Don’t Touch My Shit

As I got back from London, I realised my knife has gone missing. Unless it has legs or ability to fly, somebody has been touching my shit.

This morning, I woke up happy to the prospect of making tuna sandwich with the ingredients I had just bought yesterday, but my can opener had mysteriously vanished. Somebody has been touching my shit.

And I suspect the person responsible for touching my shit is the one who had just moved out.

I’m not against sharing my stuff but I cannot consume or be in contact with pork. What if you had used the knife and the can opener for a can of pork sausages, or cut bits of bacon with it. I have been tolerant enough hardly minding the bits of forbidden meat or open packets of salami in the refrigerator.

Please, don’t touch my shit.

Here’s a funny video from featuring Leighton Meester, “Don’t Touch My Shit”.

4 thoughts on “Don’t Touch My Shit

  1. all I can say is, samak your cutlery? its alright as long as u wash it. insyaAllah. sabaar. sabaar.

    it takes a lot of patience to live side by side with people of different cultures but it can be done. =)

    ooh, I just realised the change of background! i like it!

    1. Me love the background too! Thanks!

      Ah. Good advice there. Forgot that I could actually ‘samak’ that thing.

      Patience is a skill I am picking up, albeit slowly. But getting there, getting there hehehehe.

  2. I’m not religious, but it still irritates me when people touch my stuff without telling me! Even worse is when they don’t clean up or put it back after they’ve used it! One question: would you have minded as much if they had washed your stuff and put it back?

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