Friday, September 16, 2011

The fault of the Sims.

After analysing my roster I've come to the discovery that I can make myself not home for the house inspection. This delights me a lot, especially since I have also discovered Josh will be home. So, much to his displeasure, I am shipping off to my hometown for most of a week and leaving him to the awkward situation that will surely ensue.

But that, disappointingly, means that I have quite a bit to do before I go home. For one, pretend that Elliot doesn't live here, as on paper he doesn't. I'm not sure what would happen if she discovered that he does, so rather than find out, I am going to make his bedroom look very much like a study.

This being my responsibility is my own fault. He intentioned to do it himself before he went home for the holidays but I persuaded him to instead spend hours trying to get the Sims to work on my computer because THE SIMS!!! The benefit of sleeping with living with a nerd is the ability to mention on a whim something that you feel like watching, playing or otherwise and then BAM he's built it from the internets. As it was though, it ended up taking way more time than we had to put it from his computer to mine because of *insert reason that I don't remember and didn't understand anyway here*. Piracy is a tricky business, apparently. So in the end, as it was insanely late when he did go to organise his room I told him I would do it and to go to bed because I didn't want him dying on the cartrip on the way home from being tired and having one of those microsleeps that Dr Karl is always talking about in his pyjamas. I don't want that on the conscience of myself and the Sims for the rest of our lives.

Man, I can not spell conscience. And I'm starting this new thing where I actually look the word up rather than just spelling it abysmally and then talking about how it's spelt abysmally. Which I guess isn't really working as I'm talking about it now anyway. Hmm.

Anyway I'm going to go be super sneaky and hide all the things that make his room look not like an office. Namely the clothes, manfume and bed that looks vaguely slept in. (I don't freaking know why it looks like that, I don't even remember the last time he slept there)

Adios

Thursday, September 15, 2011

like, like, whatever. OHMYGOD. zz

So it turns out not having facebook is the way to motivate myself to update. The bizaare thing is that I don't really spend that much time collectively on facebook, but it's always open, and I'm always flicking back to it and remembering something I have to tell someone or wanting to post something that just happened as a status. So not being able to do that is getting on my nerves.

I was perusing over old entries, for old times sake, and my goodness. I didn't think I'd matured that much between year 12 and now. It has been over three years since I started writing this, but I recall thinking I was pretty damn mature back then. And for fucks sake I was doing my Higher School Certificate. Studying Advanced AND Extension English. I know I definitely casual down my writing for something like this as opposed to an English essay, but capitalisation and paragraphing would have been nice.

I couldn't handle it, so I edited a few posts. I limited it to punctuation, spelling, grammar and paragraphing. I felt if I removed all the ridiculous occurances of 'like' or reworded sentences so they didn't sound completely ridiculous I would be somehow damaging historical artefacts. I need to be able to look back when I'm forty and remember how hyperactively retarded I was. Or something. I also have a new very important rule, that I re-read and edit any post 24 hours after I write it. I feel this is probably for the best. To save 23 year old me coming back and hating myself again.

I think the thing I find the craziest, is that I know when I was 17 I was looking at things I'd written when I was 14 and hating my past self. I don't think I was ever an age where I thought 'hey I'm not very mature right now, these things I am saying/writing sound dumb' and yet I always look back on myself and detest those things. Which make me paranoid because I'm completely secure in myself now, but the evidence seems to point to the fact that I'm actually a ridiculous person I just haven't realised it yet.

In the end, I think disciplining this writing is probably the best for my sanity.

Wow, I sure wish I had something interesting to write about...

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Life at the White House

So I managed to lock myself out of facebook. I changed my password, as I do every few months, after I get paranoid that too many people know my password and worry about the things I say in chat messages. Of course I then blab my password in general conversation and the cycle continues.

When I went to log back in the new password didn't work. Neither did the old password. I have no idea what I managed to do, because it makes you enter the new password twice, but I managed to try and work it out enough times that my account got locked for twenty four hours. Which is pretty awful on a day that I don't have uni, work, and Elliot left with his computer- ie my access to the Sims.

Oh, he lives here now. And Cody only kinda lives here. Cody, and his friend Josh. Or Herro, which is way easier because there is already one Josh in our house, fondly referred to as the White House by its residents and the troops of obscure and wide-ranging characters that come and go from its confines from time to time. Cody and Herro got a gig on a cotton farm. Driving tractors apparently, although I like to muse that they are off pickin' cotton or lament about the the old cotton fields in general, because I think it sounds way cooler, or atleast, southern. This means that they come and go, usually gone for a few weeks and then spontaneously in the house for a few days.

