i am not racist. nor am i a man-hating dyke from hell.
however, if i get one more middle-eastern man replying to my roommate ad,
i will freak out like a red-headed step-child.
not that i have anything agaisnt red-headed step-childs either.
i just heard they throw good hissy fits.

in fact, half of my incoming phone calls are people i don't wanna talk to.
"is this the psychiatry ward?"
yes. and no body loves you. you are alone in the world.
you are doomed, doomed, doomed.
have a nice day and thank you for calling the psychiatric ward.

"can i share a room with you?"
no you cannot share a room with me.
the last person who "shared a room with me" was spontaneously kicked out.
as fun as it might sound, apparently, it was no barrel of monkeys.
if i were you, i would request the spare room.
upon passing this phone test, you will be invited to look at the apartment.
looking at the apartment means exactly that.
it does not mean staring lustily at my body.
while looking at the apartment, the less you talk, the more concerned i get.
its your chance to shine. show me how great you would be to live with.
show me that fab personality i would want inhabiting the room down the hall.
if you don't say more than 4 words, that worries me.
it makes me wonder what is going on in your head.
this is not to say that people who talk a lot actually say what is in their mind.
but at least they distract me with words. so many words.
so if you want to live with me, you must speak. english and/or french.
thank you and best of luck.