Self portrait by Matthew Stone
Writing this blog has become the bane of my existence. Along with being the foremost reason my ex boyfriend and I broke up, it has continued to alienate both my friends and family ever since I started writing it two years ago. My friends hate me. My ex boyfriend hates me. My parents definitely hate me. I’m beginning to wonder whether it’s all really worth it. But, as I’ve said before, I don’t write with the intention of hurting my family and friends. I do it to trick strangers into thinking my life is more interesting than it actually is. Why does no one understand this?
So, as a result of two years spent exploiting the lives of those closest to me for my own personal gain, my friends and housemates are now retaliating by forbidding me from ever writing about them on my blog again. The nerve! As you can probably guess, this came as quite a shock to me. I mean, what do they care if I tell the world about their sexual defects, their strange perversions, and their revolting daily habits? It’s funny. Also, I’m confused about how they even found out about my blog in the first place, because I swear most of them can’t even read.
But anyway, the sad fact is I’m no longer allowed to name names when referring to the personal details of anyone’s life but my own. LAME. But whatever… if you try hard enough you can probably guess who I’m talking about anyway.
So, to update you on what’s been going on, everyone is out of control.
Of the ten people I live with, over the past week one has started dealing drugs, one reached spiritual enlightenment on DMT, and one has become a prostitute. Eww to all of the above.
One of my loser squat friends is dating a guy who’s into fucking her in the ass with a dildo. She came home last night wasted and slurred, “I’ve just had a giant black dildo up my ass for two hours. I swear my asshole no longer closes.”
On Saturday I got wasted on acid at a cyber trance rave in a forest outside London. Just about everyone had neon plastic hair. Lots of people eating dirt like it was fairy dust. Lots of people bouncing giant balls like it was there aspiration in life. That kind of vibe. While there I had a threesome with two of my housemates. Normally it’s probably a bad idea to sleep with the people you live with, but since all of us are just as sexually retarded as each other, it just seems to come with the territory. Sex on acid is weird.
Dominic has gone insane and is now refusing to eat anything except for cheese with more cheese melted on top of it. When I asked him why on Earth he insists on doing this, he replied, “What, you don’t cheese your cheese? I can never eat cheese unless I put more cheese on top of it first.” Random.
Bunny spends everyday writing weird fan fiction about Friends. He’s obsessed. Most of the time he won’t let me read what he writes, but the other day I looked at his computer while he was asleep, and seriously, that shit is fucked up. The few stories I read included Phoebe OD’ing on ketamine, Ross getting a sex change to look like Naomi Watts, and Monica being gang raped. I think Bunny might be retarded but I’m not sure.
A homeless crackhead broke into our house last Thursday. He climbed in through the kitchen window and started rummaging through our cabinets, looking for things to steal. He tried to take Hannah’s bike, but Darren caught him as he was leaving and the grabbed it back off of him. On the way out the crackhead said, “You really should clean this house, you know. It’s disgusting in here.” New low.
We are being evicted from our squat (commonly referred to a Squallyoaks 2) in two days, and have yet to find somewhere else to live. Fuck my life.