Getting Friendly With Boredom

I was fortunate enough to grow up loved I came out of the relationship with a healthy sense of dysfunction that comes from being loved by crazy people wrestling with their own issues...but what I did grew up without is the abundance of swag stuff toys whatever you want to call it so when Evil and Genius with their mountain of swag complain of boredom I have to suck in a big load of are you fucking kidding me and stifle it down my throat like the nasty piece of crockery that it is.

I've become accustomed to ignoring their wails of boredom because I'm far too busy picking up the mountain of shit they've littered around the house.

Power Out

Nothing makes Evil and Genius more dangerous than a power cut...as I sit here watching the craziness escalate voices getting louder room descending into a pit of despair am drinking my only cup of coffee of the morning wondering if this continues should I do the descent thing and go to bed put my headphones on...because everything is tolerable with the right music.

Practice Makes Evil Dangerous

That's my new motto "practice makes Evil dangerous"...that I've mentally engraved into my consciousness...her latest artistic endeavour is attempting too colour in the lines sane person would just dismiss this as normal child development of their hand eye coordination...but not me definitely not me.

This is target practice plain and simple her weapon of choice will be the mighty crayon and she's getting good..better start practicing to sleep with one eye open.

Evil/Genius Timeout

Evil this is how she looks when not amused

Haven't been talking much about Evil or Genius lately maybe their renouncing their destructive occupation...yeah I had to laugh a lot at the absurd thought..no its the summer they've probably declared some sort of seasonal respite and by respite I mean still fighting but their talking more breaks because of the sweltering heat.

Or maybe they haven't taken any respite and I just keep blacking out from the heat either way I ain't complaining real our delusion I'll take whatever respite I can get.

Tick Bomb

Mother nature sucks if she sucked any harder I'd probably have an orgasm..and that is not how I want a happy ending.

The number of human species equals 1..mother freaking natures bastards billions I don't care about accurate numbers am too busy with my latest invading hoards the fucking TICKS.

Ticks I've googled them their little flat arachnid bloodsuckers that crawling around looking for a meal..dear ants am sorry for all the bitching please comeback seriously please am sorry about the bleach baths tap dancing stompedes and showing the kids improper use of a magnifying glass.

I haven't seen the ants lately maybe the ticks are their version off zombie apocalypse...right now I'd take a line of relentless scavengers scouring every corner of the house and garden for scraps versus filthy disease carrying bloodsuckers..anything that has me on its menu is going down faster then that fucking titanic.

Cat Mafia

A rat..the only good thing about finding a big fat rat on my door is that it was a dead big fat rat...dead is the only acceptable form for dirty rodent...after several pokes and prods I officially declared it totally dead before my DIY medical examination it was just playing dead.

A normal sane person would just assume the walking flea rug collapsed from heat exposure but am not sane nor normal...am driving straight to crazy town and declaring myself mayor were am issuing war on the cat mafia...yes the mother fucking cat mafia the only ones capable off this heinous crime...I'm onto you feline mobsters I'm onto you.

Competitive Buzz Killers

Twitter...yes I finally caught the tweetbug late but I'm making up for it with my rampant diarrhoea of tweets just flowing from my mind..its free and all I have to do is ramble on about trivial stuff and occasionally air my problems an active imagination is a must as is a heavy dose off exaggeration sprinkled on reality to spice it up a bit..so basically tweet about sex drugs and mental disorders and the followers will come faster then a premature ejaculation.

Well that was all fine who doesn't love the sound of their own minds I quiet like the part where am alone but broadcasting to millions who probably just skip most of my best tweets and only following me out of obligation..guilt is always good for something that's why I'm serial follower every now and then I'll get into a mood peruse through the endless roll of tweeters on my timeline check their timeline who they follow its not stalking well only minor stalking beginner level I guess twitter is like an online stalking course where we all want mutual stalkers and stalking

Well now am being spammed by tweet bots asking if I want more followers guaranteed just pay..well played facebook well played this twitter thing is just one big facebook game start playing get addicted then you have to pay because free only works to a certain level addiction then once your hooked they overload you with all shiny stuff to give you that extra edge..its called cheating people don't get me wrong I've done my fair share off game cheating a few cheat codes here and there to get past the hard or boring level but this seems pointless any cheating that involves money is pointless.

I guess I'll stick to being the turtle slow and steady wins the non existent race..coz am pretty sure only the sad ones care for numbers..personally I like the feeling I get everytime someone follows me instant fake followers is basically a fake orgasm its only great if you don't know its fake..and I know their fake very fake.

Electrical Fritz Syndrome

I don't have an aircon I have a temperamental bitch con..the bedroom is a sauna which is not the best sleeping temperature and that hormonal teen on the wall is being pissy again blowing hot air..really do you hate me that much I guess I'm going to have to be the adult and find out what's wrong with the bitch.

Cooling Down

Aggressive forearm flapping...being lazy the only exercise I do is what I like to call daily necessary movements no more than what is required to get me from A to Z with minimum sweat and steps...and no less I wish there were even less but that would involve sleeping getting up only to eat and piss I've explored that option but the family huddled together for an intervention forcing me to run..well played family well played.