With them come, Lucy, Lucy's friend Alice who has this thing going on with Herro and any number of folk wandering into the kitchen munching on whatever we happen to have in the cupboard, traipsing from the front door to the garage with a simple nod of the head as they walk past the rest of us most likely doing something ridiculous awesome like playing risk. Only to return hours after we'd assumed no one one was home from the haze of the garage, cheerily say 'bye' as though we have any clue who they are, and return, in the form of somebody else in the morn.

The menagerie of drugs, people, people sleeping on the loungeroom floor and so on bothers Josh a touch. I tend to shrug it off, in return for having a few extra housemates for a few days and ignoring the ridiculous amounts of people coming in and out of the house (and not questioning what some of them are actually here for) we get Codys rent and share of the bills paid in full despite the fact that he quite often isn't here, the payments usually aren't on time, but they do come through. Not to mention, when they are home, free weed. Perhaps there is some deep psychology to it as well, a highly dysfunctional home environment is all I know.

I don't mean to paint the rest of us as motivated down-to-earth studious angels either. In fact, who am I fucking kidding, I live in a uni-style party house that is trashed most nights of the week. All my friends fuck each other and are drinking themselves out of livers three nights a week. Often in my loungeroom.

But, life at the White House is pretty boring tonight. Cody and Herro are out west. All the college kids and most of the uni town kids including Elliot have gone home. Josh is at a meeting. And I'm trying to get the Gruen Transfer to load while I procrastinate cleaning the ridiculous mess of a kitchen.

That being said, life at the White House is going to be worse next week when the incompetant real estate agent comes over for the house inspection. There is not even words to describe the cleaning we need to do. And how annoyed I am that I'm the only one that will be home to make awkward small talk with her.

And this, this is why I detest the holidays. I'm off to watch the simpsons clean the house.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

ixnay on the abybay

Man, all that crazy talk gets hectic. Onto something a bit more lighthearted for today.

So I slept with Elliot. We hooked up a few times, and then ended up sleeping together. It was, ...eventful. Or, uneventful, perhaps would better describe. I don't know that I should have been expecting anything spectacular from a guy who started talking about a boy he once had feelings for directly after the first time we kissed. I was like, damn, mood kill there.

Turns out though, he's only a 2 on the kinsey scale. So, that's good. I think. I'm about as confused as to whether this reassures me as I would say he was about his sexuality if it wasn't for our new-age approach to gender loving. Ironic thing is, I can be quite a bit bisexual myself. So I'm a massive hipocrit in even remotely caring that he's a big ol' 2. Or not a hipocrit, being that I did end up sleeping with him, post gay feelings revelation. I will actually post expanding on all this gen-bi stuff later, but for now, this wasn't even remotely where I was headed with this.

But yes, the sex. So considering that I wasn't certain this guy was actually into chicks, there could have been any number of things go wrong. What I wasn't expecting, was premature ejaculation. We've all seen the billboards, we've all heard the radio ads. It isn't fun. But I guess, at the very least, it cleared things up a little on the attracted to girls front. I think. I'm still really confused.

Here is what bugs me though. And yes, this was what the post was actually meant to be about. I do not like condoms. Before you shoot me down, I also do not like STI's. And honestly, if you offer me a plate of a latex or a plate of chlamydia at the buffet, you know which one I'm going to take. So if I'm not one hundred percent (well, maybe like 87 percent, you can never ever be certain) convinced a guy is clean, I'm going to don the love glove. But I honestly believe the feeling is atleast three times better without them. And the thing is, for the most part, if I'm not certain that a guy is clean, I don't really want to jump into bed with him anyway. Condom or no condom. And, naturally, I'm on birth control pill, being a 20 year old university student who is not currently planning a family.

So, ages prior to the sex, a discussion about STI's came up completely seperately to any sex having, and we both talked about how we'd been checked even though we were careful and bla bla bla. Kinda tidbit of information that gets stored in the brain for later use. This, coupled with being on the pill, meant I didn't suggest any use of a condom. But, neither did he, and promptly seeded up my lady parts. Very promptly. Very very promptly. Not the point. If he had asked, I would have simply said I'm on the pill, a discussion would have happened ending in no condoms. Same, result, but it still bugs me. Here is a guy who has no idea what (if any) birth control a girl who he is not in a committed relationship with is using. And is willing to just throw a load in nonchalantly. Which irked me a little too, because I like to be on the cautious side and ask that the gentleman kindly direct his ejaculation as far from my ovaries as possible. Of course, due to the timing of the whole incident, the opportunity had not arose.

