So I keep wanting to write an entry about something other than how fucking disgusting my house is. You know, just to change things up a bit. Like for example last week I got beaten up by a one legged man in a wheelchair to an audience of about thirty drag queens. That was interesting. I would have loved to tell you all about that. But just when I thought I’d found the perfect window of opportunity, someone went and left a skinned, one-eyed goats head mounted on a stick outside my room. Obviously.
I woke up this morning feeling deathly hungover. I emerged from my room to find the hideous, bald skull floating waist height in front of me. Its tongue was hanging from its mouth and a thick clear film was dripping from its chin. Unaware, I walked straight into the terrifying object, knocking it onto the floor and nearly stepping on it. Thankfully I avoided it by a few inches, instead landing in a mysterious congealed goo, which then stuck to the bottom of my foot. Gross. Still, not as utterly disgusting as it would have been to crush the hairless goat skull with my heal. No one has fessed up to who put it there, but everyone seems to find the story downright hilarious.
I’m on the edge. I can’t deal with this fucking house anymore. There are fourteen of us living here at the moment. The Romanian family has gone though, which I guess is a step in the right direction. Ungrateful, rag-wearing bastards. We do have a few new house members though—all of which are non-human. Two of them are hamsters. Hannah bought them a couple weeks ago, and already one of them escaped. It’s now running free somewhere inside the house. No one can find it. God knows how it got out because it only has three legs. The newest house member, though, is Kerri’s new pet, Suicide. It’s a fire hydrant. She found it on the street when she was on loads of drugs and “felt a connection with it,” so she brought it home. I found her in the living room petting it the next morning. When I asked her what she was doing she just looked at me with her fire-red, beady devil eyes half rolled back in her skull and growled, “Meet Suicide.” The following day I threw the fire hydrant out the back window in a desperate attempt to pretend it never happened. It was back in the living room a couple hours later. Suicide is now part of all of our lives.
On a more exciting note, I took acid the first time. It was great. I can’t remember much, but apparently I peed on the floor of someone’s house party and then began reciting chat-up lines to a wall. Good times. It’s also very sunny in London at the moment, which I think is keeping me sane. At least for now anyway.