'll have a heart attack.

YOU MEAN YOU ACTUALLY GET UP AT SEVEN A.M.!?!!?! EVERYDAY!?!?!?!

Yeah I do, get over it.

Believe it or not, I have mutated from a night owl to a lark (early bird). Back home, everyone slept at a decent hour. But I'd stay up late just so I'd get the whole dingdong house to myself for an hour or two. I like peace and quiet, sue me.

But over here, I have 4 people living in less than 900 square feet of earth - not to mention visitors and what-nots who drop by occasionally. Surely my introverted soul needs an hour or two of just "me time". The solution? Get up an hour or two earlier, spend some time with the BIG boss up there, a mug of oats, my textbooks, and enjoy the silence.

Fire in the hole!

My boss likes to fire me on a daily basis. Me thinks he thinks its good for my soul or something.

Boss: [walking past me] You're fired.
Me: [not looking up] Thank you.
Boss: [stops, turns around] What?
Me: [looking up] What?
Boss: Did you just thank me?
Me: Yea, I've to think of a new reply each time you fire me!
Boss: Haha! Well that's the best I've heard.

I tell you, one day, he's gonna fire me for real, and I'm not gonna believe him. But that's a different story.


And here is yet a different story:
So I toasted my bread. It got NICELY toasted. The smoke detector went off. The sprinklers started shoooooting out water. I nearly died.

Fine, the sprinklers didn't go off, but I nearly died anyhow - I thought I was gonna flood my apartment. I tell you, these American smoke alarms are dingdong sensitive.

Oxymoron

I always thought that I'd had to get married before someone referred to me 'baby' and 'housewife' in the same sentence...

Example 1: Hunky Hot Husband
Babe, you make the best cookies in the world!

Example 2: Geeky Multimillionaire Husband
I'm inviting Bill Gates for dinner tonight. Baby, can you see to that please?

Example 3: Rich Old Man Husband
Baby, I'm dying. Please Fix me a cup of tea. *gasps and dies*

...but I guess I was wrong.

My 23, 26 and 29 year-old housemates have dubbed me "baby", and call me their housewife. Apparently it makes them homesick to see me stand over the stove/ kitchen sink/ vacuum cleaner. Apparently 18 year old girls aren't supposed to feed themselves (and whoever else happens to be hungry) and keep a reasonably sanitized living area. Apparently this baby ain't a baby after all.

Apparently, I'm an oxymoron.

Leftovers.

So there was half a cup of santan left over from the curry chicken 4 weeks back, sitting in my one and only baby sized container, which was sitting in my refrigerator, which was occupying a 2"x 2"x 1" volume of space. Annoying.

So this college student googled "coconut milk" and found a bunch of recipes. After eliminating about a hundred recipes I didn't have the ingredients for, I found one for kaya. Microwaved kaya. Ugh.

But that half cup of santan was really, Really, REALLY annoying. So this college student made microwaved kaya. And let me tell you, it didn't turn out half bad. =)


Then she remembered that she had to put the kaya back in her one and only baby sized container, which will have to sit in her refrigerator, and occupy a 2"x 2"x 1" volume of space. Annoying.

Of fried beehoon and jalapenos...

I fried beehoon today. Everyone liked it but me. Shows what a food snob I am.

Or maybe it shows how nice my housemates are.

Anyhow, I'll be frying beehoon till I get this down!


I ate jalapenos with my fried beehoon. It was tasteless. No kick. I want sambal belacan. Shows what a food snob I am.

Or maybe it shows how Malaysian I am.

Anyhow, I'm gonna look for something to satisfy my craving for fire!

ngom ngom ngom

When you first start cooking for yourself, there will be times you get *ngom ngom ngom*, and there will be times you get *bleaak*...

I won't lie, there was one *bleaak* this week. But so far, it's ever so much better than the caf's daily bleaak menu. And the caf's daily bleaak menu is really bleaak. Trust me on that.

But I cooked (not from scratch in the plastic bag) curry today. And it was *ngom ngom ngom* tasty. *ngom ngom ngom*

BURP.

I think I ate myself silly.


