First they blow up the place, flatten it, and then build their vacation homes on top of the people they killed.

And if that doesn’t work, burn down the toilet.

Every blyat and zasranets will.

Another psycho in a metal box. Road rage is such a problem. I hope the driver goes to jail, and never holds a license again. If you can’t control your emotions, you shouldn’t operate heavy machinery. Also, fuck car-brains.

I’m wondering if I should make a few separate posts about these, but for now let me tell you about the stripper/prostitute; we’ll call her Ana.

I’ll begin by describing this apartment. When you opened the front door you saw a long wood floor hallway. Every door was on the right. First there was a bedroom, then the bathroom, another bedroom, then the kitchen, another bedroom, and my room was at the end. No living room whatsoever.

When Ana was moving in she only had a few pieces of luggage. I invited her to my room to get to know her, offering to make her some tea. She accepted and while she’s telling me how she works at a strip club near midtown she’s eyeing up my room. Pretty quickly she notices one of my windows has a fire escape; the window facing the front of the building. It’s spring so the window is open. To her that was an invitation. She climbed out and started yelling down at the passersby while twerking. At this point I got a good look at her body; I mean it’s not like I didn’t notice she was curvy before, but now I could clearly see the butt implants. I started to put two and two together. After wrangling her back inside, I diplomatically moved us to the kitchen.

Later that week, early one morning, I heard screaming down the hall, but an unfamiliar man’s voice. Apparently she brought a “client from the strip club” home. Guess he wanted a little extra that morning without having paid. Ana pepper sprayed him as he retreated into the hall, and the first person to run out to the commotion was the French girl. She got pepper sprayed inadvertently. The guy quickly left, the girls got into an argument, and me and the rest of the residents stayed in our rooms until it became dead quiet. Ana was gone next month.

I’m at work now, but I’m happy to share later. There was a Kazakh family (new immigrants), a Syrian guy (there for medical school), a “stripper” with a large butt implant (on paper, but really she was a prostitute; not judging), an Italian guy (graphic design exchange student), and more. Usually every few months there would be a new flatmate.

All to say the apartment was definitely illegal, but I was young and couldn’t afford much.

No lie, about a decade ago I rented a room in a long-term AirBnB in NYC where the other 3 rooms were also rented out (so no choice in flatmates; shit was wild). One of the other rooms was rented by this 30-yo French girl from Paris who moved there to follow an ex-bf. Off the bat she was weird; she only ever cooked pan seared liver, toast, or white rice while talking about how she planned on getting this guy back. She would also always argue in French with the Belgian dude who was also renting a room while finishing his masters. Anyway, the kitchen was minimally stocked, so I bought an extra pot, pan, and a toaster oven. She would use the toaster oven but left plastic bags of bread on top, so it melted and ruined the toaster. She also burned rice into the supplied pot every day. It got so damaged after only a few weeks that I had to hide my pot from her, as she systematically destroyed every other piece of kitchen equipment and tried to move onto my personal belongings.

I have several stories from that AirBnB alone. Weirdest 10 months of my life.

Hilarious. Elon sucks.

How else are they supposed to land grab for future seaside vacation homes?

I think for some it’s a mix of patriotism and having poor taste in decor. I know people who also have American flag swim shorts, sunglasses, etc. Also, it’s not exclusive to America. My British side of the family (especially the ones who’ve met the former Queen) have a weird amount of UK flag decor too, ranging from clock faces, throw pillows, and even an armchair covered in a giant union jack.

Feisty, sure, but that’s his style. He’s the love bug, unlike Horace.

The only self driving car that can be trusted.

• Fistfight with the bathroom.

A freak of nature, produced by two bottoms, Raphael and Lindsay.

TIL you can trademark everyday words in the NL. I need to read more about this!

Edit: turns out this is why

Dutch is so whimsical. I personally giggle at winkelwagen. Winkel = shop, wagen = cart. Also, love that they say helaas pindakaas, meaning “that’s too bad”, but if literally translated means “unfortunately, peanut butter.”

MD crabs are soooooo good. I’ve eaten a dozen every Friday all summer.

Shhhh you can’t let all the beans out of the bag

Yes, more beans better.

Isn’t Heinz their favorite brand for beans on toast? I think they just like the tomatoey sauce.