Archive for October, 2008

11 Shit Things That Make Share-House Living Suck – #8

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 17, 2008 by Buck Frain

#8. Power, Politics & Paranoia

Someone much wiser and more educated than me once said Everything is political, they were bloody well right too! Even the most politically apathetic, socially recalcitrant house-mate will become a political animal once placed in the share-house arena, in fact they’ll probably be the absolute worst, grubbing around for every little piece of leverage they can get.

 

There are many different types of political animal to be found in share-houses. I’m sure you’ve met a great many of them. The annoying shit-stirrers, painful meeting-obsessed peace-makers, militant law-makers, to name but a few. Then there are the innumerable games they play and the territories they try to annex to mark out their power base in the house so they can feel at home. Ownership of the remote control, occupation of the couch, rights over the stereo, responsibility for putting out bins. Pigs, bitches and borrowers are political positions and indicative of the ever fluctuating power dynamic of the share-house.

 

Whether you like it or not you’ll play the game. It’s impossible to avoid unless you want to be the bitch. Guys play different to girls, singles play different to couples but everyone plays.

 

Power, or Hand is what they all want. It makes life easier. The great thing about having Hand is that you rarely have to use it. A look is enough. A raised eyebrow or a carefully understated turn of phrase has the other player tying themselves in knots to avoid a conflict they can’t win. But Hand is a fickle mistress. She has to be maintained and can be very easily lost. One night where you get so drunk you wake up in the hallway without pants can end your political reign in a house. Or not – just like in real politics, if you can spin the facts in your own favour you may walk away with more respect than you had to start with.

 

In an enlightened household where mutual respect is the going currency the need for this struggle for Hand is minimal and everyone can relax, unfortunately, such households are generally regarded as fictional. The share-house is not like a home, it’s more like a battlefield. It’s all about survival and your enemies are everywhere, smiling like dirty bastards and then stealthily sticking passive-aggressive notes to the fridge as soon as no-one’s looking.

 

I don’t like aggression, especially at home, it’s unnecessary and crude. Passive-aggression, though, really gives me the right royal cunt. There is nothing more fucked in the entire universe than the smug, cowardly shitfulness that passive-aggressive people ooze out onto the rest of humanity. Just be up-front and honest! I don’t mind people getting the massive screaming shits with me but I cunting well hate passive-aggression with a vengeance. If I was ever to murder someone it would probably be because of some smarmy passive-aggressive piece of skullfuckery. Unfortunately, whilst murdering people is relatively easy, getting away with it is not and the authorities seem to take a pretty dim view of it even when there’s compelling evidence that society is better off as a result.

 

So what’s to do? I could fight back, honest aggression style, I could fight back like a dog-felching-passive-aggressive wank-stain, but fighting leads to a win-lose situation that may not be stacked in my favour. What if I’m not tough enough to win on aggression? What if I’m not enough of a douche-bag to win the passive-aggressive-I-wish-I-was-Oscar-Wilde-cunty-shit-eater game? Guess I’d just have to take the loss, huh? You’d think that, wouldn’t you? You’d probably be able to go back through all those previous house-mate battles and count up all the victories where you had Hand, wouldn’t you? Yeah, that prick just had to fuckin’ wear it, ha ha! And maybe you’d be right. Maybe your adversary walked away with his tail between his legs and took the loss like an honourable man. Hmm…honour…there’s the rub. If honour were present we wouldn’t really have this problem in the first place. Never underestimate your opponent, and never, ever fuck with a coward!

 

Remember your toothbrush. Remember where it is. How vulnerable and alone it is when you’re not around. Remember all the dirty things in its immediate vicinity. Have you ever brushed your teeth and thought your toothbrush tasted funny but shuffled the thought away with a rationalisation like: It’s winter…it’s damp…the air doesn’t circulate in here. What lies have you told yourself so you didn’t have to acknowledge that your toothbrush may have visited the toilet? That your toothbrush may have been pissed on? That it may have been up the cat’s bum? Because it may have. It’s conceiveable – when did you last see the cat? But, no, how pissed off would someone have to be to do that? Maybe a lot…hmmm, maybe not so much – how widely hated is the cat? There are many areas where you are vulnerable to a terrorist attack by the people you live with. Yes, a terrorist attack. Terror is the only response available to the oppressed so think about it. If someone dunked their nob into your cottage cheese and stirred it around a bit, then put the cottage cheese back in the fridge – would you know? In a world without honour, how much Hand do you really have?

