Archive for Cleanliness

11 Shit Things That Make Share-House Living Suck.

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

 

If it wasn’t bad enough that I have had to endure the indignity of disability and the smug, well-humoured Hoh hoh, what have you done to yourself?s  that go along with it, I had a particularly malignant acquaintance capitalise on my misfortune in order to prove his bullshit neo-hippy thesis that my living alone makes me an elitist fuck and that I should get over my self-importance and live in a share-house like a real person, thus helping save the planet by being more economical with energy and water and, of course, breaking less crockery by having house-mates who’d do the dishes.

 

Peter,

Fuck you! You are a complete cunt! If I thought I could get away with it I would chop your head off and stuff it in your fucking worm farm, you patronising perma-culture-shit-freak. Everyone hates you, did you know that? Everyone at work also suspects you are a chronic masturbator because you always look vaguely sweaty and glassy eyed and you’re too anal to just be stoned at work. In addition, you know how you shagged Emma from accounts after the Christmas party? And how you bragged about it like a complete wank-stain? She told me and Shane that you couldn’t get it up, and that then you cried and said it was because you’d really fancied her for ages and you were just overwhelmed by the moment. Ha ha ha ha ha!!! She told us this the next night at the pub and since then we’ve been gradually shopping the tale around to everyone, that’s why the new girls always smile at you! Ah, you suck!

DON’T EVER TALK TO ME AGAIN OR I’LL BURN YOUR FUCKING HOUSE DOWN!!!

 

Sorry. Back to my point. Peter had made me really angry. How dare he suggest I go back to share-house life? I beat the nightmare of shared accommodation and I vowed never to go back. The more I thought about how much of a cunt Peter is and why I hate share-house living, the more reasons I found to stick to my guns. So for your entertainment, in no particular order I will share 11 Shit Things That Make Share-House Living Suck.

 

#1 Pigs, Bitches & Dishes Berserker.

 

OK, so that’s three shit things. I only really wanted to talk about dishes berserker but in order to do that it’s important that everyone understand the nature of pigs and bitches.

 

In a perfect world the inhabitants of a share-house would distribute household duties evenly between them, there would be no need of rosters, reminders, snide remarks or passive-aggressive notes. It would be an anarchic utopia where the people would organize themselves and live in equitable harmony. I imagine most people who have endured shared accommodation will have found that life is rarely so idyllic.

 

In my experience every share-house has a pig. This is the dirtiest person in the house and they will determine the dirt level the rest of the occupants have to endure unless a bitch can be found. A bitch is anyone who’s filth tolerance is lower than their resistance to becoming everyone else’s mum. They will end up cleaning up everyone else’s crap because they can’t stomach living in an open sewer. Pigs prey on this characteristic and wait it out until the bitch reveals themselves. They don’t necessarily enjoy living in filth, they just have an aversion to cleaning. The bitch mantle once earned is hard to shed.

 

If no bitch appears, sooner or later  the house runs out of dishes which presents a problem. In my experience this precipitates a discussion in which everyone eventually agrees to take turns at doing the dishes, whilst secretly hoping that a bitch can still be found. So a stand-off develops, the dishes pile up and no-one does them until there are no more and every surface of the kitchen is covered in dirty, smelly, crusted-up dishes, then the person whose turn it is relents and does dishes berserker*. That is, unless they’re on tour in Queensland for a month with their stupid band like a total cunt, in which case the remaining occupants have to fight it out amongst themselves.

 

I fucking hate doing the dishes. I don’t imagine there are too many people who truly love it but it’s one of many things that really shits me off. Unfortunately, I also really despise dirt. I make a strong distinction between dirt and mess. I don’t mind a place being a bit messy and other people’s things lying around as long as it’s not dirty (within reason, of course – don’t leave your rubber fist on the coffee table no matter how clean it is, that’s just wrong). Dirt is disgusting, but as much as I hate dirt, I’m fucked if I’ll just lie down and be bitch just because the cock-rotting fuck-pigs I live with have no sense of domestic hygiene. Dishes berserker is completely fucked and so are pigs and bitches.

 

*Dishes Berserker is so called because it is a truly epic undertaking. Where doing the dishes for anyone in a normal household takes 10-15 minutes, dishes berserker can cover the entire tracklist of three CDs and still leaves in its wake another, potentially more hazardous, problem.

