This is not a real post.

It's ironic....but the more interesting my life gets....the less I wanna blog about it.

Bodoh sial...

This is an anticlimax. My bad.

There’s a possibility that my asshole housemate is an evil genius.

 

So picking up from where I left last, I was all gearing up for an argument with Le Fucktard- I was just waiting for Tanya to leave the house. I gave it an hour so round 10pm I left my room to go knock on Le Fucktard’s door so that we can have our “talk” and guess what, fucker wasn’t home. No dude, seriously. His bedroom’s door was open and so was Tanya’s. I wasn’t satisfied so I went downstairs to check the laundry room just in case he was cowering behind the washing machine or something….but nothing. I was home alone.

 

 

Fucker ditched me.

 

 

Dude, I was even more pissed at that point. The fuck. You do not leave the house when I wanna yell at you. You just don’t. Period. I was so pissed I took out the frozen chocolate cake from the freezer and started eating. Emotional eating yo. Do you know how frustrating it is to look forward to yelling at someone and finding out the fucker wasn’t home? Wah, damn frustrating okay. I went to bed angry that night.

 

 

But I didn’t get a real good sleep cause my throat have been sore for the last few days. I think the frozen chocolate cake was the last straw cause I was pretty much coughing and clearing my throat all night long. Then at about 2am there was a knock on my bedroom’s door. I know it was 2am cause I go to sleep with my mobile phone okay. At first I thought I was hallucinating and then I heard it again. The knock.

 

 

On my bedroom’s door.

 

At 2 in the morning.

 

 

At first I thought “Oh, NOW he wanna have the talk? Fucker.” Then it occurred to me that people don’t talk at 2 in the morning. Which bring me to the next logical explanation in my still drugged with sleep mind- he’s outside my door. With a knife. And the moment I open the door he gonna stab me cause he is a psycho and he is pissed with me. Dude, I totally woke up at that point. I was like “Shit! Shit! I have no exit strategy! Ohmygod ohmygod! The window has bars on it…..maybe if I kick it really hard I can still get away.” And then he knocked again.

 

 

There’s nothing else I could do but to open the door. I opened it slowly and he was standing there, but instead of holding a knife to stab me with….he was holding a bottle of cough medicine. I stared at him.

 

 

“Hey, I was downstairs watching the TV. I can hear you from down there. You sound pretty bad.”

 

I just stared at him.

 

“I got this cough syrup. It could make you feel better.”

 

Even in my paranoia induced mind I realize something: "This fucker is goooood." Oh man, he gonna be one smooth ass lawyer.

 

So I was like “No, I’m okay. My mom gave me like a whole bag of medicine before she left. So yeah, I got it covered.”

 

“You sure? Do you need Strepsils or something? Cause I think 7/11 is still open. I can go get it for you.”

 

Oh yeah….he is goooooood.

 

“No, I’m good.”

 

So we just stood there, staring at each other. Me still dry coughing, he in all his evil mastermind glory. And I did the only thing I could. I gave him his chocolate bunny. You see, it’s Easter now and there are chocolate bunnies all over the place. About a week ago I bought 2 chocolate bunnies for him and Tanya, as a gesture of goodwill. This was before the whole not-cleaning-after-himself-fuckery. I already gave Tanya hers but because I was pissed with Chris, I decided that I am not gonna give him his bunny. I’m gonna eat it myself. Fucker won’t be getting any bunny from me. But the hell, he was standing there at 2am with cough medicine okay.

So I gave him his bunny.

 

“Oh thanks CD. Do you celebrate Easter though?”

 

“No, but you do. Enjoy your bunny. I’m gonna try go to sleep now. Nites.”

 

So I went to sleep again, not knowing whether I should be happy that I am still alive and not stabbed to death….or be wary cause my asshole housemate is an evil mastermind.

 

 

Clean, my ass

Well hello there, here we are back again at yet another instalment on Dramatic Musings in which I bitch about Mr. Clean. Otherwise known as the Australian-fucktard-I-live-with. Well then, settle in, get comfortable and enjoy the post.

 

See, I dunno whether I mentioned this before or not but when I moved in here I was told by the Australian-fucktard-I-live-with that there are a set of rules in which I am supposed to abide by when living in this house. The rules are as followed:

 

1)     No guests stay over more then 2 nights in a row. In fact he would prefer it if I bring no on home at all.

