ready to kill my flatmate

by gilda rêvasseur on January 16, 2008

i got back in new york yesterday morning, and was so tired, i slept all day. like seriously, ALL DAY. like from 2pm to about 9 am this morning. i woke up once in between just to go to the toilet, but i went straight back to bed each time. not being able to sleep on the plane really sucked, and is a great shock to me (and perhaps also to all those who personally know me, because yes, i am a pig and i can usually sleep everywhere and anywhere at anytime. no joke.)

anyway. school starts on friday and i am not looking forward to it. i had a fabulous time meeting up with all my friends in japan, and really, although i am learning a lot in parsons now, i regret moving away from tokyo. regret it so much i can’t even explain it.

so i’ve been looking for a new place to move to for a while now. although this apartment i’m living is really old, it’s close to school and i love it for the convenience. the doormen are also really nice, and the room is really quite large. however, i hate my flatmate and her fucking yappy dog. hate them. ok maybe “hate” is too strong a word. but i seriously dislike them, and i don’t think i’ve ever disliked a dog before.

i first wanted to move after a very very traumatic trip to ikea with my flatmate. i wanted to go to buy stuff for my room (i had not much furniture), and i needed her to drive me, because i wasn’t confident driving on the left side. (in singapore the driver’s seat is on the right.) it was a nightmare, and she was the biggest psycho bitch i had ever met in my life.

first of all, she wasn’t the best driver. i mean, she can’t drive and look at signs at the same time. like, what kind of fucked up driver is that right? how did she manage to pass her driving test? is it so easy to get a licence in canada and america?!?!

i was in charge of reading the map. but look, i’d only been in the states like what, about 3 months at that time, and i definitely haven’t been on the road, nor read any american maps. i read out to her what the directions say, and tell her turn left or right at whichever crossing and whichever freeway and all that. and she’s like, “no read me exactly what it says.”

i’m like, “it says exactly what i just said!!!”

and she goes like, “well you have to look out for it and tell me where to turn because i have to concentrate on the road!”

and i’m like, “well i’m looking out for it but what kind of driver are you if you can’t drive AND look out for signs?”

and she goes, “you’re really bad at reading maps.”

and i go, “well i’m telling you whatever’s written on this thing, and i have no idea how american roads are like so i don’t even know what i’m looking for. i don’t know what a turnpike means, i don’t know what a i-94 means, we don’t even call it a ‘freeway in singapore. i tell you to turn left and you say ‘what?’ and we miss the turn because you claim i’m not reading the directions right.”

i mean, after a while i just let her go off on her rockets. if not because i needed her to drive, i would never, repeat never, have wanted to go along with her. she goes crazy swearing at other drivers, honks at people like a million times (i’m not joking), and while honking, she screams “fucker you mother fucking mothing fucking fucker!!!” nonstop. i’m serious.

the most terrible thing was that the car we rented had a technical problem with it, and we had to call in to the car company we rented it from. she doesn’t have a mobile phone, so i used mine to call in. and one of the steps to prove one’s identity was to key in one’s birthdate, and although she was driving, she refuuuuuuused to tell me her birthday and i had to pass her my handphone for her to key it in herself. i can’t even explain to you guys how much i rolled and rolled my eyes. and rolled it again.

what was worse was that i had to go to ikea a second time. i thought, maybe she was having a bad day and it was mean of me to write her off just because she went insane on me one time. but the second time was just as bad and each time she went crazy at various things, i’d just roll my eyes and swallow hard to keep myself from arguing back. after all, what’s the point? i almost laughed a few times because she was just so ridiculous. i did all i could to stop myself from recording a short movie on her going crazy and putting it on youtube. especially each time when i read her some certain direction from the map i printed, and she would say it didn’t make sense and in the end we’d miss it. then she’d go on her “fuckfuckingfuckmotherfuckingmotherfucker” screams again, and then shout at me that it’s my fault and she doesn’t know how to go back to where we want to go. i’m like, dude. i don’t know american roads, but if you can get here, you can go back to where you were. if we took a wrong north turn, we just have to find the south way back.

like, duh?

and she’ll be like, “well i’m concentrating really hard on driving and it’s your fault so you go figure out how to get back to that road.”

seriously at times it was so ridiculous i wanted to laugh and tell her, “i think you’re one of the dumber americans i’ve seen.”

after the second trip to ikea together i decided that i couldn’t stand her and that i had to look at other living options.

but it wasn’t until my macbook and email and bank account got hacked into, that i really made up my mind. at first, i thought that it was just my online stuff that had been hacked into, but i realised later that the hackers probably hacked into my computer, and that it must have been through my internet cable. so i talked to her about it and said that i had spoken to a few of my really techie friends and they all agree that the hackers might have hacked in through the internet. i said that i think it’s possible and i asked if she had firewall and a password set. she said she didn’t know. so i asked if i could get someone to put a firewall and password up, and her answer was something like, “i don’t know what’s a firewall and i don’t know how to do that and i don’t wanna touch it and mess anything up and i don’t want anyone touching it either.”

fucked up eh? i wanted to slap her and i secretly wished that her computer would get hacked too.

at that moment i decided, that was that, enough was enough, i cannot live with someone like this.

i was in the middle of my final projects at that time, and once school was over i left new york to go back home. i was supposed to leave her my rent cheque for the month of january before i left, but i realised at the last minute that my bank had yet to send me new cheques for my new account, and i only had my old cheques from the account i had closed after the hacking. i didn’t feel comfortable leaving cash behind, sitting on her desk (she had gone back home to toronto), especially since i knew that she had left her keys with two other neighbours and that they would be using the house to keep things for their year-end parties. so i emailed her and she said i’d have to pay a late f
ee of $35 when i get back.

