I thought that I was used to the sloppy behaviour of our *ahem* foreign talents residing on the 3rd floor of my block. Afterall, we're all busy with school work. Who cares if the garlic that I'm dicing up lands on the microwave? Doesn't matter if the oil from the frying pan splashes all over the stove. No one would give a rat's ass about the sink being clogged up as we're all too bloody busy to use the rubbish bin located less than 50 cm from the sink.

The point of the matter is, I can live with messiness. Hell, I'm sloppy myself, I haven't cleaned my own room for the last 3 years, save for the time when I had a japanese exchange student at my place. What I cannot stand is the lack of common sense and common courtesy these people have.

Let me tell you about the straw that broke the camel's back. I was happily transferring items on Maple Story as Jewl said she was coming back after driving class to pia maple with me for fun since we all had a stressful week. As I was scurrying around like a hapless hamster stuck in a battery operated wheel, the smell of burning plastic hit me. Being one who have personally burnt 2 pots before, I identified that smell as the stench of burning pot handles. Now, my pantry's stove has a huge fire and if your pot's too small, the flames can reach the pot handle easily. (First hand experience okay?)

Okay, so I carry on with my work since the smell will persist for a very long time, as all odours do. (You know the kind of super chao B.O. you may encounter in the bus and even after the fellow gets down, you can still smell it for the next 10 bus stops?) Fifteen minutes pass and the smell is still there. Due to having inherited my mum's kaypoh characteristics, I decided to investigate. On the way down, the smell got stronger and stronger, nevertheless I pressed on. As I reached the 3rd storey, I saw 2 tiongs go to the toilet and they didn't seem to notice that there was a horrendously strong smell of burning plastic coming from the pantry just 1 metre away.

I entered the pantry, and to my utter surprise, there was nobody in sight. Bingo! My guess was correct. (durrr! First hand experience!) There on the stove, was the pot with a happily smoking handle. I walked closer to see what the bugger was cooking since the lid was the transparent type. Two eggs. So, someone decides that she wants some hard boiled eggs, hence she set a pot on with 2 eggs on max fire and went about her merry business. What sort of bloody moron is that? The pot handle has already turned to ash, except for the top part and the eggs had already expanded so much, the shell had cracked wide open. (See exhibit A below)

Who the hell screws up hard boiling eggs?! Here we are, all university undergrads, capable of solving and evaluating the trickest problems, yet we can't cook to save our lives. I would definitely not be surprised if the pantry caught on fire as the pot handle was red hot.

When things like this happen, I really question the validity of our education. Education without common sense is going to kill tons of people eventually and I'm not joking about this. So what if they get better marks in class when they don't have the common sense to (a) use a smaller fire if they are going to afk from cooking. (b) look after what they are cooking. Don't even get me started on the tiongs going to the bathroom. I can just imagine tiong 1 going, "Hmm, whats that smell?" and tiong 2 replying, "Beats me, must be the weather. Lets go bathe." and the next thing you know, the pantry burns down.

I'll admit that I have my prejudices, but seriously, if that girl's an engineering student, I will not touch anything that she has built or designed with a ten foot pole. Common sense is supposed to be common, apparently they are too special for it. In fact, I wonder if she managed to scald herself because she didn't notice that the handle has already disintegrated on the bottom. Hmm.
PS: I didn't exactly burn the pot handle since I was physically there to lower the fire once I smelt that horrible stench.

Exhibit A:

;I CREATED A SHEEP!
9:22 PM