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Waiting for exams to start always gets me talking… and talking… and I’m unlikely to shut up any time before the exam starts; it’s the nerves, I tell you

So it’s not wonder that the following discussion perplexed me… and I in turn, perplexed my classmate.

Professor: (…) I really don’t want to appear sadistic.
Me: Sadistic in what way?
Classmate: In a Bill Gates sort of way, “I really don’t want to rule the World”…
Me: That’s more like irony… or sarcasm.
Classmate: Is it? I’m too tired to differentiate right now.
Me: er…sadism is about wanting to inflict pain; sarcasm refers to stating the opposite while we all know it’s not true… or something like that
Classmate:… if you say so…

I’m still not sure which it is… but it gives you an idea of what goes through my mind before exams: a load of… *cough* You get the point.

Yesterday, yet again unhappy with my furious typing speed¹, my dad turned my chair (it’s the kind with wheels) from the computer to the TV. A local TV channel was discussing music piracy (i.e. illegal download of music files).

Here is an excerpt, of the discussion:

Spokesperson: We will be discussing the moral issue of this topic, with Mr X, who is a theologian.

Theologian: This is basically theft.

Spokesperson: Why do you think people steal music?

Theologian: It’s a way of rebelling against the rules, they know they are breaking.

It’s the IT thing, for rebel teenagers: protest by downloading the latest Linkin Park single. Can you imagine your parents’ faces? They’ll IMMEDIATELY succumb to you… or maybe not.

…and the grand finale:

Theologian: In the end we will answer to God, for all our sins

Spokesperson: mp3-s included?

Theologian (omnoiusly): Oh, yes!

So kids, check your pockets for stray mp3-s, you never know who’ll find them

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¹ I can’t help it, IM -ing fills my fingers with lots of adrenaline… or whatever else they’re supposed to be filled with.

I realize that this sounds incredibly childish, but I’m quite a vindictive person… well, whenever I don’t get distracted by something shiny

The story in short: our fridge broke down and fixing it, took the service company TWO WHOLE MONTHS. The actual fixing took them around 3 hours. What they were doing the rest of the time? Apparently enjoying their holidays, assuring us that our fridge did not start to smell like rotten cheese and/or claiming the parts needed to arrive from Korea.

Keeping all this in mind, I am perfectly entitled to be angry. Unfortunately I couldn’t exactly tell the guy fixing the fridge this, but I could do my best to be as rude as possible.

Maintenance Guy (MG): Are you sure you smelled the fridge, and not some stale cheese?
Me: Yes! I can still smell it as a matter of fact.
MG opens the back of the fridge, and notices a 5cm thick mould.

MG: I believe you might have smelled this mould, here. Come smell it.
Me (aghast): Yes, most probably.
Vera reluctantly leans down to smell even more of the foul thing (joy).

MG: It formed because the fridge wasn’t working and all that water couldn’t evaporate.
Me (staring at MG pointedly): So? How is that our fault.
MG (taken aback): Erm… I didn’t mean it that way…
MG goes down to his care to fetch his tools, huffing and puffing his way back up the four flights to our apartment. Yours truly doesn’t move a finger to help.

MG: Phew! It’s hard without an elevator.
Me (tartly): To the fourth floor?
MG: It’s not so easy when you have these tools with you.
Me (innocently): Risks of the job, I’m afraid.
MG smiles, possibly contemplating strangling yours truly.

Not feeling the least bit sorry, I related these to mom, who nodded sympathetically… at first.

Mom: … he was fishing for sympathy.
Me: He picked the wrong person.
Mom: It’s not his fault.
Me: It’s his company’s fault and I want to scream at him.
Mom: Could you at least wait until he fixes the fridge.
Vera sulks her way to the computer, while the guy fixes the fridge.

Mom: Could you help the poor man with his tools?
Me: I would, unfortunately they’re bound to explode if I did¹.
Mom: … er, sorry?
Me: The only way I’d help him, is by throwing those tools out of the window.
Mom is staring at Vera aghast.

I certainly hope he had a dismal day. Sure, that was way beyond childish, but I’m the one who had to sleep near the balcony door, constantly hearing the rustling of bags with the food. I even dreamed about the bags flying around town; the wind these past days had been particularly strong.

Oh yes, and I finally finished with my exams, so that means that a new layout (for this site), and YourSite reviews are in order… Can’t believe I swamp myself during holidays.

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¹ His tools consisted of some container with gas under pressure.