11 Shit Things That Make Share-House Living Suck – #7

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 14, 2008 by Buck Frain

#7 Other People’s Genitals

 

I don’t have issues with nudity per se. I think streakers at sporting events are funny and I’m cool with the genitals of anyone I’m intimate with. However, other people are another matter altogether. I am OK with other people having genitals just so long as they’re not flapping around at eye level when I’m sitting in the kitchen trying to eat my breakfast.

 

What the weeping-nob-scab is wrong with people? So, you picked up my house-mate last night and brought her back to a house you’ve never been to before inhabited by people you’ve never met and in the morning you wander out through the kitchen in search of the loo…naked. Nice one! And then you look at me like I’m the one with the problem and ask:

 

What are you lookin’ at?

 

I don’t know, fuckhead, is it a bonsai penis? I was worried you were going to try to fuck my breakfast with it!

 

Seriously, what are you doing? Do you have super-complex underpants that take 3 hours and a Ph.D to put on? Use a fucking towel, arse-face!!! In an ideal world one might hope that girls would have more modesty, however, I haven’t really seen any evidence of that.

 

What are you doing here?

 

I live here. I’m eating my breakfast. The toilet’s that way…um…you’re dripping on the fucking floor.

 

One morning I walked out to see a naked guy sitting with his naked arse on one of our chairs at the kitchen table eating our fucking cereal. What the SHIT??? I don’t mind too much about the cereal but how can I use a kitchen chair that’s had some fucker’s sweaty nut-sack and unwashed ring resting on it? Do I disinfect it or just throw the fucking thing away?

 

Inhibitions – they’re great! We have them for a reason. We have them because we aren’t solitary animals, we live in societies and these have only maintained a semblance of order and civility because people covered their genitals up and stopped scent-marking everything in sight. I’m stoked that you’re comfortable with your hairy, hail-damaged body, but do me a favour: COVER IT UP!!! No, really, take this guest burkha! Not because I have issues with my own body, not because I won’t be able to control my primal urges but because I can’t eat and vomit at the same time and I can’t spend my whole life buying new dining furniture.

11 Shit Things That Make Share-Living Suck – #6

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 8, 2008 by Buck Frain

#6. Burning The Midnight Toast.

 

This particular share-house phenomenon took its name from a quite inoffensive event. After a suitably boozy night when several members of the house had returned late from their respective nights out, we arose to find two ice-cold pieces of blackened toast sticking out of the top of the toaster. Beside the toaster sat the butter and there was an unused butter knife on the counter over an open cutlery drawer. The evidence all pointed to someone being so heavily shit-pantsed that they’d decided to make toast but either forgot the cause part-way through, or weren’t up to completing the task and just went off to bed. As each member of the house surfaced, they were asked: 

Hey, who was burning the midnight toast last night?

 

It was loveably roguish behaviour and burning the midnight toast made its way into the household’s vernacular as a euphemism for any strange domestic rearrangements that may have taken place overnight, possibly under the influence of intoxicants.

 

Unfortunately, the term began to lose its lustre as it became used as an excuse for all sorts of unpleasant indiscretions. The following are all 100% genuine questions we had to, and did, ask house-mates over the course of several months:

 

Excuse me, do you know who…

 

     …left an uncooked cake in the oven?

 

     …owns the dildo on the couch?

 

     …kicked over the stereo?

 

     …ordered a prostitute?

 

     …screamed abuse at the neighbours last night?

 

     …left a used condom on the kitchen floor?

 

     …tried to poke vomit down the plug-hole in the bathtub?

