kitchen shenanigans

we've decided that we need a corridor slave.

because washing up is too hard to do.

preferably eskimo, so he/she will be small enough to fit in our utilities closet.

also, many things get lost in translation.

for example:

K: A, did your hair get blonder?

A: ah. so. yes. my hair's always getting longer.

K: no! blonder!

A: yes. my hair's, uh, growing.

K: no! blonder! like J's!

A: ano....yes, J's hair is very long. my hair's not so long.

K: i give up.

me: he means lighter.

A: AHHHH. so des ne. yes, it's gotten lighter.

K: that's what i was asking.

(C just laughs at us)

quite coincidentally, the four of us were in the kitchen at lunch time and our lunch choices truly reflect our origins. K the swede wasn't eating, A the japanese had ramen, C the french delicately dipped his honeyed toast in milk and i'd fried my leftover smoked pork with egg and rice (a lazy person's chao fan of sorts).

in related news, B, the other french corridormate bought a computer cable for our busted rice cooker. the cooker K holds me responsible for destroying, even though i insist it wasn't me. but i did conveniently disappear for a fortnight post-destruction. why our cooker now works with a computer cable's beyond me. under K and A's watchful eyes, they gave me a rice cooker crash course and i successfully made my first handful of cooked rice with it. is pleased.