I am horny. Very, very, very much so. I can’t help it. I only get shagged once a week. Twice if I’m lucky. These days, I dodge Gareth’s calls, and I only meet Uri for coffee, no foul play. I’m such a tease…
But. I’ve become very boring.
So what’s a girl to do? Gareth is still out of town, possibly until early next week. Victor’s probably working, as per usual. I’m not quite worked up enough to use my pink friend – my vibrator, if you’re wondering just who that is.
Earlier on, I got very turned on by watching Tony Soprano (I think he’s so sexy) and I sent someone a naughty email. He he he he. I wonder what he’ll do when he gets it. 😉
Please introduce yourself. I’d love to know who you are, what makes you tick, how much you weigh, why you read my stupid blog (fishing for a compliment here, as you can imagine…), if you’re certifiable, what you’re wearing right now and what you think of my sparkly smile.
Fine, you need not answer all those questions. One or two of them will suffice. The craziest (I don’t do “nice”; it’s such a fucking “nice” word) reply gets a little prize. I still need to decide on the prize. It might not be anything monetary, though. *She sobs*
But. It’ll put a smile on (or is it upon?) my dial, and that should make you happy, right?
So here’s the thing: my dear (or not so dear) landlady wants me out … by tomorrow night. I’ve got nowhere else to go, bar my parents’ two-bedroom semi with the outside toilet and no bathroom. Divine.
We don’t have a lease; we have a month-to-month agreement, according to her. I never signed anything; she never asked me to. Not even our “agreement” that I move out. She’s been bloody stupid, this isn’t something I would expect from someone with a 4-year diploma. But then again, she’s only a high-school teacher. What does she know?
So. Technically, I have the law on my side, even if only for a short little while. Problem is that she can make my life pretty damn difficult should she choose to. She said as much last Friday. Even threatened me, at which point I then asked her: “May I record you while you repeat what you said just now?”
At that point she stormed off, refusing to open the security gate to my flat. I had to beg her to open it. I don’t like begging, but I also didn’t feel like being outside on the street on Friday night. And I wouldn’t even know how to force a gate open.
Which is why I’ll be buying a massive lock tomorrow afternoon. And I won’t leave the flat over the weekend. She’ll have to lock me inside, then.
Leigh-Anne wants to move to the Northern Suburbs. A part of me likes, another bigger part of me says “NO!!”. I’m a city girl. I need my culture: coffee shops, bookstores, art exhibitions, poetry evenings, book launches, my fuck buddies, dinner parties, et cetera. But I’ll save money on rent. We saw a 2-bedroom flat in “Perou” for R1600 a month. Fuck me. That’s R1100 less a month than what I’m paying for my bachelor…
Argh. Victor would be pleased that I’m moving to the Northern Suburbs. My parents would also be pleased. My wallet, who is my dearest friend, would be fucking thrilled. But alas. Let’s see. Let’s see how things pan out in the next couple of days slash hours and then we can decide on my fate.
EDIT: Um, I was wondering, should I put up a fight, or should I let her have her way? What ya think?
tarahsweeney at g mail dot com
Got this yesterday… Haven’t had time to watch it yet. Thank you. 😉
There are some stuff happening right now that’s a bit much for me to handle. I can feel things may slide back into a maelstrom if I don’t stop it …
But do I want to stop it?
I saw two good friends today. Uri and my darling Glen. It’s the first time in months that I saw Glen again (fucking dodgy grammar, please find it in your heart to forgive me). And I was able to vent to Glen about some of the kak that is hitting my fan at the mo. Uri, well, I kept mum. It’s not as though he won’t understand, but he’s so good at pinpointing what’s wrong, it makes me want to cry. Argh. And I hate crying when I’m wearing mascara.
So I bought myself some pwetty things to make my heart sparkle again. I got new skanky red shoes yesterday already. They’re my new fuck me shoes. Every girl should have a pair of FMSs. Today I got new jeans. From Edgars, nogals. But they’re no-name jeans; I don’t do labels. I’m a label snob. It makes me look thin and pwetty! I’m so very thrilled with myself.
And then I got some new red wine glasses at Clicks. I’m far too easy to please. I don’t have to spend a lot of money; I spent R200 on the jeans and the shoes. Only!
Yes, I know I shouldn’t use shopping as therapy. Yes, I should tackle my problems instead of dodging them. But what if I just can’t? What if I’m having nightmares from them? What if my paranoia is so bad I refuse to believe what people tell me? Who can help me?
This is a stunning coat. It’s something I would love to wear, possibly with fabulous jeans and cute gold pumps.
I have absolutely no desire to go to work today. It’ll be the same old, same old: no work to do, surf the interwebs until I’m blue and then go home.
Yawn. True, I do write for myself when I’m at work. But it shouldn’t be like that, right? I should have work, right? Problem is that it we got paid yesterday, so it’ll look pretty suspicious if I stay away from work today, no matter what good excuse I can come up with.
I need a life. I’m stalking Natasha again on Facebook. Browsing her photos. Wondering where Toby went wrong, wondering where I went wrong, wondering where everything went wrong. Iamastalker.
It’s still difficult to believe how he could fall for someone who’s probably double my size, but then again, I guess it’s not all about the outer appearances. I hope she’s making him happy. Really, I do. I didn’t make him happy.
I just couldn’t respect him. I out earned him, I thought I was smarter than him, I detested his weed smoking, I was always grumpy, he just couldn’t make me happy, no matter how hard he tried. There was always something wrong. Yes, you guessed right: I blame myself.
Only during the last couple of months did I finally realize he’ll always earn less than me and I’ll be the breadwinner. And, eventually, I started to make peace with that. But it was too late by then.
So, I doubt we’ll ever be friends, but … argh. Fuck her! (Not quite sure where that came from, promise)
Wow. It’s been a hectic week. So much has happened. I’m too tired to sit down for a long period and write about everything. I need a glass of vino first. Oy, actually, that might just remind me of last night’s episode… Argh.
So, yeah. It happened. I got some adventure today. But it’s not the sort of adventure I’ve been craving. And it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be.
No, I’m not in trouble, so don’t worry. Or, don’t worry too much. What matters is that I’m as snug as a bug (well, almost) right now. And tomorrow is Saturday, which is my all time favourite day: I get to go to CAFDA. And then there’s a church sale happening somewhere in town, and then it’s off to the Biscuit Mill. Perhaps, because I do not have much money left. Pay day is only on Monday… Argh
So this is me signing off for the week. Mwah Mwah Mwah @ Everyone!!
No, I’m not. LOL. But.
I’m bored. Of life. Of myself. I need some excitement.
So I’m planning a getaway of sorts. Two weeks, possibly a full month. It’ll do me good and it’ll probably give me some perspective on a lot of things. I need that.
I’ll put my furniture in storage and hitchhike across SA. Fine, then, I won’t hitchhike. But I need some sort of adventure. Anything.