7:30a.m, the alarm buzzes. I have one hour to get ready for uni. I switch off the alarm, blink, and when i open my eyes again, it's 8:30. Shit....I get up like crazy, rush in the bathroom, and joggs my way to uni. I definitely have to be there by 9, as i still haven't got a clue of what my new timetable is. I run to the MLO (Modern Languages Office), ask for the timetable in question, to finally find out that i haven't any lecture before 1pm...typical...
I eventually go to the computer room and start TINKering my comp. There i come across some of my classmates, the "oh-my-god-you-dont-know-yet-which-books-we-have-to-read-for-the-end-of-the-semester" type. Even if they are right on that one, it won't make me like them more. When i enrolled in Socrates/Erasmus Exchange Programme, i thought it would be"an awfully big adventure"(Peter Pan's style), that i was gonna meet loads of interesting foreigners, keen on travelling, meeting, discovering, sharing and experiencing! Oh, the beautiful utopia! how naive i was! The great majority of them is actually a bunch of daddy's boys, more or less compelled to be there because daddy thought it would look good on their CV, and help them to enter the (how sacry!) current European system. Quite sad, indeed... Anyway, i also saw Mailys (another classmate, but thanks God, not from the same stripe), who i had a little chat with.
Later on, i caught Hannah and Strawb up at home, and we all went to the swimming pool to have a bit of exercise. Once we were back home, I worked a bit on "Peter Pimp et Fee Clocharde", until i heard someone entering the house. Given that all my flatmates were home (except Daljeet who was in India to sit his PHD), it freaked me out a bit. Though, i didn't need to PANic for long, as my nose eventually answered the questions I was starting to ask myself. The worst nauseating (and yet sadly familiar...) smell ever rushed into the house: Daljeet is back. Awesome. I really start considering that -a) that bloke killed his ex-girlfriend, and is hiding her corpse in his wardrobe.
-b) his favourite dish is dead rats, and as it is not that easy to find it in shops, he breeds his own flock.
-c) he took what i said about french cheese (namely that the older it grows, the better it tastes) for granted and tries to do the same thing with all the food he can find.
Whatever it is, "man, he stinks!" (Maria's style) This smell is SO strong that there's NO WAY it can emanate from his own body! And if it does, i'm ready to go and sell my organs to the Russian Mafia , if it could pay enough to buy him a supa powerful soap, his own bathroom, ornated with gold taps with spring water running from it, silk flanels and a flunkey to brush his goddamn arse (Trainspotting's style)! I know you are thinking that i'm exagerrating, but trust me, spend one day in my house when he is in, and i bet you won't laugh anymore, reading this! He is just a fucking skunk......A skunk and a psychopath, that's what i'm living with...Just perfect. Thanks God, there are still Darren (my flatmate), Hannah and Strawb, but still....I start thinking that there is no existing solution to this unusual problem ....so, please guys, if any of you have an idea that could resolve it, let me know! A generous reward will be offered to the genius who'll find a way to get rid of that smell for me!*colgate smile*!
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