Russian whores, anyone?

Anybody knows where to get cheap whores in Aussie?

No, seriously.

Cheap whores. I have been looking online but they’re kinda out of my price range. I need one for Mr. Clean. After a short discussion with friends, I have come to the conclusion that the reason why he is such a mothefucking pain in my ass with his extreme control issues is cause he is not getting laid.

Dude needs to get laid. Like desperately. And soon. Cause he is irritating me like fuck. The other day he walked into the kitchen while I was making potato soup and I had an almost uncontrollable urge to whack him over the head with the ladle. I even have the whole thing played out in my head. I would whack him with the ladle and when he goes “CD! What the hell did you that for?!!” in his country hick Aussie accent, I will let out a demented laugh and whack him again. Just for kicks.

He once told me that he thinks Russian chicks are hot. Seriously, exact words:

“Russian chicks are hot!”

Fucker said that when I was drinking okay. I almost choked to death. However now that we have narrow it down to the fact that he thinks “Russian chicks are hot”, it makes my search even more difficult. I mean where the fuck am I supposed to find Russian whores in Aussie now?

Honestly people, where?!!

I cannot stand living here okay. I mean don’t get me wrong I like it here. It’s walking distance to Woolies, the library, groceries stores, a pharmacy and hair saloons. It’s great. It’s very convenient for me. But lately I have been walking in straight between Mr. Clean and Dissapeara arguing. Do you know how awkward it is to walk in into 2 people arguing with each other? You try to be inconspicuous but you can’t cause you’re holding 2 bags of groceries and you need to put all the wet stuff away as soon as possible. So I was there in the kitchen as they go at it in the living room.

Awkward.

That’s the first time, the second time I was in the kitchen fixing myself a sandwich when Mr. Clean came down for a drink. Then Dissapeara came home from work. Then they started arguing again. And this time I was literally in the middle. Them bitches were at either side of me. I mean, seriously. What the fuck? Are you people fucking kidding me?

I think these 2 bitches just need go ahead and fuck each other and get it over with. Just fuck already. There is a sexual tension in this house and my parents have walked me right into it by making me stay here. 

Uhhh hey guys....can you guys take that somewhere else? Kthxbai.

They argue cause they can’t fuck each other. I’m hoping that they just would cause that would give me peace of mind. But then you know….God if they do start fucking each other then it would be so awkward for me. What if they do it on the couch? Eeeewwww…then I cannot sit there and watch TV anymore.

Not there you bastards!!!!

So that bring us back to the Russian whore. Where do I get one? I’ll take her home with me. “Hey Chris! Look a Russian chick…..you like? You liiiiiike?” If he asked I can just say that I stumbled on her when I was wondering in some dodgy back alley without any sense of purpose. Innocent mistake…..happens to everyone.

So if any of you know where to get a Russian whore in Aussie- hit me up. I need to get him laid before I start having thoughts of whacking him with my giant loofah instead.

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.

Damn, dirty fish thief

Man it’s been a week since my last update. I am a really horrible blogger these days. I am up to my eyeballs with readings and assignments. The fuck man, Australia is crazy. I thought the workload was a bitch back in HELP but daaaaayum, HELP was chicken shit compared to this. Even as I am typing this I have an assignment due tomorrow. I haven’t even begun typing it out but I have done the research. So after typing this post I am gonna procrastinate some more by tidying my room and blog surfing. Cause that’s how I roll.

 

 

Mr. Clean irritates me. Well not constantly but he’s such a moody weirdo that it is fucking irritating. Have you met someone whose face seems it’s set in concrete and that it seems impossible for them to smile? That’s him. Sourpuss McGrumpy Face. It’s like living with Grumpy from the Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Only he is not a dwarf. If he is I would have kicked him down the stairs long time ago. And then go down the stairs and kick him some more just for the hell of it.

 

 

He’s not a bad guy. Just too damn serious. It’s like he sucks out the mood of the room everytime he comes in. Before he arrives it’s like rainbows and birds chipping in the distance and Clive Owen were just about to leave his wife for me…but when he does arrive its like Death! Gloom!! War!! Completely suck the life out of everything. If he wasn’t studying to become a lawyer, he could have a steady job being one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The fifth one that makes everyone else as gloomy as he is.

 

 

But the whole reason of this post is basically cause I am pissed.

 

 

Dude ate my fish. I bought one of those microwave dinner thingy right. Fish fillet thingy. Undeniably it will taste like crap but I am in no mood to cook tonight. I had 4 classes today, that’s 8 hours of class and then I stayed back for 3 more hours to do research at the library. I thought hey when I get home I’m just gonna eat that and then do my assignment and go to sleep. Thursday is a looong day for me. When I came home, my fish fillet was missing from the freezer. It was missing. The fuck? It couldn’t be my other housemate cause she’s vegetarian. It has to be him. So I went and knocked on his door and asked him about it.

 

 

He looked guilty as fuck.

 

 

“Ouuuu I did not know it was yours. I thought it was mine but I couldn’t remember buying that particular brand.”

 

“It’s mine. I have the receipt.”

 

“Oh wow. Oooohh I get you a new one when I go do my groceries shopping next time.”

 

“Sure. I guess I’ll just have apples for dinner tonight.” And then I walked away.

Bastard didn’t even said he was sorry. I didn’t eat apples for dinner though. I was just being dramatic and I want him to feel really guilty. Had instant noodles instead thanks to that fish thieving bastard.

 

 

Now I know this is not a big deal. And he is going to replace it. I know. But I had a long day, I am sick and tired of instant noodles and fried rice and I was looking forward to that completely unhealthy microwave dinner. Just damn irritating you know.

 

 

Update:

 

Mr. Clean just knocked on my door. He asked if I want a ride to uni tomorrow cause he got a car. He never asked me that. I think this is some sort of apology in his big shot law student vocab. I said no. Feel guilty you fish thieving bastard.

 

 

Update 2:

 

I hope he gets food poisoning tonight. Bastard.

 

Hey y'all, I'm getting my ass whoop. Yay!

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.