Friday, February 16, 2007


Dear Housemates,

Stop cunting around. Yesterday morning, the kitchen was a fucking disgrace. Yesterday afternoon when I got home, the kitchen was a 40 degree, fermenting disgrace. Yesterday afternoon, when you got home, it was just an untidy disgrace, with all evidence of curdling chocolate milk washed, and in more extreme cases, burned. What the fuck are you all thinking, anyway? We live in a house where four adults share a small kitchen. It's summer. It's hot, and we have limited fridge & freezer space. We're all lazy fuckers and that's cool, but for christs sake, lets try and be vaguely hygienic lazy fuckers, yeah? The next time I have to clean chocolate fucking milk off every fucking kitchen surface, someone's going to get all the chocolate milk that they can handle - in their pillowcase. And don't think I won't add the finishing touches of soy, fish & oyster sauce that you seem to think compliment our bench surfaces so well.

The fruitbowl is for fruit. Edible fruit. It's not for the ongoing storage of rotten things. Same rule applies for the breadbox, okay? If you see something rotten in there, don't just shove it to the back and put your own bread in there - throw it the fuck out. Common fucking sense will tell you that the rotten food is just going to make your nice fresh bread taste absolutely foul and will turn it bad really quickly. And will someone tell me what the fuck the freezer is filled with, anyway? So far as I can tell, it's about ten trees worth of butchers paper that maybe, just maybe contains a brick. Unless it's a brick of coke and you're planning on splitting the profits, can you get rid of the fucking thing? There's no fucking room for our vodka & Krus' food (often one and the same, I believe).

Stop stacking dirty dishes on top of the microwave. Last week it caused an avalanche that killed several martini & beer glasses. Given our glassware is probably our most valuable asset, there was much upsettedness, so again, pillowcase full of glass, blah blah blah, and don't think we won't add the cake wrapped in tinfoil that we found among the crockery. Which reminds me - no filthy oven trays back in the oven... how can I cook you biscuits when there's embedded fuck-knows-what-in-an-inch-of-grease filling my cookie sheets? If there's no room to place your dirty dishes, or you have to travel to other rooms of the house to find a surface to place them on, it's a pretty good sign that the dishwasher needs stacking. Finding a saucepan full of rotting on the back deck last week was not only utterly confusing, but somewhat traumatic once the lid was removed.

Again, I remind you all that using the kitchen is not a right, it's a privilege, and one that I'm not afraid to revoke. There is nothing remotely democratic about our kitchen - it's mine, and I share it with you because I'm a nice person, so don't even think about starting on some sort of 'it's not fair, I pay rent - waaaaah' rant. And the fridge! The fridge!! If every time I go into the fridge to find some sort of vegetable to compliment the meal I'm cooking for you all, I only find piles of stinking, liquefied vegetables/deli meats taking up any space that I'd dreamt of filling with leftovers, I'm going to start cooking only for myself. In fact, I'll start cooking the same quantities, but then feed the rest to the cats. Or maybe serve it up in bowls and make you stare at it for hours. If you even think of trying to eat some, I'll throw a fucking cat at you.

When the bin is overflowing and you can't fit your rubbish in it, it means you should take it to the outside bin - not stack it on the kitchen floor for me or VG to remove later. And on a final note, keep the fuck out of the kitchen when I'm cooking unless you want a searing hot saucepan embedded in your arm. I manage to burn myself enough already - the last thing I need is a multi person/meal fatality, if for no other reason than your pasta will taste shithouse with the unexpected addition of blood.

Stop being crap. Maybe you can put yourselves to the useful purpose of finding out where all the forks & noodle bowls go... personally, I suspect they're doubling as ashtrays in *cough* someones room. Redeem yourself and clean the fucking bathroom or cut back the cunting rose or something. Only nice housemates get special treats like florentines.

The Rantolotl.


Krus said...

Number 1. I don't have any bowls or forks. The cat ate them. Honestly.

2. I'm declaring the annexation of the kitchen. It is now part of the Holy Empire of the Shed.

3. The freezer is filled with 4/5 bags of ice/ice/frozen water. 1/5 is filled with food or occasionally alcohol. I threw out a couple of the makeshift ice packs months ago but the little fuckers breed.

4. The bin.. yeh. I put cardboard next to it while i cook. Then being a dumbass forget that i put it there to take to the recycle bin. This is the only thing i admit to!

CJ said...

Even a small admission is enough - beware the Kitchen Inquisition my one expects the Kitchen Inquisition...

Anonymous said...

qué puede nosotros hacer para ayudarse, todos no tenemos que convenir toda la hora pero sería agradable .

Bozza said...

I have the perfect solution for Rantolotl to deal with her ultra-unhygienic house mates. Leave them with nothing to eat but dog food (or alternatively cat food). Also, make sure it's not an expensive brand like My Dog or Dine, Ideally it should be the cheapest brand of pet food you can possibly find.

Anonymous said...

A antes de que tiro del maquillaje y después de tiro del maquillaje. Y déjeme le dicen, un qué maquillaje de la diferencia hace. Es casi como algunos de estos Web site que se sientan que tienen que poner encendido una demostración con todos sus gráficos de lujo y animaciones de destello.