It got me thinking more about the whole thing, and I realised, it's not the first time I've encountered an unconcerned attitude to reproduction. And the odd thing is that it's usually the boyfriends that actually show any commitment to the whole prevention is better than a cure movement. Boys that are less committed, don't give a second thought. How is there not a bigger concern out there? I mean, seriously boys, smarten up, or you're going to be in a less than pleasent situation. There are a lot of girls out there who think getting pregnant would be just grouse. And even more that wouldn't be as pro-abortion in a real life situation as you might assume.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Why Jill is cahrayzee. (And Cody is an Arse)

Part Three of the Crazy Chronicles.

So, back track a little to the break up. Of course, despite the insistances of Cody, him and Lucy had developed into more than just friends. And they kissed, which we all fully expected. What we expected to happen next, was Cody would feel bad, call Jill, apologise profusely, cry a lot, and all would eventually go back to normal. How wrong we were, how very wrong.

It is completely beyond me, how he managed to be in an 18 month relationship with a girl (crazy or otherwise) and then in a heartbeat, break up with her, without even seeing her, and start fucking another girl. Not even just that, but start spending almost all his time with her. It was beyond callous, and beyond comprehension. On top of this, Josh and I have absolutely no idea what is going on. When Cody will be home (if ever) or what his plans are with anything. Completely ready to kill him.

Between Thursday and Tuesday, we saw him for maybe 5 hours. Then the fun part starts. I hop on facebook, Jill starts with the standard 'hope we can still be friends' yes, of course we can. Fine. Next time I go on facebook. Talking to me. And again. And again. Until I eventually turn facebook chat off. Because of course, it's all "how is Cody??" "Is he sad too?" "I'm so sad" "I love him so much". Now I feel for the girl I do. And I whinge and carry on about my own break up. But for the most part I do it in my head, or on here. Or to Jack. Who cops all my crazy so no one else has to. <3. Not to random housemates of my ex, and not every freaking time they try to go online and do anything.

And then it's the phone calls. She's calling the house looking for Cody. And there is something hugely awkward about the conversation you have with your housemates barely ex about where he is when he's fucking some other girl that you're not sure if the ex knows about or not. And of course, she doesn't just call once. If we answer, she'll give it an hour and call back. If we don't, she'll just keep calling. Eventually, Josh took the phone off the hook. And I had to be restrained from tearing Cody apart limb for limb when he did decide he'd come home.

Sympathy for the crazy turned into fuck the crazy eventually though. Tiresome as it might have been, I felt for the girl, and I don't think Cody had done a really thorough job of ending things. During one of our facebook conversations, I gave her some advice about giving him space, explained how Adam had really needed his space and not giving it to him just made things worse, and boys deal with breaks ups differently and bla bla freaking bla. At the end of the conversation, she expressly asks me not to tell Cody we've been talking (UM, WHAT?).

A day or two later, I come back from doing something or other with Adam, and Josh asks me how things between the two of us have been. Uh, fine, why? Josh thought as much, just double checking. Then informed me that Jill had told Cody quote He should be really worried about me because Adam and I had a friendship break up unquote. Really, I'm not sure what the point was, or what was possibly being achieved. But as Adam and I are just fine friends, and that was distinctly not at all what I told her, and after she instructed me not to repeat things to Cody, did so herself. Well, seems like cause enough to ignore the constant facebook messaging to me.

I think I'm just going to immerse myself in boys for awhile. If I ever speak to Cody again, he might even be invited.

Why Lucy and co are Cahrayzee.

Part Two of the Crazy Chronicles.

So I vaguely alluded to there being more to the craziness of our sister house. The first hint of bitchiness was Lucy and Josie vowing a hatred to Kate because she went to a party they weren't invited to. Cue awkward nodding all through hearing this story. About a week after this, we had the four of them over to dinner. Lucy and Kate rode, Josie walked from uni and Elliot walked from town. So, Lucy Kate and Josie end up at our house first, Cody and Josh are in town picking some things up. And all of a sudden I'm being bombarded with hate mail about Elliot. Wow. So I'm all, oh, I thought you guys got along. ...awkwardly chops garlic... Apparently not. Reasons for hatred towards Elliot include:
A. He spends too much time in the lounge room.
B. He always watches the news and talks about it
C. He's just, so, ARGH.
Yup, solid arguments there. Almost as solid as last weeks Kate hatred. All the while I'm trying to politely not get involved in the conversation and hoping the boys get home and manage to change the subject before Elliot arrives.