Anyways, life is settling down. Second week of classes are over. I've lost that "OH MY COW, I'M GONNA FAIL SO BAD" feeling. Work is winding down aka professors have stopped breaking classrooms. I actually got to sit down for an hour at work today. And I'm getting the hang of this scavenge for food thing.

*ngom ngom ngom*

Fly-dei nite

I honestly thought my fly-dei would end with me doing accounts, laundry, cleaning and rearranging my room. That would have been a great possibility if my housemate did not come back in the middle of the night and announce she was going for a swim. Or if I did not stare at her 'one kind ' for 10 seconds and then say that I'd join her.

I guess I can cross off "spontaneously jump into a pool in the middle of a starry night" off my list of things to do.

196. Fail a class on purpose.
197. Spontaneously jump into a pool in the middle of a starry night.
198. Speed on a 5 lane highway.

There! Been there, done that!

Oh, have I ever blogged about my extreme and unexplainable attraction to stars? They are soooo purty!! I dare my Rich Old Man to propose to me on a starless, barren night. I will reject him downright, no mater how very rich and how very old he is. So there!Anyways, forgive my slight hyperness. Midnight dips in cold water does that to a person ya know?

I've never...

I've never had a week like this before. I've never worked a 40 hour week before. I've never done so much shopping on foot before. I've never hugged/been hugged so many times in 7x24 hours before. I've never eaten so many sandwiches before. I've never been so disorientated before. I've never run head first into a glass door before. But that's a different post.

I've never worked a 40 hour week before. I seriously considered doing a 30 hour week instead, considering the fact that my body clock was still set unto Malaysian time. But the 2 other student employees in the A/V department stopped working for one reason or another. That left me, boss, and a one week old new guy. And I tell you, Orientation Week is not the time to be understaffed. We had events galore to set up, mend and tear down. So this girl found herself running around campus like a headless chicken. Like two headless chickens. No, like three headless chickens. But then again, the extra cash couldn't hurt, especially since...

I've never done so much shopping on foot before. I guess I could ask someone to give me a ride, but I really really hate asking people for favours when I don't really have to. Setting up 'house' can be fun, I guess...but at the expense of my calves. That is, my lower legs, not my baby cows. I don't have baby cows.

I've never hugged/been hugged so many times in 7x24 hours before. I'm not a huggie wuggie person. Never was, never will be, even though I've improved SOOO much already. But yes, I've violated many people's personal space this week.

I've never eaten so many sandwiches before. My pots and pans aren't here yet. So I've been sandwiching for the past week. I did, however throw together a egg-bake for dinner today. Literally closed my eyes, crossed my fingers, dumped everything into a bowl and dumped the bowl in the oven. It was edible. Just so you know.

I've never been so disorientated before. Consider this:
Boss: Could you run down to the scene shop and ask them for two mic stands?
Me: Okay. *walks off* Wait, am I going in the right dirrection?
Boss: No.
Me: Yeah, that's right. *walks off in another wrong dirrection*

I've never had a week like this before. It hasn't been bad. But I'm sure glad it only comes once a year.

Cinderella

I turned into Cinderella again. If my rich old man never comes, I think I'll go get myself married to a farmer "out dere in da countray", get an apron tied 'round me middl' an' start scrubbin' me kitch'n floor with a piece of ol' rag. But until I get married to that farmer "out dere in da countray", I'll stick to my Disinfecting Wipes.


I must have scrubbed every known surface in my room today, and then some out in the living room. After that, I succumbed to a back ache, took a 10 minute nap, and pressed the snooze button 4 times. Oops.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. *rewind*

Last night, 1 girl reached her apartment with 2 huge suitcases, 3 boxes, and 4 bags. In 5 minutes she collapsed on her bed and died.

Not really, I just wanted to use the number "5".

AHHEM! Last night, 1 girl reached her apartment with 2 huge suitcases, 3 boxes, and 4 bags. Then she took a peek at her room, and saw this:

Then she brought everything into her room and this happened:

No joke. I can't tell you how many times she has fallen over her worldly possesions while trying to sort everything out. Then she went to sleep.

The next day she turned into a Cinderella and scrubbed every known surface in her room. Then she spent the rest of the day trying to sort out what went where.

Eventually, she did...and took pictures. She told me to tell you to imagine yourself turning around 360* clockwise. Go figure.





And that's that!