My Roommate Smelled Like Rotten Milk and Garbage

Which, I feel bad saying considering she was very nice. But still. Rotten milk. And Garbage.

Yet more thoughts on "The Hostel".

Well, let's see.

a great place to stay if you enjoy the following:

~being stared at by the French staff like you were personally responsible for every wrongdoing in their country.
~Being called a "war-monger" by a gay Brit whom you've only just met.
~Realizing the "under 35 age limit" is complete bullshit when you met are accosted by a 41 year old Italian man who still uses the word "Barbarian" to describe anyone who is not Italian.
~Realizing the "Soda for sale" sign is a complete and bold faced lie.
~the joys of one working shower. In the basement. You are on the 4th floor.
~cold stares from just about everyone.
~absolute elation and the fastest packing EVER when it's time to check the fuck out of Hotel-Substandard.

I realize it was a Hostel. I do. But COME ON. For what they charged, and how scary the other places looked, you'd think there'd be some quality control.

Nope.

I blame the French.

And no, I don't feel bad saying it because no one else around here has a fuckin' problem telling me how they feel about my goddamned people. So, from now on, the next goddamned person who gives me shit about my War mongering country...after I tell them to kindly remember that I have a brother shipping out AGAIN, that if it wasn't for us, these fuckers would all be speaking fucking German.

YEAH! I SAID IT!


Manchester.... please be kind.