I feel guilty. I feel like I am abandoning Dramatic Musings. I mean I used to do 3 posts a week like clockwork and now I can’t barely squeeze in a post a week or even answer comments. It’s not like I have nothing to write about. I have loooads. I have all this weird little details about Mr. Clean, I mean…he’s a creepy weirdo. Like seriously. Fucking weirdo.
Do you guys know of Ted Bundy? He was this murderer back in the 70es and he killed like 14 women but the thing is he was charming and such a gentleman that nobody suspected him. And then when he did get caught, there was all this books that come out written by his girlfriend and neighbours. About all the telltale signs that should given away the fact he was psychotic serial murderer. I feel like that living with Mr. Clean. I am not even making this shit up. I feel like…..years down the road I will be penning a book “My housemate is a serial murderer….and he makes me mops the floor once a fortnight” or something equally trashy.
What I’m saying is, Mr. Clean? Creepy weirdo. Trust me to get a creepy weirdo as a housemate. Could have gotten a hot surfer guy that prances around the house shirtless, but nooooo…..gotten a creepy weirdo, possible psycho murderer for a housemate instead. On the plus side, I made good with the neighbours. I have been here 2 weeks and I’ve already gotten tea and dinner invitations. In fact I just came back from my next door neighbour’s house. The lady’s a nurse and her housemate is this dude that works for a steel company. I dunno what he does really but they’re really nice and the Nurse Lady made lasagne tonight and she rang me up asking if I wanna join them for dinner. Fuck yeah I want to join. Free food maaan and it’s just next door. I don’t even have to dress up, just go there in my t-shirt and shorts and brought a bottle of Coke that I have in the fridge. Australians are totally laid back.
So yeah, I have loads to tell. I have all these stories bout getting lost in the city and walking 10 blocks up the hill just to find a bus stop. About getting hit on by some dude on the bus and he was soo annoying so I looked him in the eye and went “Sorrrrie. Mi speak no engrrish.” About getting lost in the campus and ran screaming my head off when a fucking lizard just appeared in front of my feet from a damn bush. That’s what you get when your campus is enclosed within a forest. About this girl who asked me if I believed in democracy, then block the door so I couldn’t leave and went on tirade for like 15mins on how “We as a nation, need to rise together and fight the power.” Then I told her that I’m not Australian and then she got confused so I used that opportunity to make a run for it. About getting talent scouted for some hippie radio channel that wants a new news reader “Hey! You’re international and you have a cute accent. Want to read the international news for us?” About this mixed up at the bank that they sent me 3 ATM cards at the same time. About my first time cleaning the bathroom (scrubbing the bathtub is such a goddamn bitch). About going on my first Australian bushwalking adventure and getting sunburnt. About salsa dancing with this Arab guy that kept trying to grab my ass. And especially this one story when I was at the campus café, sucking on ice and then one of the ice slipped and felt into my shirt and happily enough lodged itself between my boobs. It was fucking cold that it burns. I think I was screaming “Shit! It’s cold! My boobs” and then proceed to reach into my shirt to get the ice out. All this was happening while I was having lunch with this Taiwanese-Australian guy whom I just met and now every time he sees me he ask “Hey CD, wanna go for ice?” with a stupid fucking grin on his face.
Yeah…"great" start to the new sem in a new uni.
But the whole point of this post is to tell you guys that for some reason another, after a whole night of debating with my own self…I have decided to join a fitness class that will definitely get my ass whooped. I signed up for boxing class. Yeah dude, I totally did. And not any boxing class but “Intensive Beginners Boxing class”. I have always wanted to box for a totally stupid reason. Okay…..cause of a movie. How cheesy is that? No no, not Million Dollar Baby. It was actually this flop called “Kiss the Girls” staring Morgan Freeman and Ashley Judd. I saw the movie when I was about 15 and I’ve wanted to take up boxing since then. And now I’m in my 20s…that’s quite a long time to be wanting to do something. I just never got around to it cause I was afraid of getting punched in the face but then I thought hey man, I got all the way here on my own why not just go for it.
I’ve asked the instructor lady on why this is “intensive beginners” instead of “just beginners” and she went on with some boxing jargon that made no sense to me. But what made sense was “3 hours weekly training for 8 weeks” and “we’re keeping the class small so that we can concentrate on the intensity. Only 10 students at one time. No more. You’re number 10” and my favourite “Oh we’ll play nice in the first 5 weeks cause we’ll be ringside. But by week 6 we’ll move into the ring and there will be cuts and bruises”. I think there was a lapse in sanity on my part cause even after all that I still want to do it.
Then after signing up and paying the fees, she asked me why I wanna box. I could say cause Ashley Judd made it looked good in Kiss the Girls….but what I said was “I wanna do boxing cause I have deep seethed unresolved anger issues.” Which is true. I do have anger issues, that’s why I’m so bitchy. I was expecting her to laugh or something but she smiled and said “Aaahh, that’s the making of a great boxer.” I dunno whether that’s just a selling point or she says that to everyone but I’m looking forward to my first class next week. Maybe finally I can resolve my anger issues….. while getting my ass served to me on a platter. Ringside.