* jazzyhands *

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::2.1.06:: Home on the Deranged

I'm having housemate issues. I mean, they are really nice people and all, it's just that they are like bears with furniture who'd wallow in their own filth if it wasn't for me. How hard is it to put a bag of rubbish in the bin, for fuck sake? Apparently the preferred method of rubbish disposal around here is to just keep dumping stuff in the kitchen bin until it covers the kitchen floor. And the whole concept of recycling - it's been around for a while now. We are five people with one tiny wheelie bin. If that bin gets filled with bottles then don't put your regular rubbish in the recycling bins, morons.

I figure there are two ways to deal with this. There is the mature, adult method of actually talking to my housemates about this issues, getting it out in the open and resolving it. But then there's the Kathryn way which involves mostly sitting in my room plotting against them (and bitching about them online).

My plots mostly involve convincing my housemates that I'm a psycho bitch who must be feared. I want to get them to the point that they obey my every command but not to the point where they move out. See in this wacky household, the owners rent out each room separately so I have no say in the new housemates therefore am likely to get even less trained monkeys.

Already I've completed step one - screaming abuse at my housemate for having noisy sex. We aren't just talking a bit of panting and groaning here - we are talking full on wounded sea mammal noises for over half an hour. While I was trying to sleep. They stopped immediately and I've heard no sex noises from that room since. Hopefully I've scarred the boy so he can no longer gain erection. I did tactful resist adding a "and she's faking it...." as a parting shot. But she had to be. I know fake sex noises when I hear them.

But that's only the beginning.

I spoke to my sister about this plan and she was incredibly helpful. She lives with Mum so I guess that makes her a world expert on living with Psycho Bitches From Hell. Her suggestons included writing stuff on their bedroom windows - particularly effective for the housemate has no curtains in his room that faces a major road. And, I swear to god, he had a hooker in his room the other night. I was walking back inside after seeing a friend off and a woman who looked cheap and slutty in a professional manner was sitting in his room.

She also suggested painting satanic looking symbols on their doors in fecal matter.

Then there is the swing in the complete opposite direction and finding religion. Very zealously. A la Carrie's mother. A giant crucifix would really brighten up the lounge room but I'd start small - sticky notes saying "overflowing bins made baby Jesus cry" and such.

Or getting sound bites from the Exorcist and playing them from hidden devices late at night. My sister also suggested having blood drip from the walls but you have to have people give a shit for that to work.

I've also thought about installing web cams and broadcasting their sexual exploits to the world.

These are all very good and workable plans but she had to go too far. She had to suggest something so diabolically evil and sanity-shattering that it was beyond any moral comprehension. I mean, I have my limits. And, let's face it, I can't leave Celine Dion blaring in my room every time I go out without first acquiring said Celine Dion music in some way first.

Now if I get a camera, I reckon I could film this and sell it to commercial tv, as a Big Brother-esque reality tv show. Except, damn, my housemates are all unattractive and, with the exception of myself, lack big knockers (even the other chick - well especially her, a couple of the dudes have a decent set).

Still I'll kept you posted as they fall, one by one.

Disclaimer: my complaints against my housemates are all incredibly legitimate and are in no way related to me being a bitter old crone who is pissed off because they all getting more sex than me. Not one little bit.

Comments:

 

Playing Celine Dion at full blast might hurt you more than it hurts them.

 

 

or do what Forest did in Forest Gump - mimic them, i can imagine that would go down well....

but would all this change the fact that they would stop living in their own flith.

you could write a book about it. :]

 

 

Swap the neighbour's lubricant for quick-drying superglue. That way, next time they have loud sex, they'd get stuck. And hopefully, it would be while they're doing it in a very kinky position, making it very hard for them to manouevre their way around the room.

When they start screaming for help, just turn up the Celine Dion.

 

 

just DUMP the rubbish in their rooms, for goodness sake.

 

 

I like the Exorcist idea... or, start planting guy's t-shirts in her room to create the illusion of an affair. Better yet, photos of naked men, preferably hotter than her boyfriend.

 

 

be suttle, small disturbing things...When I left my shared house I hid some meat... hot days - that smell can last for days

 

 

where'd you go? i miss your writings...

 

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