At this point Josh and I are both fairly well in agreeance to a distaste for the house, or mainly, Lucy. She seems to instigate most of the issues and manages to convince everyone at the same time that she is their best friend. Kate is her tagalong. Josie, I can't quite pinpoint, she's the most fun, but I think she is sometimes just mean for pure enjoyment. Elliot, completely clueless to all the girl drama going on around him.

The crazy goes on too. Elliot found out off mutual friends that they didn't intend him to live with them for much longer. Lucy claims it isn't true. Elliot and I kissed one night at the Club we go to. Josie spends the rest of the night trying to get me to take a band member home. An awkward tagalong attatches himself to our group one night. Lucy has a tantrum and claims he offended her, demanding he leave. I step in and say she's crossing a line, go and talk to the awkward tagalong. Kate yells at me and her and Lucy run off.

So, with absolute perfect timing of Josh and I swearing to have nothing more to do with them.. Cody and Lucy hook up. F U C K I N G W O N D E R F U L. Cody and Jill break up. Cody and Lucy spend every breathing moment together. And all the crazy continues.

This thursday just gone Lucy held a girls night. Conveniently, I heard about it from Elliot first, who wanted to know what our house was doing as he couldnt very well participate in the girls night. Bitchy crazy girls or not, I'm not even the biggest fan of girls nights. I mean, really, what's with them? I played innocent, knowing full well Lucy intended me along to the girls night, and claimed that we would all drink together. When I did get the text, I sent back a polite thanks, but I told the boys we'd drink together tonight. And I do believe I have been henceforth blacklisted. Hilariously, I wasn't the only girl who got invited to girls night and skipped to drink with the boys.
Perhaps it'll click some day.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Better the crazy bitch that lives 3 hours away than the crazy bitch that doesn't

Part One of the Crazy Chronicles.

I have always gotten along better with boys. Girls have this ridiculous ability to, for lack of a better expression, be a pack of bitches. And it's always so so petty.

Luckily, after high school, most girls move on from this. But, three years out of school now (I know, what?) I am discovering that this isn't entirely the case. The scary thing about girls who are bitches three years out of high school, is that they're really fucking good at it. And a little bit sociopathic. My logic is that in high school, most girls are just following the bitching trend, or releasing some pent up hormones. The ones that stick at it, they really enjoy it. Creeps.

So for this story to make any degree of sense, I'm going to have to outline some of the main players in my life to date. I currently live in a house with Cody and Josh, whom I love to bits. Cody had been in a longterm longdistance relationship with a girl for 18 months- since before he went away to uni. Our house has been "dating" another house. I'm worried about some of these names showing up on websearches (because I'm crazy like that) so I'm going to use psuedonyms for the more obscure names. The other house consists of Lucy, Josie, Kate and Elliot. I think we know them because Josh does some classes with some of the girls. I don't really know. I just know that somehow they all of a sudden exist in our lives in a big way. They just kind of appeared. Maybe they're aliens.

Anyway, they invite us to their parties, we invite them to ours. We have them over for dinner and vice versa. Lucy and Josh hooked up a few times and it really seemed like they were going to happen. Except that Lucy was kind of insane about it. She'd kiss him, then ignore him, then kiss him. She'd try to tell him what to do and when he didn't she'd start talking about boys she was in love with. It was really just a little weird. So thus ended that, and Lucy was unimpressed when Josh wouldn't play along anymore.

Enter Cody. So they have a bit in common. By which I mean they both like their drugs frequent and illicit. Don't get me wrong, the rest of our little gang isn't opposed to the occasional latenight spongebob with a joint session. They're just a little more intense about it. And so Lucy is all upset about Josh, and wanting to get high, and wanting Cody to stay over, and sleeping in Codys bed, and texting Cody all the time.

Josh and I are less than impressed at this turn of events, as Cody is seemingly oblivious to Lucys obvious efforts to break up him and ...erm, she's probably crazy enough to be able to find this if I make it too easy, let's call her Jill. Jill is not entirely stable. Upon moving in with Cody, Josh and myself quickly established this. She stayed here for a few weeks over the holidays. Kept a track of all our money and who owed who what, and called us out on it. This is, between the three of us housemates, no money involving her. Quite frankly, if I live with someone, and they owe me five bucks. I do not care. Because I'm probably watching their TV, or they're going to come home with MacDonalds and I'm going to steal half of it. And then when she was back in their hometown. It was the phonecalls. Freaking non stop. She's the only person I've ever encountered who will ring a homephone till it rings out and then ring it again straight away. Rinse, Lather, Repeat. Until something good comes on tv or something. And then there was the time she asked Josh over facebook what he was doing "me and Cody are just having a boys afternoon actually, it's really good having some beers and catching up, I only jumped on here to look something up. I'll talk to you later" and queue Jill ringing Cody and proceeding to talk to him about all the things upsetting her for over and hour. CAHRAYZEE.

