Trying to avoid this ghey look

I just went fishing amongst the junk in our spare room, and managed to a) locate my backpack and b) get it out. Quite an achievement in itself, really. Anyway, i've since decided that my backpack is too big for me to take away this time.

It's 70 litres i think, and last time i went away (although, i was going for a year so had to pack a lot of stuff) i managed to fill it to capacity to the point where it weighed about 25kg, and i actually couldn't pick it up. I shit you not - i couldn't lift my own backpack. Sometimes i'd try, and get knocked over by it when i tried to swing it up onto my back.

At first, i though that was pretty average, and everyone's backpack was difficult to manage. Then Dot came to meet up with me at the end of my trip, and she had this glorified SCHOOL BAG which she managed to casually sling onto her back. It was then i realised that i was being quite ridiculous about the size of mine.

So the point to this story is this. My backpack has three separate compartments... and i'm going to go away only filling ONE! Let's see if it's possibe, eh..

Also, i want the internet's opinion on the day pack.
Are they wank, or handy? Am i going to regret it if i don't take mine?

Speak!

W00t. I feel like i'm entitled, somewhat, to use that lingo now that i have PROVED my technological skillz by creating my very first web-poll. Check it. Over there, in the side bar, fools...

Impressed? I know i am.

Gather 'round kids, we've got a new inductee into the 21st century.

Here's Dot, who's bought the cheapest portable telephonic device... no, that's not right.

It's a MOBILE PHONE! Yes, the cheapest mobile phone money can buy.

It's such a larff some of the very dodgy text messages she's trying to sending out advertising her new found technological skillz to anyone who cares.

The transfer of hard data into digital data (as they call it in the industry), happening right before my eyes!

uh-oh spaghetti-o's. haven't visited here since i started my new career in the world of 'data entry' (we in the industry call it DE) and it seems like while i've been away the shit has hit the fan. er... so is Emo really that bad? (or, Mars, are you suffering from serious diet-coke withdrawals?) he deserves at least another perspective. like. he's not THAT bad. so here is...

my case for Emo

1. 
   last week i only saw him TWICE (last housemate of mine LIVED on couch and drove me crazy with his eternal 'BEINGNESS of around me' all the time)
   
2. 
   one of the times i saw Emo he was dancing around in the kitchen cooking his two minute noodles while wearing an orange wig. cute, heh?
   
3. he somehow manages to be sincere and shallow at the same time. like he's big on not being materialistic, however he hasn't quite worked out that by not owning anything he has to then take from everyone else (ie food, our house). but he's only first year philosophy, so i reckon but the time he gets to second year he'll have worked out the flaws in his zen.
   
4. 
   he says i have a cool cd collection (it's easier to admire when it's alphabetical)
5. 
   he is easy to talk to and doesn't seem judgemental at all
6. 
   he is very young and from the country
7. 
   what he does in his room (and in his bottles) is up to him, and as far as the rest of the house goes his presence isn't felt that much (Mars, i know you disagree here but he doesn't smell that bad and i told him to only use my plates and cutlery)

this is not permanent. he is just staying here until he finds somewhere else, and i WILL get on his case eventually. when you are overseas Mars it will be uni holidays so i'll encourage him to leave then (that's if he doesn't leave earlier... he might actually hate it here. we do have a website that currently focuses on bitching about him a lot and i'm sure his badly tuned zen must be picking up some of this around that house.)

so that’s my case. Emo’s okay. and i’ve got a quota of 2500 pieces of data per week to be thinking about…

Here's the thing, roigh.. i'm growing to hate the Emo. Like, hate his guts. And Dot, well, she just doesn't care. She doesn't hate the Emo, for reasons i'm sure she will elaborate on, once she has read my character assassination about to happen here.

I know we've mentioned that we have an Emo, but the details have really been somewhat.. less than elaborate. When the Emo first moved in, he said to me verbatim..
"Ohh, i'm probably, like, only gonna stay a week.. or like, a month"

Four weeks, roigh? So the four weeks is up this weekend, and Emo seems to have settled in nicely here at Dot'n'Mars HQ, with no immediate plan to like... fuck off. Ya know?

