Australia Day makes me thankful

Thankful that I sometimes can't handle leaving the house. If ever there was an appropriate day for it, it's today.

I've dropped into a big migrainey spiral and I'm living off codeine lattes and leftover steamed vegetables, dreaming of having my own place where I can have domain of the cooking, cleaning and arranging of furniture.

this post is brought to you by the letter b and the number 812.

So...hey maybe I didn't get the internet back for a while.
But I'm back now and you can forgive me..and love me, and maybe even let me back inside your hearts because this doormat is itchy and I think there was a guy following me...Baby? Seriously, it's cold out here so just open the door a little so I know where you are...

FINE, I DON'T NEED YOU OR YOUR SHITTY SIX-BIT FUCKAROUND OF A READERSHIP, I CAN MAKE IT ON MY OWN I'LL BE JUST FINE.

I'm only kidding baby, I can change...

Anyway. I'm hoping I can use this blog to get me through the next year/time I'll have alone with the internet because my boyfriend works in a bar and doesn't get home until 4am at the earliest.

Here is my life as it develops:

I live in a flat with my boyfriend, a woman and her 13 year old son.

I am undergoing my first year in training as a hairdresser, primarily because I'm so scared of having an existential crisis that I refuse to try going to university and becoming a lawyer or a forensic scientist or a composer...that and the fact that it's highly doubtful that even if I did succeed in my studies nobody wants to hire a mentally dysrhythmic social cripple.

Away from home I have a very supportive family consisting of my mother, father, younger brother, an uncoordinated orange cat and the slightly older, kidney diseased bipolar cat.

I've found a boy who I'm pretty sure I want to marry and, failing that, am in agreement that in the next few weeks a 'deposit' will be made so that should he ever leave me, or not fulfill his 0-year life expectancy, I can still harbor his spawn. That kind of love.

In march, my best friend will be getting married to a man nine years older than her. We do not get along and they both happen to hate my boyfriend, so much so that he wasn't invited.

My other two best friends have recently begun dating.

Now that I feel this is up to speed I can start writing regularly without CONSTANTLY HAVING TO EXPLAIN MYSELF. Which is a lie, and I will do anyway because thats exactly what I did with my diaries when I could keep them and I'm pretty sure just as many people read this as have read my diary.

So right now I'm sitting in our room, furnished courtesy of my nana's taste in the sixties, on cadbury's-purple bedsheets, playing around on tumblr and listening to my next-door neighbors fight.

This fighting has been going on for about a week. I know this, not because I'm an eavesdropper (their argument isn't THAT interesting) but because their house is about a meter away from my room.

My only experience with my next door neighbors has been when the little boy I lived with was throwing watermelon into their pool (this isn't unusual behavior from him, I don't think he has 'usual behavior') and the woman who I can now hear using a very smarmy tone towards her son came up and talked to him AND ME about the 'incident', being kind enough to bring a fruit sample from her pool. Seriously.

This woman used exactly the same tone with me as she did with the boy, and with my boyfriend too. My boyfriend pretended to go to the bathroom and hid in there until he could control his chuckles. I, however sat there and listened to this woman who actually believed that I was throwing watermelon into her pool. I've done some pretty questionable things in my time but if you want to come into my house which I pay for, maintain and live peacefully by not having a screaming match and bothering the neighbors every damn night, and treat me like a child, don't expect me not to turn the hose on.

Anyway, this family seem to have some kind of invalid member, or pet that they always fight about, but it's never before 8pm and then they SCREAM, intermittently stopping to, I don't know, take enough breath to fuel another high-decibel 20 minute rant. This usually goes on until about 11pm.

Nobody is home right now and I've sustained a mild foot-wound just now, running to the bathroom. I might be clumsy but this house is a fucking death trap due to the fact that the woman we live with is CONSTANTLY moving things around or throwing them away. I was hurdling towards the lavvy at lighting pace when my foot found the metal bottom of the couch, and I landed with my knee in my ribcage, peeing myself a bit.

Such is an evening alone in my exciting life. Read this and encourage me to write more, I'll feel like less of a massive, mentally incompetent failure.

adult life.

I may or may not be back, writing again. This time it'll be less whingy-exam-time-teenager and more like the time I worked for a website but got fired because my boyfriend at the time was a giant boring chasm of creativity, or because I got too distracted watching people auto-tune the news on YouTube. One of those.

I'm kinda just going to throw this blog at the wall and see if it sticks.

To prove that I'm an adult now, and therefore capable of exploring subject matter outside high school and artistic pictures of nipples I shall allow you to be privy to the deep, adult conversations I have with my boyfriend who, as I write this is asleep in a book with his arms crossed.

Before I write this, you should understand that he has a spooky, kid-from-the-shining-like insight into my mind, he knows when I'm too afraid to poop in other peoples houses, he knows when I'm going to eat all the caramel biscuits, and he has the uncanny ability to pick out exactly what I'm laughing at.

It begins here;

Me: *twitching* baaaaaaaayyyyyybeeeeeee, I need to peeeee!

Boyfriend: So? Go pee.

Me: I can't. Fred is here and I don't want to put pants on. (Fred is our room mate)

...

...

Can I pee in the bed?

Boyfriend: No. *trying to find a trace of humor in my expression* Noooooo. NO.

Me: I'll even go on my side. (because relationships are all about compromise, amirite?)

Here he ignored me for a while and when I eventually realized that I couldn't muster up the cruelty to nag him to carry me I turned back to my blogs.

After about five minutes of reading I was doing that silent sort of giggle that isn't supposed to disrupt anyone but shakes the whole bed and ends up in making sputtering snicker noises akin to a pig having rough sex with a horse.

Boyfriend: *barely glancing at the page* Are you laughing because somebody mentioned diarrhea?

There is really no limit to your entertainment about that, is there?

Me: *giggling* Its like the bacon of my humor (I often wonder if death is my only limit when it comes to the consumption of bacon). I could start a blog though...Would you read it?

Boyfriend: (trying to get back to his book) Maybe. I don't know. *sigh*

Me: I could call it "Why diarrhea is the bacon of my humor".

(after a few minutes of my obligingly staring at him in hopes of encouragement, and him patiently reading his book and clearly wishing I would just let it go my ADHD monster* got the better of me)

*trying to bring forth some sort of response*

We wouldn't be having this conversation if you let me pee in the bed!

After five solid minutes of twitching, sighing, tweeting and wriggling my feet I finally succumbed to nature, and the overall wish that when I grow old I will not be completely incontinent and I gracefully made my way to the loo. Because putting your pants on backwards and sniping 'FINE. Have it your way.' is graceful, in my world.

*I'm not being facetious, I really do have a behavioral disorder.

look at them shine

look at them shine

Answer here

'me and silas broke up like four months ago' poor you, he is amazing in more than one way which i am sure you are aware. especially the bedroom.

Also, regarding silas... The size fits the stature.

#%&*$!

'me and silas broke up like four months ago' poor you, he is amazing in more than one way which i am sure you are aware. especially the bedroom.

So?
I'm actually happy now, our relationship went stale, so not poor me.
Someone else can actually appreciate him, but I don't see how this is relevant to me anymore, do you have my best interests in mind?
I'm not really sure what kind of point you're trying to make or what reaction your trying to elicit seeing as you didn't ask a question but whatever you mention doesn't make him right for me, does it?

#%&*$!

Im going to trap you in a room with a moose. Take that!

I like moose. Thats the plural of moose.
Follow my formspring and learn about correct use of plural!

#%&*$!