July, 2007

Life — 9 Comments
23
Jul 07

My Flatmates Rule!

Flatting is difficult. Let’s be honest – most people are absolutely awful to live with, and if your flatmates are your friends beforehand they probably won’t be afterwards. If they are strangers, they will probably turn out to be axe-murderers, or at the very least leave pubic hair everywhere. It’s hard to find people to live with who will be your friends during and afterwards, and who live in the same way that you do so you don’t get pissy with each other over things like leaving the toilet seat up or leaving breadcrumbs on the bench or other small things that will make you so angry you burst a blood vessel on your temple.

Over the past year I have been back in the flatting situation I have lived with some interesting characters.

The Drunk Scot
Pros: good cook
Cons: cooked for me once, drunk wine in his room every night to dull the pain of his wife being in Wales, extraordinarily boring to the point that I couldn’t listen to Scottish accents anymore

The Druggie
Pros: did the garden once, bought wood for the fire
Cons: had a stinky room, ripped me off my bond, was a druggie

The Nice Scot
Pros: super nice, hilarious boyfriend
Cons: not anal about cleaning like me, liked sausages

The English Gent
Pros: nice, great cook, had a piano
Cons: wished was my chef, too coupley with his girlfriend, sofas were really uncomfortable, gave his friends the house key

The Horder
Pros: unsure
Cons: stingy, filled the flat with her crap, strange, walked in on her looking at her poo once

So after a year of hating my flat and living with people I either liked and didn’t want to live with, or didn’t like and didn’t want to live with, I am now completely and utterly blessed to be living with the two best flatmates this side of Natalie Gregory (where are you Nat, I miss you!): Kate and Kelly.

We cook meals together. We watch television together. We seem to understand when the others want to have a conversation and when they can’t be bothered. We are setting up an account for all of our groceries and will spend the leftover money on going out together. We don’t have a roster yet the house is still tidy. We all respect each other’s peace and quiet. The only thing now is that Kate and I need to convince Kelly to come to drum and bass gigs with us. We think she is scared.

Kate and Kelly – you guys are awesome! I love you! I just hope you realise that if I move to Auckland you are coming with me. YOU HAVE NO CHOICE.

Life — 9 Comments
15
Jul 07

Hopelessly in Love

I’m not one to blog about what I deem my personal life and specifically not much, if anything, about who I date. But I am so in love that I want to scream it from the top of a very high mountain that is close to civilisation in order to reach maximum amount of ears. It seems that it doesn’t even matter who I tell; my boss, his flatmates, my flatmates, the girl who waxes my pubic hair, strangers on the internet, it just needs to come out of my mouth. I don’t have a mountain, but I have a blog.

His name is Duncan. He is 12.8% younger than me, 13.2% taller than me, and 53.8% heavier than me.

Things that are great about Duncan:

  • He graduated top of his year with a double-degree and I don’t feel dumb in comparison. I put this down to him being the first guy I have dated that didn’t have skills better than mine in the things I think I’m awesome at and vice versa. I don’t feel like I’m in competition for anything except things like ability to tie shoelaces, colouring in the lines, locating animal faces in clouds, and being the best girlfriend he’s ever had.
  • He is the sexiest person I have ever met. He has a yummy little bumchin and the most handsome square jaw and the most kissable lips. I find it quite hard to not obsessively stare at this area of his face when he is talking. And just to make me a little more crazy, the rest of him is equally as attractive and I feel like a constant perve; checking out his ass when he’s walking in front of me, watching him concentrate when he’s driving, and trying to take a mental photograph of him when he’s asleep because I want to be able to remember even the smallest little things about him when he’s not around.
  • He makes me feel like a teenager. Sometimes when I kiss him it feels like that first time I kissed anyone; all nervous and unsure minus the wanting to vomit afterwards. I still get a little nervous when I know I’m going to see him and I get butterflies when he tells me nice things, even if he’s told me those nice things 100 times already. I also find myself with the urge to write “AM 4 DB” in club bathroom stalls.
  • He smells great. Like, really, really great. In fact, he is the best smelling person I have ever met. He smells so good I could bury my nose in his sweaty armpit and find his smell delicious. When we walk down the street, I sometimes lean my head on his arm in a loving way, which is actually me having a sneaky sniff.
  • He makes me mix tapes. Okay, not really mix tapes. He is a drum and bass DJ and makes mixes that just happen to be full of nothing but songs I love, which I will then listen to repeat on my iPod like the 13-year-old that I am.
  • I can dance in front of him and not feel stupid. For as long as I can remember I have had a phobia of dancing in front of people and watching guys I find attractive dancing. I can pinpoint it to two things: a) being told when I was 20 that I danced like a goth which made me want to listen to Bauhaus and kill myself, and b) dating a spontaneous breakdancer who would bust a move at inappropriate moments. However, for some reason, I am not only able to dance in front of Duncan, but also am able to watch him dance while maintaining a swoon for him. If I had a therapist, she would tell me that this is progress.
  • He makes me laugh so hard my stomach hurts. There are things he’s said that made me laugh so hard that all I need to do is think about the situation again and I’ll be giggling all over again. “Is this your mushroom?” I’m not going to try and put that into context, because when I relayed what I thought was a hilarious conversation to my mum she didn’t laugh.
  • He is my best friend and I want to have sex with him. And what’s better than that?
Boring Site Stuff — 4 Comments
4
Jul 07

Writer’s Block

I feel like I’ve had a mental blockage for over a year now. I will sometimes sit in front of my computer, looking at the main page of my site and thinking, “What goes here?” I’ll lean back, thumb and forefinger on my chin, look up to the ceiling and ponder, “What could I even write about?” Then oftentimes, I will click through to my old archives, typically during the living-alone-and-slowly-going-mad-in-Houston era where I believe my funny was at its peak, have a wee chuckle over how I used to amuse myself considerably, which inevitably will always lead to the same place – crying into my pillow about losing my textual creativity.

I guess it isn’t altogether a bad thing though. My visual creativity (i.e., my photography) has increased significantly over the past couple of years. I have created a graph to demonstrate this from 2000 to now:

After mapping my interest levels and producing this graph I can see how my interest levels have panned out over time: 2000 – writing motivation levels at their highest due to the Internet Rockstar; 2003 – photography interest growing due to European travels, lots of looking at old things and lack of wireless internet beginning withdrawals from the internet; 2005 – quarter-life crisis hits and proceeds for some many, many, many months, motivation levels for all decline; 2007 – toyboy acquired to offset quarter-life crisis, motivation levels for favourite hobby increase exponentially.

I’m getting a lot more use out of my D70 these days as I have discovered that combining two or three favourite hobbies can create a “Super Hobby”. My Super Hobby is photographer+drum and bass+getting wasted. What could be better, well aside from getting my ass into gear and getting these photos published in music magazines or working on my stupid portfolio which is not really stupid but would be completely awesome but I have no time or motivation to do it myself and instead want my friend Matt to do this for me, not even for free, but he doesn’t have time either.

I also realised I have been writing for the internet for a decade. A DECADE. That is a very long time. After explaining to a friend why I didn’t update my site that much anymore last week, I was asked if I had retired from the internet and I realised I have semi-retired from the land o’ blog. That is, at least until my writer’s block has been cleared, which everyone knows only happens when you become addicted to heroin. I can’t wait!