On Being A Stinky F*#ker!

Posted in Crap Jobs with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 5, 2008 by Buck Frain

 

I was on the 86 tram today, heading up Smith Street in Collingwood, when a guy got on. He was an unkempt, very Smith-St-looking guy with a big backpack and hair matted into one big dread. Yeah, dead giveaway – one matted dread, not even cool, cared-for dreads plural, but one manky slept-on nest – the mark of a lazy fucker with no sense of self or personal hygiene. I wouldn’t care,  I do hold a certain affection for the squalid sleaziness of Smith St and its population…except that he stank, I mean really stank. He got on the tram and and instantly a wall of  foetid, unwashed rankness seared my eyes and stuck its fingers down my gag reflex. I dry-retched and I could see that everyone around me also appeared to be suffering.

For fuck’s sake, why would you want to be a stinky fucker? Why, out of all the possible choices you could make in life, would you choose not washing yourself? Fuckin’ WHY??? And don’t even try to tell me it’s because he’s poor because I’ll shit in a postpack and mail it to you! I know poverty, I’ve been poor and I’ve travelled to countries where they have real poverty, people still manage to wash themselves. People living on less than a dollar a day still manage to regularly wash their clothes and their bodies and behave like people, so this cunt’s stench is nothing to do with poverty, this was a mother-fucking lifestyle choice! 

Again I will ask: WHY? What does the smelly person get out of being smelly? There must be some upside other than saving water and preserving the world’s soap reserves. What the feculent-rotting-carcass is wrong with bathing?  I mean, when I was 7 I didn’t like having showers but that was more due to their disruption of the day’s activities and their being the precursor to bed-time rather than from a desire to be a stinking shit-merchant. So what is it? Could it be a strategy of dealing with fellatiophobia (the fear of being sucked off)? If so, it’d probably work – 99%* of respondents interviewed said they’d be much less likely to go down on a guy with a cheesy cock. 

I’m all for diversity, I genuinely am. I love that I live in a pluralistic society where people can live more or less however they choose. I don’t look down upon those people who prefer not to conform to sterile consumerist norms. No, I celebrate the individual’s right to choose their own path even when their choices are very different to my own. But there are limits to my tolerance. If you want to smell like spew-flavoured armpits, vintage dick-cheese and a busted arse, go for your life, BUT FUCKING WALK THERE!!! Don’t get on a public tram and make paying customers dry-retch because of your disgusting stink-fetish. I don’t care what reason you’ve got, there’s no fucking justification for it, DON’T BE A STINKY FUCKER NEAR PEOPLE!!! GO STINK IN A FUCKING CAVE, YOU MISERABLE SHIT-SACK!!! It happens all the time, stinky bastards are everywhere, some of them even manage to make an occupation out of it: 

Aaw, maaate, could you spare $2, I’ve gotta…

No, I don’t! Not for you, you fuckin’ stinking shitbag! You’re a smelly mother-fucker and I wish you’d fucking die!!! Fuck off!!! 

Don’t even get me started on beggars. In developing countries, fine – all respect and compassion. In Australia – go fuck yourself! Take your mobile phone and call someone who cares, you junkie cunt! 

I know that sometimes everyone gets a bit sweaty – that’s fine, but fuck it, here’s some guidelines:

  • WASH!!!
  • Yourself and your clothes.
  • With soap.
  • Regularly!
  • DON’T recycle your underwear, you cheesy shit-fuck!
  • If you’re a naturally smelly person, carry deodorant.
  • If you’re going near people, FUCKING USE IT!!! 

I swear my patience with willfully these stinky fuckers is wearing painfully thin. Any decent citizen should be legally permitted to remove a smelly person from public transport, shops, anywhere they become a malignant nuisance, and set them on fire. People complain about passive smoking but inhaling the acrid vapours of decaying flesh and stale body waste is hideous, it’s a fuckin’ crime against humanity. If you want to stink like garbage you should be incinerated like garbage! GET FUCKED!!! If you see a guy with a jerry can on trains and trams around Melbourne, that’ll be me and you better hope you don’t fucking stink!

 

                

*Source: Buck Frain’s Attitudes To Genital Cheese Survey 2008. The other 1% threw up and/or declined to give an intelligible answer.