 

     …had a piss in the fridge?

 

It’s bad, bad, bad, wrong, wrong, WRONG!!! Everyone has their moments and most people burn the midnight toast at some point but there are limits, people, FUCKING LIMITS!!! Get help, get counselling, go to rehab, leave me the stomped-ballbag alone because I don’t want to fucking well live with you filthy fucking animals ANY-CUNTING-MORE!!!

11 Shit Things That Make Share-House Living Suck – #5

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 6, 2008 by Buck Frain

#5. Bermuda Triangle Shelf, Permaculture Fridge.

 

This is where my food lives…temporarily. Permaculture Fridge is a living entity. It has a dense fertile undergrowth starting in the crisper – has anything ever gotten crisper by being put in this device? It seems like an invention designed to do the opposite, to reduce vegetable matter to a sweaty sludge in as little time as possible. This undergrowth lends the whole fridge a rainforesty dankness and creeps green tendrils up into the body of the fridge. The shelves bear the congealed dribbles of meals long gone. There are numerous sauces, cling-film-covered meals that weren’t any good when fresh and that have long since faded into the dusty recesses of the addled memories of their creators. These are a definite danger, they all potentially contain massive fungal blooms as well as bacterial specimens that would be more-rightly at home in a biological weapons laboratory.

 

These are objects of warning, talismans to protect any genuine food from evil spirits or opportunistic house-mates – borrowers – there are also distractions like a naked, dried piece of cheese or a dessicated half-onion. The Borrowers are a special breed of carrion-feeding share-house inhabitants. They never buy their own food, they borrow other people’s, their name aquired from their most popular excuse on the rare occasions they actually get caught pilfering house-mates’ food. Hey, I was just borrowing it, I didn’t think you’d mind.  Always delivered in a completely dead-pan manner with a vaguely aggrieved tone that aims to suggest that their captor is being unbelievably petty and materialistic. If necessary, they’ll follow up with a Relax, man, it’s just a piece of chicken, I’ll buy you another one, jeez! Yeah, sure they will, don’t be fooled it’ll never happen.

 

The great paradox of Permaculture Fridge is that for something that looks as though it’s been abandoned for centuries and is waiting to be discovered by archaeologists, it requires constant monitoring by the borrowers. This is necessary for their own survival, for although they are a hardy species, if they let their monitoring lapse they may well eat an expired talisman by mistake and poison themselves. If only the rest of us could be that lucky but the crafty fuckers are on their game. You can’t leave anything in there without it, or at least a part of it, disappearing – especially if it’s left on my shelf, Bermuda Triangle Shelf.

 

The complete disappearance is most common on Bermuda Tringle Shelf, one minute it’s there, next time you open the fridge voomp! it’s gone – never to be seen again unless you check the bin or the recycling. Beer is always one of the first things to be sucked away into the void. The partial disappearance is the more insidious as it not only reduces one’s food supply but also assumes a level of stupidity by the borrower responsible who doesn’t think I’ll notice my food disappearing bite-by-bite, or that I may attribute it to natural causes. Hmm…I suppose it is conceivable that there are a new breed of cold-resistant mice that live in Permaculture Fridge. I, however, being a cynical fucker, tend to think that it’s more likely some stinking fucking hippy stealing my food. I will fucking get you one day, Borrowers, ONE FUCKING DAY!!!

 

 

* For those who came in late: I no longer live in a share-house, this series is a retrospective. As I’ve mentioned previously,  I now live alone – like other people would put up with me, are you kidding? The reason I am sharing my loathing of the whole share-house situation is outlined in the first post of the series. I only mention this to save you the indignity of commenting on the post as if it refers to my current life which it doesn’t, or as if everything I mention were happening in one particularly cuntful house rather than being the biggest annoyances from a number of share-house experiences. Also, to Peter, if you’re still reading: get fucked!

11 Shit Things That Make Share-House Living Suck – #4

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 4, 2008 by Buck Frain

#4. Sleep Deprivation & Forced Live Audio Porn.