So I'm slouched on this uncomfortable erect dinning chair used as office chair flapping the magazine like some possessed devil woman about to have an epileptic fit or an orgasm that's going disappointedly towards possibly a stroke too close to tell but what ever the outcome all I'm realty trying to do is just cool down..i suppose if I wasn't so lazy I'd move closer to the fan or I might consider switching the aircon on all very good options to avoid breaking my arm but frankly I had to reject them because it would require moving..the heat only amplifies my laziness so I'm just going to sit here switching arms until I have no option but to absolutely move.

Good Friday

Yesterday was friday the 13th..and I survived obviously although the power cut was a very close "OH OH" moment especially since it happened at midnight and we live in a sort of cul de sac the neighbours might as well be dead we never see them just the dogs every fucking dog that has graced this planet seems to have congregated to our little corner too bark all night long...i exaggerate but out feels like it every bloody night...i probably should thank the dogs they might be the reason we're still alive.

Well the day passed without me having too blame it for all my ills..of course I might have gotten into more shenanigans if it wasn't too hot that I just literally sweat too death a little each day praying for the winter so I can gripe about that.

Blackout

The universe is fucking hilarious and I'm also certain its retarded..summer on the island is like being stranded in the desert but with all the modern conveniences..which in my opinion is the only reason I haven't made a murder suicide pact with the family off course when I say pact I mean implied..so if you cut that little thread of sanity that holds everything I need to survive..then know I fucking hate universe.

It was late and the bloody kids tv is on 24 hour..gone are the days of empathy and sympathy for adults held hostage by their miniture cabbage patch dolls..now the evil of dora is on spin cycle more proof that the universe is a fuctard...so finally tired from sweating in the home turned spa rounded up the scurrying critters just so the universe could flip me the fingers laugh maniacally then cut the power..the fucking power that runs everything in this 21 century house...no light no tv most importantly in this sweltering heat no fan or aircon can't even get a drink off water because the water dispenser needs electricity.

So now its hot more humid am sweating from every pore just standing there worrying about the bloodsuckers because yes the electric repellent for the mosquitoes is electric...my entire survival and sanity revolves around electrical things and I do love my electrics...so we had to sit outside inside was an oven and dark and we were lambs for the sucking..outside was cooler and dark and still for the sucking but at least it was breathable.

The moths went crazy for the torch the kids loved it like a half arsed camping trip kept asking for smores (don't even get me started on the effects of too much american shows) had top google that it involves work that am not prepared to slave for this heat for.

So thanks for the laughs universe..i fucking hate you...only kidding I just won't be adding you to my tweets or facebook list.

Variety Spice of Nightmares

Fonts...too many fucking fonts I spent all day trying them on like they were clothes...god talk about the stress..lost count of the number of coffees I've had just so I wouldn't fall asleep from sheer boredom..but its a boring addiction that you just can't stop.

Too fat..too thin..too bent..too I can't read that shit..it always nice to have choice but when your lazy to the point it becomes pathological then having options is draining...after all that trying and retrying I just went with the font I always choose...pointless but then I'm a creature of habit I still love my hoodies even though now its become the fashion style of backpack wearing terrorists.

Procrastination

Thank you for giving my laziness a fancy name...because laziness by any other name is still laziness but procrastination sounds positive and active...its like taking drugs but its better if its medicinal..I see my prescription as the thin line between the perception of responsibility and jail time.

I procrastinate my laziness isn't just half arsed slacking...its slacking while actively seeking to do anything but what I'm supposed to do..I'm lazy but with a purpose.

Roast Dinner Special

 

I’m British…so the weather is my icebreaker and griping about the weather well that’s just ingrained into my psyche…am that awkward goldilocks of weather who still waiting for that just right mix of sunny and gentle cooling breeze…so you’d think living on a Mediterranean would be ideal…ideal fucking setting for constant extremes.

Well now its the summer season and its been building up since march starting from reasonable rising to tolerable…which ended in the second week of June now were sliding down to ‘is going naked an option because I’m sweating in my bikini’….really can I go naked I know am passed the age of acceptable public nudity and am not on enough drugs to get away with it…but I’m sweating sticky sweat …Forget the sunscreen breakout the ice..its summer…the season of slow roasting and involuntary blood donations to anything with wings, teeth and suckers…IT feels like a tax the amount am bleeding…is there a rebate for that.

 

The Devil Wears Pink

 

speaking of the devil…the evil genius is parading the room dressed only in her Dora underwear body stained with glitter and make up that looks like it was applied by the hand of an epileptic with a short attention span.

she's experimenting with the body art thing in strokes…in an attempt I assume to find her style she's covered in pale shades of the rainbow…sporting matching pink headband with a butterfly, a fat bangle limply hanging on her wrist, tacky necklace of beads draped around her small neck and a large butterfly ring that looks more like a weapon than jewellery…the lipstick all 15 marvellous greasy colours is smeared everywhere but where it was  intended…her bloody lips…the rug must have been too boorish and in need of colouring because its also smeared with spots of greasy rainbow. 

the clothes I can’t fault only as I’m currently in my bikini trying to cool from the  heat…did I complain about the heat yet…let me reiterate its fucking hot.

