Must remember to breathe. Must remember to breathe. Rainbows and fairies and squirrels, oh my! Granadilla lollies. Pony rides. Smarties. Breathe in... freshly cut grass. Breathe out... freshly lit grass. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts.
Dear Sweet Housemate has tired of The Stripper. The Stripper is, after all, an anatomically artificial, narcotic inhaling psychopath. Who has apparently been going through Dear Sweet Housemate's phone whilst he slumbers and has happened upon some rather unsavoury texts pertaining to his new found thoughts on the living situation. Whilst my phone and laptop accompanied me to work for the last two weeks, I have however noticed some things lying around my room which i swear were tucked away, only to appear mysteriously on my carpet. Granted, i noticed these things when i blindly stumbled through the door in a green haze of Jagermeister post-birthday celebration-ness, so I can't profess accuracy here. But still.
She has been told in no uncertain terms to, and i'll put this politely, F*CK THE HELL OFF. Tomorrow. Did i mention that she's a narcotic inhaling psychopath who reads strangers' text messages whilst they're in the throes of some serious theta waves? Did i also mention that she didn't take the news particularly well? Or that her ex boyfriend (the reason the slapper's here in the first place) said "ja, i suppose she can get a little vindictive. changing the locks might not be such a bad idea really". Sweet weeping Mary. I think i'm going to f*cking throw up.
09 July 2007
Strip Search.
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21 comments:
Oh man, I hate it when people snoop and don't put stuff back where they found it. That's just rude.
Wahahaha - how the hell do you wind up in these situations? Beware revenge of the stripper!
the hard part, of course, will be to not be smug around your flatmate, and drop acid remarks about where thinking with his little head got him.
Didn't you mention something about an army mate with a tank?
kyk: you think that's rude, you should see her knickers.
chews: dude. you're not helping.
betenoir: believe me, i haven't held back. he feels delightfully sheepish.
mrs b: she's so fake i'm concerned the heat sensors won't pick her up.
Can't you stick a knitting needle in her chest and deflate her barbie boobs?
Ooops...trigger finger happy. What I meant to say then was: Or hold all her "accessories" ransom?
Look on the bright side GW. You know have some riveting characters to write about (even better than stories about farm porn and wrinkly old men). Strippers + Psychopaths + Narcotics + Jagermeisters = Good story.
Have some more Jager tonight, give the psycho more narcotics and suggest a mud wrestle to sort things out.
I'm with Mark on the mud wrestling bit.
dolc: listen doll, i ain't holdin' her "accessories" in any way shape or form.
mark, mart, ekke: ok fine, but can you afford the tickets? i ain't cheap boys.
ps, ekke: you would.
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