20 July 2006

Last night Mars and I sat down for dinner, cause we like it.

It was just a normal, boring dinner with Mars making pastabake and me making pasta with tomatoes and capers and anchovies and whatever else I could find. We were sitting at the dining room table and with a few lamps on and triple J playing softly in the background. It was very peaceful, ambient even, and I was half way through a bottle of red when Emo and his mate Demo came home. They had gotten take-aways from up the shops and so sat down with us to eat. Suddenly our nice little dinner had become a family meal complete with two moody teenagers.

To get the dinner party rolling I asked politely, “So what do you do, Demo?”
“Study.”
“What do you study?”
“Nursing.”
“That’s really cool-”
Emo starts laughing, food falls from his mouth.
Demo laughs too, food also falls from his mouth, “Nah, I study Arts. Dunno why I bother though. I’ve almost finished and I haven’t learnt anything.”
“Do you guys want a cordial?” Mars asks.
“Thanks.”
Pause… “Fuck..” Mars goes to get cordials for the kids.
Emo and Demo continue shoveling food into their mouths. They are making a bit of a mess trying to get the food out of the little foil containers so I ask, “Do you need a plate?”
“Thanks.”
Pause… “They're in the kitchen.”
Demo gets up to get a plate.
Emo asks, “Is there any salt?”
“It’s also in the kitchen.”
Emo goes to get it.
Emo and Demo were once housemates. When the lease ‘ran out’ (they were thrown out obviously) Demo moved back with his parents and we got Emo.
When everyone comes back Demo asks if we like having Emo live with us.
“Yeah, we always wanted a boy.” I reply.
Emo looks grossed out and I feel all Germaine Greer and nasty. It’s funny!
A song comes on the radio that Emo and Demo like. They start discussing it, and then Demo says meaningfully, “… but I’m sick of triple J. Triple R is much better.”
“I listen to RRR too!” I say, instantly feeling stupid for trying to prove myself to a nineteen year old.

So we talk about travel and music and study, and Emo makes gross jokes about ‘OD’ing in our spare room. And then at one stage Demo says to Mars, “Aren’t you glad you've got someone with a pulse around here?”
If looks could kill, the look Mars gave Demo would have surely (at the very least) caused gross injury.
"What are we? Chopped liver?" Mars seethes as she takes and instant dislike.

Anyway, Emo and Demo are going to Splendor this weekend, but haven’t seem to have made any plans about how to get there or get home, so I wonder if we’ll see them again…

And then the meal was over and Mars and I go to the kitchen to do the dishes and the boys go to their room to play.

Conclusions.
I feel kinda old.
I feel glad I’m no longer in the hood of teenagerdom.
That Demo was a little prick

10 comments:

Adam said...

Does emo have any cool stuff that you two ladies can inherit when he gets lost in the splendor?

Kids have such cool stuff these days.

Chesty LaRue said...

Emo and Demo remind me why I refuse to share house ever again.

At least you get funny stories out of it ...

Mars said...

LOLZ!!!1!

And yes, that is exactly what our dinner table looked like.

10 points to anyone who can pick the three parts of that story that i added in. Geez...you could recognise my potty-mouth anywhere.

Oh well.

Enny said...

Any chance we could get some sorta hand drawn illustration of him?

With snark please!

DelightfulJen said...

"When everyone comes back Demo asks if we like having Emo live with us.
“Yeah, we always wanted a boy.” I reply."

That's hilarious!

I hope Demo spends lots of time at your house, it will make for excellent blog fodder.

i said...

Oh the joys of sharehousing!!!

i share with 3 other people.. making it a house of 4!! the dynamics are unreal.. some people have been great to live with.. others i now cringe at their name..

he's definately a young one.. must be difficult!!

Adam said...

I bet $2.70 Dot pashes Demo within 2 months.

Any takers?

Dot said...

Adam, Emo doesn't own STUFF. remember, he's non-materialistic (unlike us other consumer pigs).

but yeah, he's giving us a few laughs.

but no, there will be no pashing (pot breath is a real turn-off).

ilse said...

Oh man, you just made me realise how glad I am not to be sharing a house anymore.

I'm living with my Fella, who is a bit of a slob and a bit of a 'oh I think I'll leave my shoes hmm... in the middle of the floor just where you'll stumble over them' type guy, but he is reasonable (but only if I'm reasonable!!).

I used to share with 6 and a half people. What a fucking nightmare.

In the end, when we moved out, we had about a cafe's worth of dirty dishes to do, which were crawling with maggots. I wanted to give them to Vinnies so badly. But I wasn't touching the maggots for shit. Therefore they did not get washed and given to people who could have used them. Skip for them.

I still feel guilty about that.


To summate: flatmates plural, no, flatmate lover, yeah, spose it's OK.

But secretly I wish I was living solo a lot of the time.

Dot said...

Maggot dishes!

well, that says it all.