ode to the whiteboard

we have this little whiteboard in the apartment that we write random useless messages on... inga is standing over me and is trying to convince me it isn't useless but in fact advice. you be the judge...

- "boys suck, they make mess and they smell" (insert drawing of a fridge falling on a boy) jer's retort "this is not true"

- "mouldy bread is not our friend, nor are bananas with insect eggs on them. these things are wrong" (we had been in quebec)

- "inga, please stop putting your underwear in my pockets. thanks jay"

- "we are living like kings. maybe just minor princes... in a poor country, in africa, with limited produce" (after discussing how well we had been eating)