Illusion

 

A belief in something that is in fact not true…I suffer from this affliction of reality misapprehension or bluntly named denial…like my denial that I’m in control…the puppet master is leaning against the desk grinning like the evil Cheshire cat that she is tugging at my strings…screeching something I keep raising the volume too drown out the banshee but it just adds to my headache…

She wants something obviously her narrowed eyes glaring into a scowl as if to say look pay attention because I don’t like coming down to your level…the words fly out of her small mouth like a high pitched bullet train I barely have time digest..this is what verbal dodge ball is like…it pains me giving a fuck it pains…my fake smile smears across my face its I wish I could kill you but fuck I’m to tired.

There's a line clearly separating winners and losers…I delude myself with my imaginary victories…its hardly a win when the battle is with an oompa loompa.

I'm the Maid

I consider myself smart...smart enough to realise how far down the VIP list I am...but apparently not smart enough to realise that I'm not even on the fucking list..so now am dejectedly sitting on chair by the desk...actually I'm slouching feet up on the desk because my 'give a fuck'..has standards and it has abandoned me in the wake of my sudden unpopularity...who I'm kidding I was never popular just tolerable..fuckless stewing in humid heat and without coffee...pretty much describes my life pent up hot and in need of stimulation...karma you've either been and worked your morbid punishment or my life is karma enough anymore would be considered cruel.   

perfectly describing my life...a disjointed chaos of terror

 The Evil Alice is small cherub like wench with the artistic flare of Picasso on a shit load of drugs..The Genius is William her selectively smart brother who is on a menstrual cycle of an evil Top Spin...together this sinister duo strives too destroy me...I say destroy their probably thinking my existence is dependent on my usefulness...right now I'm essential like the air or the ozone layer...that thing u dismiss because you believe in your own godly self importance...or is that just me...but you need nonetheless.

Well my usefulness lies in being an unpaid servant come jack of every fucking trade...and that's bloody vital when your incapable of wiping your own arse competently and I was so hoping on hiring them to take care of me in my old age you know so I can bring the cycle of torture full circle.

I take my servitude with grace

I've had my me time interrupted by the insensitive buggers who want lunch (already could have sworn I just threw a cereal box and milk at you)..that's another life skill lacking sandwich making and oven cooking..lets face it not many people actually cook...the old fashioned way like from scratch its a dying art (thank god for progress what I like to call human ingenuity fuelled by laziness)..most of us take out of the freezer and throw into the oven and proceed to forget about till its well done...but its never just right very rarely the universe is on my side..I've convinced them that's how home cooking is supposed to look like slightly burnt to a dark tan colour and crunchy.

Its not burnt its well done

 So anyway I've had to postpone my deep philosophical musing about the weapon of choice in the wake of a zombie apocalypse and what that says about me as a person..its a toss up between an axe and machine gun...I'm guessing the axe would say I have issues that can only be resolved through bloody gore...and the machine gun that I like the thought of doing more damage also I suck at aiming and it doesn't look like I need accuracy just pull and wave well from what I can of films...I probably should have both for when I run out of bullets a back up weapon is always good...I like how my delusional survival chances and my actual realistic survival chances are probably not in sync I blame TV for preparing me for nothing if not death.

In case of zombie apocalypse break out everything

Okay rudely interrupted forced to get up and its hot am in my bikini only because going naked is not an option unless your a nudist and no one is buying my new found Naturalism coinciding with the scorching summer season...slowly trekking in pink polka dot flip flops so my hardship can be heard through out the house...kitchen is hot hence the lost desire to cook anything that doesn't cook itself....even making beans on toast feels like big hassle because that involves too many steps...I want to lie down and die but that would be an unspoken invitation...declaring that the human trampoline is open for bruising ...the best thing about all of this is the cold breeze breathing from the freezer its slight but nice if they could only make walk in freezers for homes I'd hide in it.

Alice is a ninja master proficient in stealth ghost walking

I completely forget why I'm there until The Evil pops up from out of nowhere like a haunting that she is and starts to ask annoying rhetorical questions only she doesn't know what rhetorical is so am required to answer every mind numbing question with 'I don't know'...painful lesson learned ignorance is a grown ups best weapon against an avalanche of bombarding snowballs all filled with questions...trust me knowing something is the equivalent to grave digging and that grave is yours once dug you'll will not be buried in peace...I dig through the freezer for something I haven't burned in awhile...she's talking I'm nodding occasionally mixing in a word or two to maintain the illusion of interest...then The Genius decides to join in the snowball massacre...I'm surrounded by weapons but all I keep thinking is suicide looks painful and requires too much work...everything always boils down to the amount of work I will have to do...being an unpaid underling is draining enough I don't need extra work...I live to be tortured another day.