Friday, August 6, 2010

5/10 - look what i saw at work today

It's a penguin!

This note in the cafeteria is just weird. The English is so crappy that I don't even know what the hell they're trying to say.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

life lesson #3

This one might sound depressing, but..

The majority of life consists of just existing, and doing what you're expected to do.

And once you accept that, it's actually not that bad. You just have to find a way of life that you can learn to enjoy, something that's worth working for. A cage that you have built for yourself, instead of one that others force upon you. Maybe that cage won't feel like prison at all.


Months ago, I signed a contract with my university. In this contract, I traded 8 hours and 36 min of my day in exchange for getting 7 hours and 21 min paid. We don't get paid for breaks, but we are forced to take them. Kinda sucks.
The contract lasts for 10 days in 2 weeks. A few hours ago, I finished day 4. I am doing what they call "maintenance" of the university, more specifically, this means that I'll be cleaning offices in the biomedical research facility.

After the initial horror of my first day at work (I'm really not used to working, I'm a lazy bum), I learned to enjoy my job a little. The offices that I'm now giving their big annual cleaning belong to professors that teach classes to me. I now know which of my profs is messy enough to keep the floor of his office filled with unpacked carton moving boxes. He also leaves coffee stained tissues on his desk; a desk that is by the way filled with big heaps of papers, some ancient enough to be printed in 2004. I discovered that the one cranky looking prof suffers from significant hairloss; she also collects wooden insects and owns an old record player. It's also intriguing how, although they all have the same basic layout, all offices are a bit different: some profs have two desks, some have a big table for meetings, some have more closets. Just looking at these things gives you an idea of how the person works, and what their priorities are. The neatest looking office of them all (I couldn't even find any papers lying around) turned out to belong to a person that let their plants quietly wither away. They were right there on the window-sill, dying.

Ok fine, cleaning offices is really boring and I'm so glad that I'm only doing it for 10 days. I can't even imagine the sadness of having to do this kind of work for the rest of your life. But I'm starting to learn how to find enjoyment in the little things, and get a understanding of how manual labour can be fulfilling in its own way. I know that I'll regret saying that tomorow morning, when I dread going to work and wishing that I could just go sleep again.

But you know's nice to observe my possible future workplace from the viewpoint of a humble cleaning lady. Maybe I'll even get to see a lab. Maybe.

Monday, August 2, 2010

life lesson #2

You all know the age old problem: you come home from a long day of work and want to go make dinner. Your sleepy feet drag you to the kitchen, where you open the gas and light the cooking plate. You take a pan to bake the cute little meatballs that you prepared on beforehand. When finished, you put them aside so you can start with the delicious cherry sauce. (you have to cook things separately because you can only use one of the four cooking plates in your kitchen. yeah, your kitchen sucks that much.) The ingredients for this cherry sauce happen to be in a jar. You can't open the jar. Mission failed. Aborting plan to eat dinner tonight.

The stuck jar, it's a problem that every woman living alone will face. It's nature's way of telling a woman that it's time to get herself a man. Now there are two possible solutions to this problem. 1) Find a man to open these damn jars for you, or 2) Find a way to cheat life and open them yourself.

Since I am all alone here and don't have access to men, I had to take the second option. I tried everything: using a dry towel, bottle opener... Ok, that's about all I tried before I started stabbing the thing with a knife. And you know what, it worked. As if accepting defeat, the lid budged and granted me access to the delicious cherries inside. Awesome. Why didn't anyone tell me this before?

So my life lesson for today:
Stab it with a knife. It's the easy solution to every problem in life.

Sunday, August 1, 2010


While cleaning up some stuff yesterday, I found this. A little heart shaped stone that someone gave me a long time ago.

We also discovered a silver clam box that was hidden in the clutter of my sister's closet. She let me have it.

Things like this make me sad...

Artificial virginity hymen. From the product site:
No more worry about losing your virginity. With this product, you can have your first night back anytime. Insert this artificial hymen into your vagina carefully. It will expand a little and make you feel tight. When your lover penetrate, it will ooze out a liquid that look like blood not too much but just the right amount. Add in a few moans and groans, you will pass through undetectable. Its easy to use, clinically proven non-toxic to human and has no side effects, no pain to use and no allergic reaction.
Seriously people, anyone that buys this deserves to die. Don't go have sex if you're not ready to face the consequences. I'm not saying that everyone should stay a virgin until marriage, it's a personal choice. A choice that shouldn't be forced upon people by their family or religion. Because I'm guessing that this product gets bought mostly by muslim girls that aren't virgins when they get married and want to avoid being stigmatized. But yeah, faking things like this is just wrong on so many levels.

Also, hymen virginity. Anyone knows that the hymen can break in other ways as well, and this doesn't make a girl any less of a virgin. Losing your virginity is an emotional thing, not something physical. People that don't understand that...make me sad.

Ah well. If any girls wants to fake their virginity, you could buy the product here. But please kill yourself after use.

the hand

meh. I don't even like these ones.