Squallyoaks living room
Though I’m an avid atheist, lately, I’m beginning to think that perhaps I’ve got it all wrong. Maybe God himself really does exist. Maybe he did create the Earth in seven days. Maybe the guy really does own a talking pet snake. And maybe, just maybe, he really fucking hates me.
Over the weekend my flatmates and I discovered that, for the fourth time in two years, our house has been plagued with an infestation of bed bugs. What are the odds? I guess the fact that basically all of our furniture was found on the street considerably ups the chances of an infestation, but still, four times in two years seems like a bit of a stretch. I mean, come on. It’s just getting embarrassing at this point.
The filthy, blood-sucking mites were brought in on a mattress that Hannah found discarded in the neighboring council estate. At first they were just in her room, but now the little cunts are slowly but surely making their way throughout the entire house. This is mostly thanks to Hannah’s horrible cat, Dog-Egg, whose fur acts as a mode of transport for the bugs. I hate that cat. I keep trying to poison it by sneakily leaving droplets of bleach in her food bowl, but the fucking animal is indescribable.
On the plus side, my room is one of the only that has yet to be infected. However, all this really means is that every night I have to share my bed with at least two other mangy housemates. My room feels like a fucking refugee camp. It sucks, really, because with so many cretins using my bed as a crash-pad, I can’t just lie around in my sweat pants watching Redtube and masturbating, which to be honest is all I really want to do in life. Nope- instead I have to curl up into a ball of sadness on the corner of my mattress, and fall asleep listening to Dom snore and Hannah rant about how she just found out what Auschwitz was, and contrary to what she previously heard, it’s actually not the name of a popular shopping mall that existed in World War II Germany.
In other news, I’m generating a plan to create a special strain of flu that only kills assholes. I intend to do this by first identifying the asshole gene, and then genetically modifying swine flu so that it only attacks those with said characteristics. I will start on this mission once I get over my hangover, which I estimate to be sometime on Thursday.
This afternoon I spent half an hour trying to suck up flies with the hose of the vacuum. I caught one.
I’m bored and lonely and hate everyone.