(About the title of this post, it has nothing to do with the post, I just like Spongebob Squarepants. He lives in Bikini Bottom and at the beginning of some episodes this french artist voice narrates "Ah, another day in Bikini Bottom." And I just want to say, "Ah, another day in the life of me.")
Most of us don't know it, but when a woman becomes a mother she is given unlimited access to orders of chill pills for her children. She can distribute them as she feels necessary with or without the child's knowledge, or just take them herself. Yes, mothers have inherent gifts, many of them, but some of their soothing capabilities do not come naturally. Only when they have children do other gifts readily develop sometimes quite mysteriously to most onlookers. At any rate, you're probably wondering how I found out. I found out today, actually, as I contemplated the tightness of the pooh holes of some of my roommates. They are sisters. I also live here with my sister and then three other girls. It suddenly became apparent that these two other sisters have never taken (or been given) chill pills. Now, just so you know, chill pills are taken orally, not anally; however, chill pills definitely affect the tightness thereof.
Here's what happened. My mom had some slightly tight children before me and I think she took a few chill pills herself while she was pregnant with me and then continued giving them to me pretty much daily until I have become quite the tyrant to schedule, order, and/or seriousness. This way I was drugged by my mother has caused the reason for today's post, and it happened like this.
I didn't load my dishes in the dishwasher because there was room in the sink, because I had to run off to work, because of something, and like an annoying pop-up came a sticky note above the sink soon after the practice had been occurring maybe some couple weeks. It said something like "dirty dishes in the sink are disgusting! We have a dishwasher, use it!" Growing up I really only saw an empty, clean sink on Sundays. So, I tried to conform to their non-disgusting preferences, but it gets kind of tiring squeezing the hole shut that much, so again, I reverted to the chill pill killed areas of my character. Up came this note, typed and printed (we have a computer w/internet at the house but not a printer, so they went to great lengths) on 8 1/2" by 11" with a picture of a football helmet(?) on the bottom:
A Few Friendly Guidelines for Living With 7 Other Girls
1. Do your own dumb dishes and wipe up your own messes...despite popular belief, no one wants to clean up after you or do your dishes... we have a dishwasher, so there's no excuses for anyone being the messy kid!!
2.Don't leave clutter in the living room, on kitchen counters or on the bathroom counters... these are community living spaces, and let's be honest, no one really wants to be stumbling over your belongings or picking up after you!?!
3. The bathroom is for showering and using the bathroom...so ease up on the long spa treatments, ladies! Get ready in the living room if others are around... and p.s.... clean up your own hair after you shower, and p.s.s... when you shower ALWAYS have the fan on, otherwise we'll have mildew taking over our lives...or at least our bathroom ceiling. :)
Many thanks for abiding by these simple guidelines... we love you all, and there are no other girls we'd rather be packed in an apartment like sardines with!! :) cheers!!
I read it once; was rather disgusted by it. It was screaming with bossy "we only have three girls in our bedroom which is the bigger bedroom with a walk in closet because we make you give us your money for rent" ridiculous attitude all over it. (We have a two bedroom apartment, one bathroom, 7 girls. You understand the need for a few chill pills in this environment.) The bold items remained while all [items] were barred by permanent marker (black).
So I got my english-major, chill pill O.D. revenge on them. This piece of paper tacked in the wall above the sink that would never be read a second time in its original print was...edited. dun dun dun!!!
A Few Friendly [Guidelines for Living With 7] Other Girls
1. [Do] Your own [dumb] dishes [and wipe up your own messes...] despite popular belief, [no one wants to] clean up after you [or do your dishes... we have] A dishwasher[,] so [there's no] excuses [for] anyone being [the] messy [kid]!!
2.Don't leave [clutter in] the living room, [on] kitchen [counters] or [on] the bathroom [counters] ... these are community living spaces, and let's be honest, no one really wants [to be stumbling over your belongings or picking up after ] you![?]!
3. The bathroom is for show[ering] and using [the bathroom...so ease up on the] Long [spa treatments,] ladies[!] Get ready in the living room if others are around... and p.s.... clean [up] your [own] hair after you shower, and p.s.s... when you shower ALWAYS have the fan on, otherwise we'll have [mildew taking over] our lives...or at least our bathroom [ceiling]. :)
Many thanks [for abiding by these simple guidelines...] we love you all, and [there are] no other girls [we'd rather be ] packed [in] an apartment like sardines [with]!! :) [c]hee[rs]!!
Well, the tight sisters read this wisely edited version of their well-thought, hard-worked list of guidelines with their bum cheeks getting closer all the while and the eldest stormed into her big bedroom with their shared double decker air mattress, complaining that it made no sense, in a violated tone. See what I mean? They didn't take it as a joke; they couldn't, quite frankly, and I pity them. As for myself, I was never going to read the rules again let alone follow them after the first time, so I figured making it funny would be, well, fun. But no, and life goes on, more stuffy and awkward than ever. Because I can chill and just do things their way for a month or two more (and out of fear just knowing I did a smart ass thing), I make an extra effort now to do my dishes and clean up my messes and let other people use the bathroom that's for showering using the bathroom....man, I was so sick of these: .... (I'll only admit that some revisions on paragraph three honestly make no sense.)