My life is Fake

Things that are ridiculous:

1)    For the past week or so my Scottish Culture professor has been MIA, and a wizard has taken over teaching the class. Literally he comes in and teaches us about spells and pagan rituals, and shows us pictures of prehistoric banshee damage.

2)    The carbon monoxide detector or something has been beeping in the stairwell, nonstop, for like, 8 days now, and nobody seems phased. Like, is somebody going to DO something about that? Do we live in the third world? The landlord comes up to our flat like, daily, to let us know how much we are going to be charged for whatever new banshee damage has been incurred, but she has NOT A WORD to say about the beeping. Like, SHOULDN’T THIS BE A MORE PRESSING ISSUE OF CONCERN? If you go up to the beeping box, it says “WARNING: contamination: Flat 10 room 7.” Like….. I live in flat 10. Obviously. What the methlab is going on around here. A French girl lives in room 7. We knocked on her door to alert her/ try to see if we could sniff out the contamination. She didn’t seem too bothered when we told her that the beeping that has been going on the hallway for the past week is due to her contamination (or she didn’t understand us). Like, did you poo in the corner.

3)    The other day I decided I wanted to do some sort of community service while I’m here, to give back to the city which has given so much to me (lolz.) So I go to inquire about all sorts of community service related things, like helping the poor by going shopping, and asking if any nerdy little Scottish kid needs a kewl American girl mentor to make her popular, etc. The lady was SO NOT HELPFUL and only gave me one suggestion: Teaching woodworking. Like WHAT. She explained how like, if I helped out with some WOODWORKING class, it would help poor children in some roundabout way. Like WHAT ABOUT ME EVEN REMOTELY SUGGESTS I WOULD BE QUALIFIED TO TEACH WOODWORKING. Is it the paint-stained overalls I frequently sport, or possibly the duck decal I was carrying in my hand when I walked into her office? Like, GIMMIE A BREAK. I try to do something decent for ONCE IN MY LIFE and this Is what I get. My life is fake.

4)    The other night, Hope was at the Big Cheese and bumped into a distraught-looking sweaty old man wearing no shirt, and she asked him where his shirt was, and he said “I lost it. Also, it wasn’t so much a ‘shirt’ as it was a ‘bin bag,’” to which she naturally responded “you mean to tell me you are looking so distraught over losing the trash bag you were wearing as a shirt?” And he started laughing at her. And everyone around her started laughing at her. Because she had said trash bag instead of big bag. Now what crazy, mixed up country are we in that the man who has lost his trash bag shirt is the one who has the last laugh?

Here are some pics of banshee damage.

Pink handprints all over the wall. Like what SUBSTANCE is that.

Empty bottle of Vodka, complete with straw. Like, who CASUALLY sips a BOTTLE OF VODKA with a STRAW. Banshees.

Remind me to wear shoes for the next fire drill (which will probably happen in the next 3 hours.) Tetanus.

Also, do you know how many chicken caesar wraps I ate the day before yesterday? Four. Also also, last night me and Lena went to the movies and you have to walk through the red light district to get to the movies (obviously) and we saw real live strippers, and real live boys getting kicked out of a strip club, and a real live giant pool of blood on the sidewalk where a real live person probably got beat up or killed. It was actually pretty frightening. Then I bought a spatula in the red light district, because I needed one and also for a weapon, if necessary.