That Lemon is Moldy

Can I just say I hate my roommates?

Like every single one of them.

(P.S. I'm going to try something I call leaving out obscenities... some people think it cheapens things! We'll see.)

---

I have a love hate relationship with the location of my room on the cell block that is my flat. I'm 2 doors down from the kitchen. Bad. BUT, I can look through my peephole and see if the light is on in said kitchen.

Obviously I like to sneak in there when no one else is around because I don't want anyone to see what I'm consuming and I hate making stupid small talk with them.

But being so close to the kitchen, I'm always smelling their shitty food. Being eating disordered, I think I have a pretty damn good idea what good food is. People can lie all they want, fast food tastes absolutely delicious if you know what to get. Turn your nose up if you want, but everyone who secretly says its gross and munches on edamame like it's chocolate can just go stuff themselves into a rabbit cage. So I think I'm a pretty good judge of gastronomy (and I've had 5 star cuisine that was to die for and really amazing hole in the wall stuff).

Let's begin the rant though.
It's never ever ok to leave your leftovers overnight in the pot on the stove for 36 hours. It didn't even look good to begin with and now it smells like rotting. If you are going to let your dish soak, please rinse it first. Close the trash can. These things waft into my room and I can't do anything to stop it except open the window and smell cigarette smoke which seems like the better option of the two.

I have never met anyone who doesn't know how to properly store food. If you want to freeze your bread, why are you going to leave the bag ripped open? And for that matter, why are you going to put your ripped open bag of frozen bread and crumbs in the freezer bin that has been MINE the whole term? The fact that I haven't used it in 3 weeks doesn't mean I've moved out. I should still get 1 fridge rack and 1 freezer bin (by the way, I've moved your disgusting tupperware off my shelf from my clementine oranges before you could infect them with whatever was inside).

It is NEVER ever ok to put something in the fridge without a lid. And I mean things like yogurt. Like "Oh I didn't finish this, I'm just going to stick it in here." And yogurt is being kind. I really mean curry and chinese take out (that most certainly once had a lid). Things that permeate through the fridge and my food absorbs the smells. Making me have to change what I buy to only things that have an inch of plastic encasing them or things that never ever have to enter the horrible refrigerator in the first place.

When you are leaving the kitchen, are you so angry with what you have just cooked and eaten that you feel the need to slam the door? Because even when I try I can't figure out how to slam that stupid thing. I just don't know how the six of you do it. Slam the door and walk by my room in what sounds like steel-toed Doc Martin shoes, mumbling something loudly when I KNOW there isn't anyone in the hallway talking to you.

Then you have the nerve to ask me why I'm never in the kitchen! Because you all came from families and countries where apparently the sacred place of the kitchen is your toilet. I bet your bathroom is cleaner than our kitchen is.

Sometimes I want to do my dishes in my bathroom sink because you all disgust me so much.

---

So I thoroughly blame you, neighbors whose names I for the most part do not remember so I don't even have to make up pseudonyms, for the fluctuations in my weight. I either have to eat gross over-processed food (not the same as fast food... the later actually expires where as "Twinkies" are good to stockpile if you are worried about a nuclear attack) which causes a spike on the scale, or I drink squash to keep myself away from that horrible war torn country that is my kitchen. Squash diluted with large amounts of water and the occasional cheese sandwich is a surprisingly affective weight loss regime. That and a horrible horrible cluster of roommates with bad manners and poor cleaning habits.

---

fuck fuck fuck. OK I had to get that out.