Perhaps I am a little unorthodox but I like my bath towels rough and sun-dried and quite small. A huge soft “bathsheet” is not a thing of comfort to me. It takes up too much room on the towel rack and always feels kind of damp from its massive “softness”. As my showered body prefers coarse utility, so does my a-hole: I like my toilet paper scratchy and as few-plyed as possible. It doesn’t feel right to use three-ply scented toilet paper that’s like a very luxurious tiny sheet. That’s okay in Australia because it’s kind of a thing to buy recycled toilet paper. But here, it’s hard to buy stingy paper. Here, they are ruled by “fei see”, which kind of means “to save face”, a concept which is of paramount importance and consideration in every aspect of life. Everyone strives to save their faces all day every day. Part of “fei see” means having the best of everything, including the newest and best toilet paper. Prominently written on each individually wrapped roll is: “Made from virgin pulp!”
Fruit in the supermarket (i.e. mandarins, oranges) is also individually shrink-wrapped. At Maccas, there’s a sign on the counter that says “Save the environment! Say no to straws!” and yet the drinks come in cup-sized plastic bags.
Anyway, this isn’t a post decrying the woeful inadequacies in environmental policy here. I just wanted you all to know what toilet paper I like. Also, I have a number of other things to say.
For example, on Sunday, we went to a party. I don’t eat meat or chicken, right, and the host kindly provided me lots of vegetarian and seafood dishes. I had to chew pretty hard through a very large piece of squid in one of the salads. I’m all “Don’t be rude! This is f’ing gross but keep chewing.” Turns out it was a chicken foot. THE FOOT. OF A CHICKEN. I ATE ALL THREE TOES AND AN ANKLE. It looked like this, but cooked down so it was more translucent and less obviously foot-like.
After I’d finished the host asked me if I’d liked the salad and I said I had, asking if it was squid? “Oh, it’s chicken feet!” “BUT YOU KNOW I DON’T EAT MEAT! ESPECIALLY CHICKEN!!!!!!” “But it’s just the feet…doesn’t count, right?” Oh not really I guess. Only HEAPS. I can’t stop reliving chewing through all the gross cartilage, and swallowing the chunky rounded toe-ends, nor can I stop thinking that I now have a clawed foot inside my stomach. It’s like being pregnant, but disgusting, like with an inter-species parasitic twin. I’m probably already dying of toxic shit foot disease. This is definitely the worst thing that’s happened to me in ages, or maybe ever.
And so you don’t have to ask: no, surprisingly, it didn’t taste like chicken.