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P came back!! She missed the bus (went to the wrong bus station). At the bus station, everything seemed to go wrong. The weather was hot, the vending machine ate her dollar, etc. Met a NFL guy who used to play for the Chicago Bears and now owns a few group homes, he offered to pay for her Masters degree if she’d work with his group home (she told him she was a Business major). He sent her over to the right bus station (“I could’ve been killed, but I was so frustrated I didn’t care”, she said), but the bus had already left.

So we took the eggs, butter, and cake mix down to the dorm’s kitchenette and started baking. There were 2 cake pans, but they were so rusty. We didn’t even want to touch the pans! We ended up baking the stuff in two cupcake pans, and a mixing bowl (!!!).

When greasing the pans, P looked around for grease in the fridge and cupboards. I had no idea what this was, and still have no idea. Does grease come in cans here, or spray? I greased the pans the only way I know how to – and the only way possible in Sabah – by using butter. P looked surprised at it, like she’d never seen it before.

And butter comes in a box here, in “sticks”… small individually-wrapped rectangles, about the size of a – uh – Nokia 2100 phone? Hehe, I don’t know any other way to describe the size. I have yet to see butter come in a block, like at home.

Watched a show on VH1 while waiting – I Love The 90’s. Ah, all those memories! Remember those slap bracelets? You’d slap them on your wrist and they’d curl around. “Pre-bondage for adolescents”, a comedian on TV joked.

The whole dorm started to smell like cake, and a guy dropped by. “P! What are you baking? I can smell it allll the way down the hall!”

Dinner – we ate the mixing-bowl cake and cupcakes on the floor, while watching 50 First Dates on P’s DVD player. And with chocolate frosting on top. Whee!

Our bathmates are strange. They cook in their dorm room, which actually isn’t allowed. My sister has a kettle, but a kettle is a kettle. THEY have a little stove, a frying pan, a rice cooker. The whole bathroom smells like kimchi. The smell of kimchi itself isn’t bad, but it gets bad when mixed with the smell of the toilet, the trash, various soaps and shampoo in a small room.

They use our tissue paper without asking (going through a whole roll a day), and use our soap and shampoo. Even my sister’s razor! Yuck! Tissue, soap, and shampoo is understandable, but using the razor is going a bit too far.

And today, they broke my sister’s bathroom mug.

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