fine, i thought.

as my holiday ends, she emails me to double-check when i’d get back. and holy crap, she even emailed my dad for god’s sakes. when i got back to new york and turned on my mobile in the airport, i realised that she had also tried calling me a few times and had left voice mails. my iphone was not usable while i had been in japan, so i only realised she made those calls when i turned on my phone when i got back in new york. and i don’t know why she even bothered calling because i specifically told her in my emails that my phone will not work in japan!!

so i got back to manhattan yesterday morning, tired as hell after a 12 hour flight and lugging 46 kilos of luggage (i brought a lot of books back). i said hi to her and told her i’d give her rent first thing tomorrow, and i go to sleep after a shower.

fast forward to 3 am, like 13 hours after i had first gone to bed. i woke up to pee and she had already gone to sleep. i walk into the bathroom and guess what i see?

yep. there it was, a yellow post-it, stuck on top of the toilet bowl. “good grief” i thought. and went about my business.

i flushed and turned to wash my hands. guess what i saw again?

yep! you guessed it right, another yellow post-it!!

like hello?? i’m not stupid, blind, nor as forgetful as she is, ok. and i’ve never been late with my rent and my reason for not leaving my rent behind was very valid. and i was already fine with paying whatever late fee, so i don’t know what the fuck her problem was. and was i paying the fee to the landlord or to her anyway?!

best thing is, she kept emphasizing a.m., which i’m not sure why because she never wakes up in the morning anyway!! she used to work at a sony studio nearby as a receptionist, but her shift always started in the afternoon so she was never awake in the mornings. after she got fired a few months ago, she continued to wake up after noon everyday, and the only times she would wake up earlier than that was to go to the bathroom, because believe me the lady has bladder problems. no normal person goes to toilet that many times a night.

i got out of bed at about 9 am to go to the bank to get money for my rent, then realised while i was walking there that i was famished from not eating all of yesterday, and having only lousy aeroplane food that i hardly touched the day before. so i bought a huge breakfast, went back home, and really ate too much.

as i expected, she didn’t wake up in the a.m. morning. instead, she only woke up at about 2:30pm when i opened the front door to go throw something, and her fucking yappy dog barked her stupid head off. so why the hell did she have to write two idiotic post-its to tell me to pay rent in the morning??

and don’t even get me started on that dog. i want to smack it so bad and if it irritates me anymore, i just might. it’s one spoilt little brat of a pomeranian with the most irritating high-pitched yap, and trust me she yaps at everything. and once she starts it’s like 5 to 10 minutes before she stops. i hate that stupid dog. and my flatmate talks baby-talk with her dog. i think that’s gross. i can’t stand people who do the baby-talk thing. when i speak to my own dog i speak in a higher pitched voice sometimes, but i don’t do the baby-talk thing unless i’m talking to an actual baby.

and can i just go back to bitching about my flatmate again and mention that she has lived in this apartment for 12 years, and some of the things she uses in the place is just as old? example: i bought myself a can of lychees that i had found in the supermarket. i love lychees and it’s something i grew up eating, so i was quite excited to see that it was sold in my local supermarket. i came back to my apartment and tried looking for a can-opener, but there wasn’t one in the drawer with all the spoons and forks, nor the drawer with the knives. i opened the other drawers and found a can-opener…. but it was super old and super rusty it had things growing on it like a habitat. i nearly puked. “surely this is just lying here and not used??” i thought. i kept my lychees in the fridge and refrained from having to use that disgusting can-opener. when i went down the next day to buy a new opener, i came back and saw that crusty old one, laid out to dry after being washed, but still rusty and crusty and disgusting. “GROSS GROSS YUCK *pui!!*” i said to myself. how could anyone use that kind of thing to open a can of food that would eventually go into your mouth!!! disgusting. as i’m typing this i feel like i should go into the kitchen and take a picture of that gross thing, but she’s at home now so i can’t do that. which is a pity because seriously, the only way i can prove how gross it is, is with a real visual image.

so anyway, here i am, looking online for apartments in new york, instead of finishing my holiday homework. i was doing my homework all day, but i put my sketchbook down a little while ago when music from the living room was blasting so loud i couldn’t concentrate. it was blasting so loud, it drowned out the sound of my tv, even though i turned the volume of my tv up to the loudest notch. oh my god i’m so pissed i’m boiling.

i think it’s gonna be more expensive to rent an apartment by myself, but i’m seriously never going to give myself more headaches like this and share a place anymore. no way. no fucking way. i really don’t need any of this crap!!

and that music from outside better get turned down soon before i go out and give her a piece of my mind. ugh.

update!!
thanks for your comments. you guys made me laugh. i managed to take a picture of that can-opener. seriously i think it’s gross. hope it doesn’t spoilt your appetite. hee hee! open up the picture to view a larger image! *wink* click click!

i honestly cannot imagine using that. bleah!
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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }

jwoods September 17, 2009 at 8:21 am

You sound like a massive bitch! She drove you to IKEA and all you can do is bitch and moan about her driving. get your license you dog. You need to grow the f up. Also? you hate the dog. Didn’t you know it would be there when you moved in. You are a nightmare

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queengilda September 17, 2009 at 11:01 am

+jwoods+
well, if you’ve bothered reading properly through the blog posts, she wanted to go herself. i had wanted to go with my mom. and i’d just moved to america so how the fuck would i go get my licence? no, i didn’t know the dog would be there. just like i didn’t know on the 2 occassions she was going to sublet the living room to random people, and came home once to find a german couple, and once to find 2 canadian girls living in my living room. just like i didn’t know each time she came into my room, and discovered on my own later when my things had been touched. her doormen hated her too, so, you shut up.

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