 

See I am totally cool with this rule. To tell you the truth I kinda like it cause it gives me the privacy that I crave and it would stop people from always wanting to crash at my place. Also, I have never mentioned this before but the bedrooms doors in this house have no locks. Only the front door, the backdoor and the bathroom have locks on the door. See this is a house based on the “Concept of Trust” or some fuckery right that. The rule is thart when you leave the house, you don’t close your bedroom’s door. You leave it wide open. When you’re home, you close it. It works as a signal too. And the system works to certain extend cause I have lived here for 2 months now and none of my stuff have gone missing. So yeah, okies.

 

2)     No dishes stay out all night long.

 

It’s more of a hygiene issue. You wash the dishes as soon as you used them, leave it out to dry and then keep them at night. So no dishes stay out at night. Sometimes once a while I don’t keep mine or the other 2 do the same and it’s cool. As long as you keep it the next morning but the ultimate thing is that no dirty dishes in the sink.

 

3)     “Don’t come home late at night, if you need to come home at 3am you might as welll don’t come home at all.”

 

He said that to me. I told him seeing that I am paying the rent which technically makes this house my house as well, I come home anytime I want. I’ll keep the noise to a minimum.

 

4)     Don’t turn on the music or TV too loud.

 

Understandable.

 

5)     No showers above 15 mins or we have to pay extra.

 

I take one hour showers everyday, I told him I’ll pay the extra. Stupid fuck. I blame my parents for making me stay here.

 

6)     People have to do chores according to the duty roster.

 

Okay so the house has a duty roster. Dissapeara and I share one bathroom, and le Fucktard has the master bedroom. So let me break it down to you.

Dissapeara and I take turns washing the bathroom and vacuuming the top floors cause its carpeted on alternate weekends. This has changed now seeing that she hates vacuuming and I hate washing the bathroom. So now she does the bathroom every weekend and I vacuums.

 

The downstairs floors is not carpeted. So on alternate week, either on Weds or Thurs, Dissapeara and I take turns moping and le Fucktard does it over the weekend. Cause over here we wear shoes inside the house and the floor get dirty real fast. So the floors get done twice a week. Supposably.

 

The kitchen, well its understandable that you should clean up after yourself after you use it. Wipe the hot plate, the counters, the microwave, what not.

 

We have a lawn. Le Fucktard supposed to mow it once it gets unruly.

 

 

So basically those are the rules, in a nutshell.      

 

Last Sunday, while I was doing the laundry, I noticed that le Fucktard was in the kitchen making sandwiches. Fine, then about an hour later after I’m done hanging up my clothes I noticed that he did not clean up after himself in the kitchen. There are bread crumbs on the counter and unwashed dishes in the sink. Fine, I was feeling charitable so I wiped the counter and did the dishes. Sometimes this happened. People are late for class and then all kinds of shit happen and did not clean after themselves. After I’ve cleaned up after that asshole, then only I realise that it was Sunday. And there’s no class on Sunday.

 

Fine, shit happens.

 

Then same shit happened on Monday and I’m like…okay. Interesting. Then on Tuesday the dishes piled up. I asked Dissapeara and she said it wasn’t hers. And then microwave dinner boxes started turning up all over the kitchen counters. Le Fucktard didn’t even bother to fucking throws it into the bin. See, after the whole fish-incident…I have stopped buying TV dinners and now I just cooked for myself. Plus those things taste like crap. Dissapeara cook for herself too and the only one who eat that shit is him. See now I am getting pissed but I have not bumped into him and I’m like “Maybe he has exam and is just stressed out. Maybe his mom is sick. Maybe maybe maybe….” Then this morning I went downstairs for breakfast and lo and behold what should greets me in the morning but his leftover TV lasagne on the kitchen counter and apparently a bunch of ants have made their home there overnight. No seriously, imagined lasagne that was left overnight. And then ants swarming all over it. It was disgusting. I could clean it, I could but I just pour myself a glass of orange juice and drink it while watching the ants have a mighty feast over that lasagne.

Then I washed my glass, went upstairs and knocked on his bedroom’s door.

Die stupid racist fuck! Die!

 

 

It was about 9 in the morning. I woke him up cause I could hear him grumbling as he gets up and walk towards the door. The fact that I woke him up made me happy.

 

 

 The moment he opened the door I was all smiles.