And while i sort of feel sorry for him, in that he's only 19.. from the country and has no money and stuff.. increasingly, i am wondering why exactly, this is now my problem. According to him, living without any money at all is "enlightening" and he tries to get by not spending more than $10 a week on food. This is all well and good... if that's the lifestyle he chooses, good for him.. but it doesn't really stop there. The other day i went to make a sandwich, knowing i had some cheese... go to the fridge to get the cheese out and find an empty cheese wrapper! My blood boiled, i absolutely seethed and threw, what could only be described as a complete tantrum, the likes of which you have only witnessed on a two year old.

Sadly, no-one was home to witness it.

I know it's only cheese. And he did bring home more that night. But that incident has piled on top of other things and it pissed me off rightly. I mean, i really went off him when i saw that blow in the bottle. Yeah, that was the beginning of the end for me and Emo.

The other fucking annoying thing he does is take really... really.. long showers. Like, he stands under there for atleast 20 minutes, doing what - i have no idea. (anyone suggests wanking in our shower and i'll fucken neck 'em) But get this.. he doesn't have any soap. He stands under the shower for 20 minutes wasting all the hot water and doesn't even use soap! It's like cooking for a bulimic. What's the fucking point?

And then tonight, i heard him using my hair dryer. What the fuck? Does he just think everything in this house is here for him, or what?

I'm getting to the point where i want to collect everything that's mine from around the house and keep it in my room. And i think that's really unfair on me. We're all adults, surely we can restrain ourselves not to use things that aren't our own? He doesn't seem to realise that things don't just exist.. someone owns those.

He makes me feel mean. And i'm really trying not to be mean.. but at the same time, i don't feel like i owe him anything. The other night, Dot and i were cooking this gourmet stir-fry... it was fucking great. Anyway, Emo wanders in with this freezer bag and in it were 3 unwashed potatoes. They looked like something he’d just dug out of someone’s veggie patch, and this is what he was eating for dinner. Potato. I felt really stingey and tight and had a serious battle with my conscience about not offering him any of our stir-fry... And then i thought about it, and honestly couldn't ever picture the day that he would go shopping, come home with all these ingredients and cook us a meal. I know it's not necessarily tit-for-tat, but you've got to put in to take out, right?

He seems to have no respect for what is essentially, our home. The mess he's made of the sun-room is unbelievable - and the smell! It leaks out from under the door and permeates the whole bloody house. I feel like my mother.

I know this is a bit of a whinge, but i really want the internet's opinion as to whether they think i'm being unreasonable towards Emo.

He eats my food.
Uses my stuff.
He fucking stinks.
He was only supposed to be temporary.
And worst of all - he displays blow in a bottle as "art"

Shoot me now.

Hey yo, get this... on the census, Dot and I put ourselves down as a de-facto couple*

Power to the lesbots of the world!

Gafaw..

*Even though we are not**
**This method of referencing seems to have become quite popular on the interwebs, non?

why haven’t i blogged lately?
it’s because i’ve been busy falling into a deep depression. it started when i returned from the Northern Territory and realised i can no longer really call myself a student, and it climaxed Saturday afternoon when i found myself sorting my CD collection into alphabetical order… i hate to say it but - i’m bored!

anyway, thanks to ‘XTC’ going cheap at JBs i now own a CD starting with every letter of the alphabet.

I must be desperate. I've just spent 2 hours talking to Emo, when i should have been doing my essay.

The essay which was due on Friday. The essay which i took today off work to do. The essay which is still, at 10pm, not done.

Very fucking average human.

As we know, Dot had a recent clean out of her wardrobe, so being as i am procrasting about writing my essay which was due last Friday, i thought i'd have a bit of a clean out too. And now, i pose this question to the internet:

How much camel is too much camel?



Camel Cords.

I know, ew. Too much camel already, right.

Relax! They're out. O. U. T.








Camel cord skirt.

It much have been a phase.