Josh and I have a couple of chats with Cody along the 'anything going on with you and Lucy, you seem to be spending a concerning amount of time together, and you know, sleeping in the same bed' line. Of couse to no avail, they're just friends! It's fine! He loves Jill! Friends can spoon! And well, at this point Lucy has moved into the 'reason I don't like girls' category. It's not only the whole manipulating both my housemates thing, it's a lot of little behaviours that would take an essay to explain. I'm sure you trust my judgement. And BITCH IS TRYING TO BREAK MY HOUSEMATE AND HIS GIRLFRIEND UP OK.

So yes, Jill has a serious case of the crazies. But Josh and I are both pretty firmly feeling 'better the devil you know than the devil you don't' or, more to the point, 'better the crazy bitch that lives 3 hours away than the crazy bitch that doesn't.'

Sigh, I have things to do and drinks to drink, the saga will continue soon.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Appletinis and Mean Girls

I always do that thing where I say I'll talk about something and in turn don't actually feel like talking about it. But the mum scotch story is actually a bit of a funny one, so I'll bear with it.

My mother went to Malaysia recently, to visit my cousin and have a bit of a holiday. My sister is 17 now so she was home alone (much to my Mothers distress, who wanted her to go and stay with Dad). So I decided to go home for a weekend. Partly to spend some time with Bell, and partly to get away from ex-boyfriend-land for a bit.

Saturday night, my home crew got together, and we had appletinis and watched Mean Girls. It was one of those amazing nights where we talked and drunk all night. And in true teenager style, we ran out of vodka and raided the parentals closet. Goodness, can you believe it? Never in my underage years. Never in my teenage years. Never did I do the typical have a party because the parents are away and break into the grog cupboard.

Of course it didn't go down exactly like that. There were 5 of us including my self and Bell, and we were watching a chick flick. When our alcohol ran out, we reasoned that we could borrow some Scotch and return it when the bottle shops were open in the morning. Carefully noting the exact letter on the label it was full to. And naturally I forgot.

So back at uni and four hours away, five days later, mum texts to say she's landed and driving home. And then the crashing recollection. Of course, there is nothing to be done. My home crew are also no longer at home. My sister is still underage AND I managed to forget to leave my spare licence for her (if we can't work at the same place without everyone calling us the wrong name, we may as well use it to our advantage). So now I'm waiting for the phone call where she gets faux angry at me, I remind her how often she's gone into my room searching for the Scotch she knows I have in there and buy a bottle on my way home next for us to drink on the verandah.

Everybody wins really.

Scotch and feeling sorry for myself

Well, it seems like it's time again for my yearly blog update. So Adam and I broke up, which is actually really irrelevent to this blog seeing as I've written one post since we started going out and it was about STI's. Hmm. Unfortunately, I'm used to being the one that ends the relationship. And I was always all "ohh it's so haaarrd. Its so emooootionaaal. I think its harder on the one that has to eeend it". Yeah, wrong. So wrong.

In fairness, it was kinda mutual in the end. But that had a lot to do with me realising I wasn't going to be happy knowing that he wasn't completely happy. And my dignity stepped in when it turned to drunken-break-ups-sober-make-ups territory. Of course, that dignity was glaringly M.I.A for the countless nights that we ended up in the break-up sex territory. And that one that we spent together, just cuddling. Well goodness, that one is just embarrassing.

I think the point I was making was something about the horrible aching loss that I'm not accustomed to that leads to the awful temptation to end up at his door at 2 am suggesting we try and work things out -and then expecting to climb into bed and live happily ever after. But who wants to talk about that? Me, after half a bottle of Scotch. But you don't have half a bottle of Scotch now do you?

Don't get me wrong I haven't turned into a complete Damsel. I was my completely usual independant, flirting, problem-causing-and-then-refusing-to-deal-with self throughout the relationship. But then in some horrible irony when things did end, and it was my fault because of all the things I'd done that I shouldn't have, well then I wanted to take it all back, and I lost everything, and it wasn't worth it and -well you'd just think I was a man or something wouldn't you? But I don't want to talk about all the things I've done. Atleast not until after half a bottle of Scotch. But you don't have half a bottle of Scotch now do you?

Speaking of people that don't have half a bottle of Scotch- my mother. But that's a story for tomorrow. Who knows, I might actually start writing this thing again.