Due to my chaotic housing situation, I'm currently living in an emergency dormitory so multicultural it's almost laughable. Believe it or not, it's actually pretty awesome sharing housing with people from 17 different countries. To shed some light on the more pleasant and amusing sides of multiculturalism, here are a few favorite moments from my every day life, confirming just about every ethnic stereotype you could imagine (leftists, be aware):

Me and an Iranian discuss homosexuality

Me: So what would happen to me if I went out on the streets of Tehran and humped another man in public?

Iranian guy (with a casual look on his face): They'd probably shove a large wooden stick up your ass.

Me: Doesn't sound too pleasant.

Iranian: I know, it's kind of wrong, homosexuals are a little bit human, too.

Me and an Afghan joke about women

Afghan guy: Fuck this, I'm tired of doing the dishes, I need a woman.

Me: Hmm.

Afghan: I need a massage as well, you know.

Me: Swedish women would slap your face if you said these things to them.

Afghan: Why did I ever leave home again?

I spot my Finnish friend in the kitchen, drinking beer

Me: Sofiero, classy!

Finnish guy: Mm-hm.

Me: Wait, you're drinking strong beer on a Tuesday evening?

Finn: Yeah, there was one in the fridge.

Me: But you've been drinking beer every day since I met you?

Finn: Every time is a good time for a beer.

Me (nods): You've got a point there.

Those precious moments with Italians

Italian lady: Hello, how are you?

Me (after a long work out, stumbles into the kitchen): Hello, we need more toilet paper in the bathroom.

(Me, about to pass through, but is stopped by the Italian.)

Italian: Hey, Alex, it's not nice to tell a lady like that about the bathroom.

Me: I know, but it's the truth.

(Italian looks deep into my eyes, smiles, and continues to pour olive oil into the frying pan.)

The Russian way of dealing with dissidents

Belorussian lady: It's not clean here.

Me: I know, I'm going to arrange a cleaning schedule soon.

Belorussian: But people need to clean after themselves.

Me: Yeah, but they don't, do they?

(Silence.)

Me: What do you suggest we do with people here who cannot clean after themselves?

Belorussian (with a deadly serious look on her face): Shoot them.

Me: ...

Swedes and alcohol

(Me, in the morning, walks into the living room to have breakfast, suddenly hears strange noises by the couch.)

Me: What the ...

Swedish guy: Uuhhh ...

Me: Are you sleeping?

Swede: Not anymore.

Me: And what happened to ... you forgot your keys at the club, didn't you?

Swede: Uh-huh, and I was too fucking wasted to go back and get them. Can I have some of your food?

Twins

Afghan lady: Hello Alex!

Me: Hello Isra!

(5 minutes pass.)

Afghan lady: Hello Alex!

Me (suddenly confused): Hel- ... wait a minute here ...

(Afghan lady, shines up like the sun.)

Me: You're twins, aren't you?!

Two Afghan ladies (next to each other, smiling like two suns): Yes!!

Russian cooking

(Belorussian lady, placing bacon and cheese on sandwiches carefully, then inserting it all into the microwave.)

Me (observing while waiting for fish in oven): You know, if you try just microwaving the bacon, and then placing it on your sandwiches, I think you'd enjoy your food more.

Belorussian (slightly surprised): Really?

Me: Yeah. Right now, you're microwaving bread, which will become bendy like rubber after a few minutes in there.

(Silence.)

Belorussian (bursts out in a big smile): Help me cook!

Me (first considers the offer, then realizes how severe this case really is): I'd love to ... sometime.

Microwaving, again

Me (comes home after work out, is greeted by Iraqi guy with a big grin on his face): What's up?

(Iraqi continues to grin.)

Me (ponders, then realizes): Noooo!

Iraqi: Yes!

Me: Who did it this time?

Iraqi: The Iranian. He cooked something in the microwave and it began to create smoke. The whole roof (gesticulates with hands) was filled with smoke. Both security people and the alarm people came and had to reset it.

Me: Geez, you guys should stop using electronic devices altogether, before you burn the god damn place down.

The toilet mystery

Me (during the dormitory meeting, trying to arrange a cleaning schedule): So, anything else we need to fix?

Jordanian guy: Yeah, some people need to stop throwing used toilet paper into the paper bin.

Me (baffled): What?

(Jordanian, looking at me.)

Me: People have thrown used toilet paper into the paper bin?

Jordanian: ... and not in the toilet, yes.

Me (still baffled): Okay ... uh ... heh ... well ... I don't think I need to comment on that. Take it away, immediately.

Jordanian: Someone did the same thing in the bathroom in your hall as well.

Swedish guy: WHAT!?!?

Toilet mystery partly solved

Me (about to do the dishes, observes a Nigerian guy taking dirty plates and merely showering them with water, then placing them in the dish rack): Hrm, I think it'd help if you used dish soap.

Nigerian (looks at me with a straight look on his face): Oh yeah ...

Me: It helps to get those plates clean, as opposed to just making them shiny.

Nigerian: I know, I know.

(Me (ponders): No, you don't).

Being Swedish

Me (amusingly cranky, having dinner, joking with the Arabs in the living room): Analytic philosophy is awesome. Maths too.

Afghan guy (suddenly opens the door to the living room, wearing a pair of blue sports shorts and a creamy yellow t-shirt): Hi!

Me: Take that shirt off.

Afghan: What?

Me: Now.

Afghan: Why?

Iraqi guy: Look, he's wearing the Swedish colors!

Me: We don't feature creamy yellow in our flag.

Jordanian guy: What does it say on his shirt?

Me: Who cares, he looks faggy.

(Everyone bursts out laughing.)

Me (after a moment of silence): No, seriously, you do.

The bike ride

Me (in the morning, barely awake, phone rings): Yeah?

Belorussian (excited): Alex! I've found a bike!

Me: Mmm?

Belorussian: Can you please come and help me? I don't know what to do.

Me: Mmm.

Belorussian: I come and knock on your door in 20 minutes, yes?

Me (ends the call, drops dead in bed): Yes.

(1.5 hours later, outside a kindergarten, looking over a bike together with the owner, while Belorussian attempts to sit on it.)

Me (to the owner): Has the insurance run out? Brakes are okay? Why are you selling it?

Belorussian: Aaaaaaaaah!

Me: Holy shit, she cannot ride the bike!

(5 minutes later, after it's sold, Belorussian lady can barely maintain her balance.)

Belorussian: This is so much fun! But I mustn't tell my parents.

Me: How come?

Belorussian: In Belarus, owning a bike is a sign of poverty, unless you're a child.

Me (grins): Everyone in Sweden uses bikes.

Belorussian (trying to maintain her balance): I know, and yet you are not a poor people!