cultural aversion

semperidem said: Wow, those are extensions!?

I’d say 90% of the time I have some form of hair extensions on my head. My hair is shoulder length. I’m giving it a break for a while. I just love playing with styles without fucking my own hair up!

I had concocted a mixture of golden seal and an other oil as an immune and cleansing tincture/solution and had put it in a mason jar…

I left it at the other apartment knowing very well I’d be back in a few days to take it and bring it to my new place. 

When I got there, it was gone. The rest of the stuff I had left was still there but stashed away in a closet though. 

That jar, gone. 

Thing is, it straight up looked like a jar of bright yellow piss. 

I can only imagine what the maintenance staff had to say when they found this. 

Fucking vegan tattooed girl and her piss jars. 

I feel a cold coming on. 

The humidity levels in my new pad are sky high. That, even before the ceiling in my bedroom collapsed last Monday. Yeah, you heard me. The heavy snow on the roof, the fact that this triplex is over 50 years old and that there are no signs of any insolation at all between ceiling and roof creating a humid mess has managed to do irreversible structural damage to the building. 

I’ve since moved my mattress to the living room. The view is much finer. I see church bells and the buildings on St-Joseph look incredible during snow falls. 

I’ve grown surprisingly accustomed to sub-par living situations in my years of living as an illegal alien down in the good old US of A… (BAM! That’s right youz guys… stolen your jobs and makin’ mah monayz) I like to look back at the last apartment I had in the rural Philadelphia area and remind myself that it can’t be as bad as THAT place. I adored that shit hole. Why? Because it was mine, mine alone. No roommates and an all inclusive rent. I had also managed to get internet connection, on my own, as well as my own cell phone bill. That’s a feat my friends.USA USA USA!

That specific flat was atop a hoagie (sub/sandwich) shop AND a gun shop. My neighbors were a bunch of illegals as well but from the south. They were loud and made me fear doing my laundry in what became known to my friends and family as the “rape trap”… an NYC style metal trap door that lead to the basement. I carried my tazer at all times. 

I remember clearly when this fear of laundry started. It was all fueled by doing laundry while reading Cormac McCarthy’s The Road and arriving at the passage where the protagonist and his son stumble on a property and find a similar kind of metal door in the ground… Upon opening it they found a bunch of scared, skinny people that had been locked in and were being saved to be used as food for the “bad guys”. Yeah, That’s why I started taking my tazer with me because, quite frankly, the dudes next door might have been rowdy and have had terrible taste in music but they were nice guys. 

The kitchen in that apartment also didn’t have any drawers… I kept my utensils in a plastic case on the table. The shower was built for, what I can only presume, fat midgets. It was so roomy that I had my entire shower caddy (on wheels) INSIDE the shower itself… but I’d have to bend my knees to wash my hair. I also had a system when it came to water temperature. It started warm, then would go cold then scolding hot. So I’d do basics… then shave, then rejoice in burning my flesh for 10 minutes after freezing for 10. 

My oven was build for Barbies. It was so small and only had 2 working burners. My fridge had one of those “you need to thaw me every few weeks” kinda freezer and the temperature inside the fridge was chilly at best. I remember once going shopping at this awesome asian market where I bought all sorts of frozen vegetarian goodies and had to keep them in a cooler that i had a rope attached at the handle and left out on the roof outside my front window. I bet it was a real puzzling sight for cars passing by on 309. GHETTO FAB YALLZ!

So whenever I have any complaints about my living quarters I remind myself of that very special little apartment. Where the living room was like a large hall and the kitchen like a decent sized bathroom. I think of that place and remember how happy I was to have my OWN place in a strange country after years of struggling with roommates and having moved 9 times in 3 years. 

The only difference now is that since I am a legal citizen in my own country I can complain and ask for rent reduction for this stupid shit and not fear repercussion. 

Next step, well fare! ATTICA!