 

“Hey Chris*, did  I woke you up?”

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

“Good. We need to talk.”

 

“Bout what?”

 

“Are you okay? Are you sick or something? Do you have an exam that you are stressed about round the corner?”

 

“No, why?”

 

“Cause I thought that might be the reason why you have not been pulling your weight around here. The reason why you haven’t done the dishes or clean up after yourself in the kitchen.”

 

“No I just don’t want too.”

 

Le Fucktard totally said that.

 

“Oh, and why is that?”

 

“Cause Tanya* haven’t done the floors.”

 

Seriously, he said that.

 

“She done the floors yesterday.”

 

“Yeah but I told her to do it before and she didn’t and I won’t do my dishes because of that.”

 

See what I have noticed that le Fucktard is a racist bully that thinks he’s better then Dissapeara and I just because he is white. The thing with Dissapeara is that she doesn’t fight him back so he walked all over her and make her do shit.

 

“So how does that make sense? She doesn’t do the floors and then you don’t do the dishes and we all live happily ever after? See Chris, the lawn is getting unruly and one of these days snakes are going to move in and call it their home cause you haven’t mow it. But you don’t hear me or Tanya making noise about it or see us not cleaning up after ourselves and leaving the kitchen in the disgusting mess that it is just cause you don’t pull your weight around here.”

 

He just shrugged.

 

“Listen we are all busy here. Tanya works. I have assignments, just because we can’t do the house chores on time doesn’t mean we are not going to do it. We do it. We are all adults here, not a bunch of 12 year olds playing the blaming game. Seeing that you just woke up you wouldn’t know that a whole bunch of ants are downstairs in the kitchen, having a feast with the lasagne you did not clean up last night. Now you see, I don’t like that.”

“I don’t like it either.”

 

“Then why do you do it?”

 

“Cause Tanya….”

 

“No. This is not about Tanya. This is not about her. This is us talking now. This is about you being immature and trying to put the blame on someone else when you are the one not pulling you weight around here. When I decided to move in here, I was led to believe that this was going to be a clean house. That people actually respects each other in this house. And quite frankly, with the way you have been acting I feel that I was lied to. By you. And I don’t like being lied to.”

 

“No CD, why don’t we talk about this later. When all of us are home, when Tanya is home.”

 

“Good. Tonight then.”

 

I did not yelled when I talk to him. I was calm, I spoke slowly and I did not once broke eye contact. Fucker. After that I went out. Wah I am damn pissed off okay. There are so much shit I hate about him. He is very condescending towards me. He thinks just cause he is white he is better then me. Fuck that shit. I let it go for a while but the ants were the last straw. Fuck that. Tonight I’m gonna say it all to his face. When I got home bout an hour ago, the kitchen was clean though. So I’m happy bout that.

 

Tanya’s home now. I asked her in the kitchen just now if she wanna have the talk with Chris. She said she didn’t’ want too. She wants to go out with her boyfriend. The woman doesn’t like confrontations. I thrive on it. I’m waiting for her to leave the house and then I’m gonna call Chris and we gonna have our “talk”.

 

Stupid fucking asshole.

Yeah baby....multiple times

I know I said I’m on a hiatus but I just need to share this with you guys:

 

I watched Duplicity last night. Waaaaaaaaahhh, first movie I watched in the cinema here and it got Clive Owen walking around wrapped in a towel. And shirtless. And you know….in a towel.

 

It was so hot, I got a headache just watching that movie. He is so sexy, I cannot tahan!! Okay on the minus side of it he was sexing up Julia Roberts like nobody’s business but I like her and when I watch the sexy scene…..it’s just like something I’ve imagined in my head over and over again. Only he’s doing all that to me. Me bitches, me. Not Julia. Go away bitch, you got a husband and twins. Stop messing around with my man.

 

 

I want to tell you the movie is good. I want too. But I can’t. Cause I couldn’t pay attention. Now that I think about it, I'm not even sure what was goin on. Seriously. He was so hot, I cannot even think straight. I was just sitting there, absorbing the beauty and the hotness that came hand in hand in the form of Clive when my friend had to whisper to me

 

 

“If you don’t shut your mouth now, I would need to staple it shut. I swear to God CD.”

 

 

So in conclusion, Clive is a hot mofo. I want to do him. Why won’t he do me? Cause I would totally let him do me.

 

 Multiple times.