Week Sixteen

Saturday 26th April

Get up bright and early and head to Fran's for 9am, as she has kindly offered to let me use her wireless intyweb for the day. Sit out on the balcony for a spot of breakfast and I notice that my hayfever symptoms are even worse than usual, I mean the snot factory production line are clearly doing some overtime. Have to bring a roll of toilet roll out with me and soon enough, its gone and I'm surrounded by little crumpled up balls of disgustingness. What the hell is wrong with me? I've been taking the Flixonase religiously, it must have built up in my system by now!

Head inside and start eking out the structure of my Machiavelli essay, ie watching America's Next Top Model online. I'm not enjoying it today though, because those old familiar feelings are creeping back over me; that pain in the top of my head, aches and pains all over, even the hairs on my arms hurt. It is quickly becoming clear that it's not the hayfever that's bothering me, oh no.

Fran looks up and nearly falls off the chair "You look like shit!" I'm just sitting there "is this for real? Is this for FUCKING real? Sick AGAIN?!" This is becoming a friggin joke. Im eating really well and looking after the bod like, give me a break! I stumble home (might puke on the bus) and fall into the bed, it even hurts to lie there. Now I'm really just wrecked. And not just my poor little sick bod, but my head is wrecked as well. Seriously like, my spirit is just crushed. I'm tired and I'm working hard and I have other stuff going on and I just cant take much more of anything, to be honest. I lie there and have a little cry for meself. Sure God love me. Then Roommate walks in and has a freak out when she sees the state of me, and I must say I was in a right state alright. Then she minds me for the night. I loves her so I does.

Later on my internet husband rings me. I'm like ah me oul segooshta ringing me up to look after me. How are you he says? Im dying sick AGAIN I say and Im just about to say (read: whinge) about how worn down I am and how I could do with a telephonic mind when he cuts across me and goes "yeah Im not feeling so great myself, Im wrecked blah blah whinge whinge" Well I looked down on the ground, and sure enough, there was my jaw. Now come on, I felt like saying, come the fuck on like. And I wouldnt mind, but thats his permanent state of being, and here I am ACTUALLY teetering on the brink of death and I dont get a fuckin look in. It was so bad it was actually funny. For the rest of the conversation I was like "yeah, yeah, oh yeah, ok bye now" in disbelief. I come to the conclusion that there is no doubt about it, he must be a feral child. Although being raised by wolves is still no excuse for being such a gobdaw.

Sunday 27th April

Lie in bed, unable to move. Try to stand up a few times but its all a bit too wobbly yet and as a result have to lie in bed bursting for a pee for hours. My condition is not helped by the annoyingness of Landlady/Bitch-Faced Whore. She enters the room 47 times, to tell me various things like "I haven't pooed in 5 days" and "I found 2 dead spiders in the kitchen". Oh good Jesus Christ I wish she would just FUCK OFF out of the house and get a life for herself. She is driving me to Chinois. Those two spiders probably committed suicide after being in the kitchen with her for over 5 mins. And I don't fuckin blame them!

Monday 28th April

Head back to Fran’s and actually start doing some work on my essay. Go home for dinner and B-FW casually mentions while I have a forkful of pasta in my mouth “Oh well Im keeping your deposit until next year, just to make sure that all your bills are covered.” And Im like “I cant even look you in your stupid ignorant face you twat” so I just mutter “yeah yeah” not really listening, and go on eating my dinner and enjoying some Walker Texas Ranger. It is only lying in bed that night that the realization of what she is trying to do (rob us blind) finally hits me.

Shit.

Tuesday 29th April

Back to Fran’s today where she jumps on the knitting bandwagon. Current population:me and Fran.

Wednesday 30th April

Myself and Roomate have an in-depth discussion about the deposit situation and I tell B-FW that there will be no holding of deposits, oh no. She protests that that’s the done thing over here (lies). I tell her it isn’t that I don’t trust her (lies) but I’d rather sort out the bills before I go. I think the message is getting through that the gravy train is over – and I aint takin no more of her shizzle. She tells me she will discuss it with “Papa”. She cant even wipe her arse without discussing it with Papa first. God she is such a weirdo. I KNEW I should've moved out when I found her takin a shit with the door open.

Friday 2nd May

Did some interwebbing yesterday in Fran’s. Today head to Lush with Roommate to arm ourselves to the gills with lovely smellies to numb the pain of sharing an apartment with a fucking mental case. Tra la la headed to the park and lazed in the grass, enjoying our last few weeks together. How will I go on without her? Her Bedtime Radio Antics, Continuous Bed Kicking and Super Sonic Flip-Flops have become as soothing as whale song to me. I can't be parted from her! I won't do it!

A good week for the Diet as I could only eat solid foods for 5 out of the 7 days, so I didn't do the "Big Shop", thus saving myself a fortune in Chinois. Dark clouds could be looming on the budgetary horizon though if Bitch-Faced Whore goes any further with her money-grabbing. As amusing as her psychosis is to myself and Roommate, at times she really makes me want to drink a weedkiller cocktail. But through a twirly straw. Or one of those beer hats. You'd need that. Lighten the mood a bit, like.