probably a good thing we cant own guns in Australia!
On Monday night my housemate knocks on my door (then opens it without me saying to come in. I could have been naked people.) and asks if she can park in my car spot while I am at work. I'm like, yeah I guess… and she promises to move the car by 5:30 at the absolute latest…which is usually later than I get home, but whatever.
So anyway, turns out I get stuck at work on a photo shoot (which didn’t even work out because it was so damn late) until 6… I get home around 6:20, her cars in my fucking car space! I swear if steam could come out of my ears, it would have. The problem here people is, if you can't park in your car spot, you can't park in the garage because they're all taken by different apartments and I can't park on the street because I don’t have a permit (she does.)
So I go upstairs, and she is sitting on the couch in her track suit pants and an ugly rugby top watching tv. I look at her… she doesn’t say anything… then this follows:
Me: Can you move your car?
Her: I was going to get Nick to do it later
Me: Well I don’t have anywhere to put my car, so can you please move it?
Her: But aren’t you parked on the street, I saw your car out there.
Me: Obviously not. I just got home
Her: Can I move it later?
Me: No. I'm double parking your car so you’ll have to move it now.
Her: Oh ok, no problem.
If it wasn’t a PROBLEM why did you argue with me you stupid bitch? Its my car spot and had you have continued with this stupid shit, I would have double parked you in all tomorrow morning so you were late for work.
Why does this make me so mad you ask? Well, its just one thing in a long line of things. They got the big giant room and no car spot. We got the teeny room and a car spot. On top of getting the big giant room, Nick also takes up 50% of the spare room and she takes up extra space downstairs with this hideously ugly chair that she never sits on and a giant beanbag that she never uses. Their crap is everywhere.
Despite my repeated requests for them to cook something healthy, they won't. last week I came home on Friday to a dinner of fucking sausages and packet pasta. This makes me extremely mad because I bust my ass off at work, to earn less money than them, I come home and I friggen cook healthy masterpieces that take into all their stupid accounts: “ewww I hate corn” “eewww brocolli” “ewwww vegetables” “rice? I hate rice. Why don’t you make pasta!” only to never get any fucking thanks and bitchy comments from her “this is good, but when I make it I put this in it and it takes sooo good” you know what. Ive lived with you for SIX months and I have yet to eat a meal of yours that I didn’t hate. They don’t know what a vegetable friggen is, and for someone doing their best to eat healthy (as I drink a chocolate milk. I'm stressed, its what I do) it pisses me off.
The boy has the best tactic for dealing with them. Every week he makes fish in a box. As in fish fillets from a box with a shit load of vegies. He has done this for 6 months, never changes. There are a few reasons for this
1- He hates to cook
2- He asked if he could clean an extra night instead of cook, they told him he had to cook
3- The first night he cooked he fucked it up so bad that they both bitched at him about his inability to cook.
So now he has found something they hate to eat and refuses to make anything else. They're like “do you think you could try making something new?” hes like “I could.”
Them, “are you?” him “No.”
I'm getting back to the stressed stage again… I couldn’t sleep last night for all the knots in my stomach and the early stages of a panic attack. In the end I think I worried myself to sleep. I dreamt of turning up to the hairdressers today only to find out it was Saturday and my hairdresser wasn’t in, and the mullet-giving lady was willing to chop my hair! I woke up and I'm like “WHAT DAY IS IT” freaking out because I really didn’t want it to be Thursday because it meant 2 more days of work to get through. It is Thursday though, but luckily for me, I am leaving early to go to the hairdresser and visit my family from NSW who I haven't seen in years. That’s stressing me out too! I won't know who is who and it makes me feel like a shitty cousin!
So anyway, turns out I get stuck at work on a photo shoot (which didn’t even work out because it was so damn late) until 6… I get home around 6:20, her cars in my fucking car space! I swear if steam could come out of my ears, it would have. The problem here people is, if you can't park in your car spot, you can't park in the garage because they're all taken by different apartments and I can't park on the street because I don’t have a permit (she does.)
So I go upstairs, and she is sitting on the couch in her track suit pants and an ugly rugby top watching tv. I look at her… she doesn’t say anything… then this follows:
Me: Can you move your car?
Her: I was going to get Nick to do it later
Me: Well I don’t have anywhere to put my car, so can you please move it?
Her: But aren’t you parked on the street, I saw your car out there.
Me: Obviously not. I just got home
Her: Can I move it later?
Me: No. I'm double parking your car so you’ll have to move it now.
Her: Oh ok, no problem.
If it wasn’t a PROBLEM why did you argue with me you stupid bitch? Its my car spot and had you have continued with this stupid shit, I would have double parked you in all tomorrow morning so you were late for work.
Why does this make me so mad you ask? Well, its just one thing in a long line of things. They got the big giant room and no car spot. We got the teeny room and a car spot. On top of getting the big giant room, Nick also takes up 50% of the spare room and she takes up extra space downstairs with this hideously ugly chair that she never sits on and a giant beanbag that she never uses. Their crap is everywhere.
Despite my repeated requests for them to cook something healthy, they won't. last week I came home on Friday to a dinner of fucking sausages and packet pasta. This makes me extremely mad because I bust my ass off at work, to earn less money than them, I come home and I friggen cook healthy masterpieces that take into all their stupid accounts: “ewww I hate corn” “eewww brocolli” “ewwww vegetables” “rice? I hate rice. Why don’t you make pasta!” only to never get any fucking thanks and bitchy comments from her “this is good, but when I make it I put this in it and it takes sooo good” you know what. Ive lived with you for SIX months and I have yet to eat a meal of yours that I didn’t hate. They don’t know what a vegetable friggen is, and for someone doing their best to eat healthy (as I drink a chocolate milk. I'm stressed, its what I do) it pisses me off.
The boy has the best tactic for dealing with them. Every week he makes fish in a box. As in fish fillets from a box with a shit load of vegies. He has done this for 6 months, never changes. There are a few reasons for this
1- He hates to cook
2- He asked if he could clean an extra night instead of cook, they told him he had to cook
3- The first night he cooked he fucked it up so bad that they both bitched at him about his inability to cook.
So now he has found something they hate to eat and refuses to make anything else. They're like “do you think you could try making something new?” hes like “I could.”
Them, “are you?” him “No.”
I'm getting back to the stressed stage again… I couldn’t sleep last night for all the knots in my stomach and the early stages of a panic attack. In the end I think I worried myself to sleep. I dreamt of turning up to the hairdressers today only to find out it was Saturday and my hairdresser wasn’t in, and the mullet-giving lady was willing to chop my hair! I woke up and I'm like “WHAT DAY IS IT” freaking out because I really didn’t want it to be Thursday because it meant 2 more days of work to get through. It is Thursday though, but luckily for me, I am leaving early to go to the hairdresser and visit my family from NSW who I haven't seen in years. That’s stressing me out too! I won't know who is who and it makes me feel like a shitty cousin!
posted by Sarah at 1:11 pm
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