(no subject)
More and more of my time seems to go towards dealing with mundane day to day garbage that does nothing to actually further my position in any way at all. Everything from having my bike run over on the first of this month (the insurance company was helpful, but the police weren't) to bouts of migraine and food poisoning that have wiped out the last two of my precious weekends.
The housing situation has gone to shit too. The new housie, Beth, is a filthy pig, even by my standards. So much so that Jess, the sensible, reliable, good flatmate has got sick of it and announced she's moving out in two weeks. This is ironic, because Jess was the one that insisted on moving in a girl 'because they're cleaner'. I can still find the headspace to chuckle vengefully at this. Now, I'm going to be the only one officially left on the lease, which makes me solely responsible for ultimately ensuring that our agents get $900 a
fortnight. Did I mention that Beth is completely flaky and didn't pay rent the first six weeks she lived with us? I'm terrified she's going
to move in one of her equally thin pretty vacuous friends. They all 'study' at dodgy upfront fee type 'international colleges' and earn
upwards of a grand a week doing things like modeling and singing and just stink of privillage and unreasonably easy lifestyles. This is a
girl who spent $450 on eBay concert tickets to go and see - wait for it - Justin Timberlake. You get the idea.
I'm being a little harsh. Beth is ok really, especially now she's sorted out the rent issue which was just a mistake, albiet an air-headed one. She's just young and self-obsessed (as opposed to old and self-obsessed) and is wealthy enough to fuck people over and not even notice she's done it.
Jess was the best thing about my house. She saved me when I was in a very tight spot. And she's leaving.
I'm thinking of upping stumps myself. It's such a hassle, but I might have too. But if I do, I'd be better of doing it before we find a new flatmate, and there's no way I can afford time to house hunt now. Argh! . . .
Hey
hi_de_ho, I bought a suit for the wedding. I was torn between Miami-vice-cocaine-dealer and Noir-italian-mobster. I got the latter, and three outrageous shirts, which make me look like a disheveled seventies one-hit-wonder who never had to work again. I love it.
The housing situation has gone to shit too. The new housie, Beth, is a filthy pig, even by my standards. So much so that Jess, the sensible, reliable, good flatmate has got sick of it and announced she's moving out in two weeks. This is ironic, because Jess was the one that insisted on moving in a girl 'because they're cleaner'. I can still find the headspace to chuckle vengefully at this. Now, I'm going to be the only one officially left on the lease, which makes me solely responsible for ultimately ensuring that our agents get $900 a
fortnight. Did I mention that Beth is completely flaky and didn't pay rent the first six weeks she lived with us? I'm terrified she's going
to move in one of her equally thin pretty vacuous friends. They all 'study' at dodgy upfront fee type 'international colleges' and earn
upwards of a grand a week doing things like modeling and singing and just stink of privillage and unreasonably easy lifestyles. This is a
girl who spent $450 on eBay concert tickets to go and see - wait for it - Justin Timberlake. You get the idea.
I'm being a little harsh. Beth is ok really, especially now she's sorted out the rent issue which was just a mistake, albiet an air-headed one. She's just young and self-obsessed (as opposed to old and self-obsessed) and is wealthy enough to fuck people over and not even notice she's done it.
Jess was the best thing about my house. She saved me when I was in a very tight spot. And she's leaving.
I'm thinking of upping stumps myself. It's such a hassle, but I might have too. But if I do, I'd be better of doing it before we find a new flatmate, and there's no way I can afford time to house hunt now. Argh! . . .
Hey
hi_de_ho, I bought a suit for the wedding. I was torn between Miami-vice-cocaine-dealer and Noir-italian-mobster. I got the latter, and three outrageous shirts, which make me look like a disheveled seventies one-hit-wonder who never had to work again. I love it.