 

In retrospect, the polished floorboards in the entrance hall weren’t as great an idea as they looked. When every bedroom comes off the hallway they turned out to be a complete hedgehog-stuffed-rectum amplifying even the most discreet of entrances into major seismic events. Fuck you, aesthetics! It was a bad call – go for carpet next time!

 

That’s just life, the stuff that really sand-papers my nob, however, is the blatant lack of consideration shown by supposedly civilised adults to their co-habitants. I don’t mind GTA at 3am, if I didn’t have to be up in three hours it could be me sitting in the living room belting ‘round in a stolen Camaro running over innocent bystanders and shooting gangsters. What I mind is that it’s at a volume that has the bass rattling the window in my bedroom. What the shit is wrong with you? Are you deaf? Did you forget that you don’t live alone?

 

There are various permutations of this sort of selfishness, random 4am techno music, the bastard-o’clock* pissed domestic dispute.

You’re a fuckin’ cunt! You never loved me, you just haven’t got the balls to tell me to my face!!! Have ya? Nah, I didn’t think so!

 

Let go a mah fuckin’ hair ya mad bitch! Jesus, why d’you fuckin’ reckon I drink? Couldn’t put up wi’ your shit sober!

 

I’m not stupid enough to leave my room to find out who’s stuff they’re smashing, I’ll just make sure I remember to put on shoes before I go to the loo. Even worse than the domestics though, is the forced live audio porn show. Maybe I should blame architects for poor sound insulation but – fuck it – you know you live with other people. I’m all for people having fulfilling sex lives but when I feel like I’m on the fucking sideline and all I want to do is sleep, it’s fucked. The last thing I need is to hear my nineteen year old house-mate brutally training her new beau in the delicate art of cunnilingus.

No, there. No…no…no, get over here…here!!! *slap* OW! Don’t fuckin’ bite it! Lick it, dickhead! There. There. Yeah! NO!!! *slap* There…put your finger in! No! Like this…yeah? Yeah…that’s it…yeah…no, there…NO!!! *slap slap slap* Well?…get back down!

 

Poor bastard had the absolute piss slapped out of him. He didn’t last. I admire a girl who knows what she wants but not when I’m trying to sleep. She was scary, she woke me up one night and I thought I was next-door to The Exorcist.

Fuck me Jesus! Fuck me hard, Jesus! Ooh, harder, Jesus!

 

I’m serious – she was actually calling him Jesus, not just blaspheming-in-the-heat-of-passion. I saw Jesus the next morning – his name was Brian…he didn’t even have a beard!

 

I had a room for a while next to a guy who always got himself into trouble for trying to slip his female visitors a backdoor surprise. He got a lot of very colourful reactions including a nasty cut above his eye that needed five stitches. On the other side, he once ended up with a young Greek girl he couldn’t shake for about six months, she didn’t seem to like him at all as a person – not many people did – but he had certainly touched a nerve with her.

 

I suppose it’s all terribly comical when it’s not you, isn’t it? Yeah, ha-ha-cunting-ha! But what if it is you? What if you get no sleep at all? What if you then have to do a full day’s work or uni or both and then come back to a quiet house only to have it all start again as soon as you’ve fallen asleep? It would become wearing, don’t you think? Just a bit? Sleep deprivation does bad things to people. It does very bad things to the brain and caffeine alone cannot fix them, no no no it can’t. SHUTTUP!!! IT FUCKIN’ CAN’T!!! You get too many sleepless nights due to the selfishness of the deviates you live with and you can start to lose that easy-going approach to communal living. You can get snappy, unfriendly…violent even. I don’t know, maybe I’m just a bad and intolerant person but I need my sleep. I FUCKING NEED IT!!! SO, IF YOU DON’T LET ME SLEEP, I’LL KILL YOU ALL, YOU CUNTY, CUNTY, COCK-STAPLING FUCK-FREAKS!!!

 

* Bastard o’clock –  The hour of the morning when you realise there’s too much light in the sky for there to be any hope of feeling even vaguely normal at any point during the next 24 hours.