Stalker #2

Mr Undies told me a little while ago that he purposely kept from me and the other flatmate that he knew our ex-flattie who we HATED (and who on thinking back now, was the original Mr Undies). In fact, not just that he knew him, but that he was friends with him, regularly went drinking with him and purposely kept that knowledge from us because of his own sinister purposes.

Anyway, Mr Undies told me he was moving out with his (ahem, vomit) girlfriend. Cue screaming, eye scratching images of Mr and Mrs Undies shagging. VOMIT. Right... um... where was I? OK. So I interview a gazillion people for the room and make a decision without telling Flatmate #2 because he doesn't care anyway.

I ponder and eventually make my decision public on facebook who I have picked. Flatmate #2 and Mr Undies are not on my facebook (Mr Undies is in fact pre-emptively blocked in a story for another occasion). However, Mr Original Undies IS on my facebook.

A few hours after posting the details of the new flatmate, I see Mr Undies (and Mrs Undies! She exists!!) and he asks me about "the new girl". It doesn't click with me til later that he clearly has knowledge of my facebook stuff and I and my friends have been slagging him off this whole time. No wonder he's moving out. But either way I'm happy to be rid of him at long last.

I also surreptitiously act like a spy and take secret photos of Mr and Mrs Undies to show people who have yet to see them in person. Unfortunately Mrs Undies is too quick to be captured by camera, but Mr Undies has been. Woo.

Verbal Diarrhoea

Stress = dodgy flatmate doing a runner and trying to top herself. Stress = dodgier undies-man flatmate being super dodgy and revealing he is friends with a similarly crazy dodgy prior undies-man style flatmate, while not acknowledging that you are sobbing uncontrollably.

So now I have verbal diarhhoea. I can't stop. When someone says how are you innocently, I bombard them with that and more. I need to stop it.

I hate not hating, it's too weird

It's a little disconcerting when Undies pretty much does everything I want and pretty much disappears from my life except for the fortnightly annoying conversation.... I hate saying this but I don't hate him so much right now.

He was even texting as he walked past me on the street so didn't see me, while I was going all spy-like trying to see if I could blend in with the posters stuck on the building so he wouldn't talk to me. But it was perfect, his floppy wig and ugly clothes just totally bypass me. I think I need to buy a lotto ticket I've been so lucky without a sighting for a while and without an actual undies incident for over 2 weeks now.

Damn it Buu. Stoke up that hatred! Let it fester and get all pustule-y and go all gangrenous. Undies must still die.

Criminal Tangents

Shit. That post got lost cos of my stupid internet connection. Thanks alot Virgin.

Anyways blah blah blah Undies ramblings about his criminal past and how his human rights are being breached now because the airport won't let him through or something and he wants me to do something about it. I'm immediately thinking deportation! woohoo!! but I manage to continue to studiously ignore him and he finally prances off.

I have tried to google him and find out if I really can get him deported and for once he has lead me to fun! Google Crimestoppers and check out the wanted lists. OMG hours of enjoyment there! I must say there was pride welling up inside me that Australia has the absolutely most bogan looking wanted crims in the world. Totally awesome.

Pigdog fucker who pisses me off

Undies man returns home. I heard keys jangling but I couldn't get my shit together in time to bolt upstairs to my room. I was hope hope hoping it wasn't stupid Undies but unfortunately, it was.

I did everything I could to make him realise I was not interested in engaging in any form of communication. I did not look at him. I pretended to read the paper, while also being on facebook and texting Al. But the Pigdog Undies Bastard just kept yammering away. AND THEN even more arrogant pigdog of him asks me if I'm okay and coping because I haven't seen him for two weeks. AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR. I was all uuuummm bumhead I am surviving quite well without seeing you fuckbrain.

Then he goes on about how he fixed all these things in the flat and how we were all pathetic at fixing things and that was it okay that he was the man of the house who fixes things because he's so good at fixing things. FUCK OFF AND DIE FUCKING UNDIES MAN

More on pigdog #2

So my friend Al once commented that Mr G was the kind of guy that lurks at the bar at last call and lures the drunkest woman who can't fend off his lecherous hairy advances to his place. And can I say that is such a scarily accurate description that I can't believe I didn't think of it myself first.

Anyways, I hear a drunk lady come back with him the other night. Wow, I was feeling soooooo sorry for the wake up and walk of shame she'd have to do the next day. Then I immediately put in some ear plugs went la la la la la la la la la think nice pretty thoughts think nice pretty thoughts la la la la la la la la so that I didn't have the image of Mr G getting some action in my dreams.

He was a bit upset that none of us talked to him about his loud sex romp. So he starts to bring it up in conversation and I immediately bolt. Like bam, totally ran off, because that's the only way to stop him droning. Too bad for Miss D that she didn't realise this and he kept going "Oh Miss D, I had someone over this week. I had a party! Oh she was a WOMAN and we partied and I just want you to know Miss D that it's okay if you were listening to me shagging the comatose woman and oh gosh are you picturing me and my undies prancing sexily? Oh dear, I did not want you to picture me and my pigeon chest and white body gyrating and having sex. Oh Miss D, I will always tell you when I have a party so that if you don't join my party, you can imagine me having a sex party okay?"

He horrifies me.

Pigdog #2

So I have this flatmate who purposely prances about in undies. He is currently the bane of my existence.

But when you share a flat, and he is someone who has shared many a flat before, it's just common courtesy about how you act around your flatmates. I thought it was a given that you just don't wear your dirty little undies and purposely come out to the kitchen or lounge or other common areas when you hear someone talking then go all "Oh. Whoopsy daisy! Look at me, oh, I am in my undies. Oh that's embarrassing isn't it? Me here in my undies? Oh dear, I am in my undies, what a shock, my undies are just here for all to see" etc etc for about 5 minutes while I am doing anything I can to avoid eye contact including holding my empty bowl and pretending I am totally engrossed in eating the delicious invisible substance inside.

My other flatmate disagreed with me about how he was getting aroused out of the flashing. She thought that his yelling at her "Oh Miss D! You just stay upstairs there because oh gosh, look, I am in my undies again. It's me Mr G and I'm in my undies in the kitchen so you just stay away and don't think about me in my undies okay? Did you get that Miss D? Do not think of me and my pigeon chest in my dirty grey undies as I prance about the house touching my body and undies to all these common areas you will also soon touch? Oh gosh isn't it awkward that I am in my undies and you exist in this world where I prance around in my undies. Undies, undies, undies!"

To her, this meant that he was warning her and he was being all polite about it. To me, it's him trying to plant the imagery of him in undies in her head being all ugly attention seeker that he is. So that then he can talk about him in undies rubbing his crotch all over our possessions or something. EW.

But now she finally agrees with me after he purposely came out and did his little spiel flashing himself to her workmate who had come for a visit. This was after I had asked him not to come out again becuse we had guests.

I wish I'd told him to fuck off earlier. Fuck off Mr G and your bad bouffant hair.

I lick my cheese

Stay away from my cheese and my ice cream please. I also like my shoes to be unworn and borrowed handbags returned. Also would be extremely appreciated when you steal my car to fill up the petrol.

Oh and you over there, put some pants on.

Thanks.