But yo, this skirt is Marks and Spencer.

Exotic, non?




Camel pleather jacket.

Yes. Pleather.

This jacket really reminds me of Inspector Gadget... but i bet he had more taste than to wear pleather.



(Shut up Dot, you have a pleather couch, if i'm not mistaken!)


There was more camel, but thankfully, i must have gotten rid of it before now. Which i guess brings to my next item. This one has sentimental value, i've had it for years, and you sure can tell.

It's time to go... the Rusty t-shirt.

I bought this t-shirt back in year 12 when i was FREAKING OUT (as i like to do) the night before free dress day. It's served me well as it seems to have grown with me, though it has been relegated to a pyjama t-shit for about the last seven years.. to the point where is in now completely see through, and has atleast 10 holes in it. It's indecent, and Emo (probably) doesn't deserve to be subjected to seeing me wear this old faithful. Sad.

As for this one though...



They'll have to bury me in it.

Now, i dunno much about anything, but i'm pretty sure Ghandi was a bang-up tip-top sort of a guy. A real winner, if like, a lasting impression on the world is what you were going for.

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Doubt i measure up. We all know i am the love-child of Gough and Joan Kirner anyway... i may not be pretty, but i sure do have a vision.

Dear god i am FREAKING OUT.

FREAKING THE FUCK OUT! i have to tell the internet. The internet will help me through this moment...

Emo has returned after a three day drug binge absence. So i am standing there in the kitchen and he opens the door to his room and we are chatting. Normal, like. And i notice something behind him sitting up on the shelf...

"What the fuck is that"? i ask, looking in its direction.
"Ohh..heh.. don't ask.." is the response i'm met with.

Let me paint the picture. An empty naggon of Jim Beam. A cenitmetre of white liquid in the bottom.

Spoof.

Spoof!

There is spoof in my house.

Spoof on the shelf.

Bottled spoof.

That's disgusting. That's foul. That's fucking off. I declared as i'm walking out.

Spoof, people. SPOOF! On the shelf!

Internet, tell me i'm not over-reacting.

a day at the races
i went to the opera on Friday and saw 'Don Giovanni'. it was fine. it is in English, which i hoped would help me appreciate it more. however, when you know what they are saying it's quite repetitive and silly and distracting, 'vengeance! vengeance! i must have vengeance! he broke my heart! with the smell of his fart! vengeance!'*
the story is Don Giovanni is a totally scoundrel who spends all his time abusing women, using his flesh and his song. meanwhile, an increasing number of abused women spend their time crying for vengeance. SPOILER! Don Giovanni eventually gets what's coming to him and disappears into a hole in the stage. he does this because - and this is hard to understand - a statue invites him to.
anyway, doing it 'posh' we went out to wine bar beforehand and then to the Supper Inn (which is good, but there are one thousand good Chinese restaurants in Chinatown so you'd feel a bit silly queuing to get into one. well, you'd think.) and so having spent most of our money opted for the cheapest Opera tickets sitting with 'the Gods'.

it was more like 'Gods and Monsters' up there.
firstly, when the lights went out there was the usual shuffle, as people in cheap seats at the back sneak down to empty ones in the front. and some guys and their tarts decide to climb over MY chair and i got a good flash of fanny.
then about halfway through act one a woman's mobile rings. and SHE ANSWERS IT.
then another woman started hissing at everyone to stop tapping their feet.
then towards the end of the opera a guy taps a woman's knee and asks her to stop talking. the woman's boyfriend takes offence to this guy handling his girlfriend and cries for vengeance. heated argument begins, guys both stand up and... ushers come over and tell them to sit down.
anyway, after it was finished i commented to my friend that opera seems to attract a low class of person, and she replied, 'no, it inspires a low class of behaviour'.
which, judging from the ONE TIME i've been to the opera, is true. if you can actually see past the overweight singers, corny lines, weird stories, ugly costumes and feeble sets, and LISTEN to the music... well, you might be a worse person for it. i know i certainly stole a program.

* not actual line from Don Giovanni