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This is where you stick random tidbits of information about yourself.
Age 23, living in sin in Twickenham with Cheesy
Likes
Movies
Books
Writing
Theatre
Hugs
Kittens
Chess
Scrabble (mostly beating Cheesy's butt)
Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Dislikes
Vegetables
Arguments
Cleaning
Trashy TV
Pretensions
Public Transport
Pets
Rabbits-Bambi, Fern, Sooty, Pippa-all deceased
Dog-Sammy-deceased :(
Fish-CatFlap-recently (and finally!) deceased
Cat-Tiggy-still scratching
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Technically Rachel
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Monday, April 19, 2004
My my, it's certainly quiet out there. I'm not complaining (well, not very loudly), but I do miss having things to read. Is the blog craze dying out? Saying that, my own blog time is limited now. I'm in the cursed position of my computer screen being in full view of the boss, so no sneaky blogging for me during my working hours. And at home I have to fight with Cheesy for computer access - you try getting a smelly boy to leave Splintercell alone for the evening. Not so easy. This week is quiet in that respect too - since the boy is off doing theatre things and beings very busy, tired, but in a happy way, so it's all good. Ah! A moth just flew in my face.
The flat's a mess. I hate cleaning. I blame my parents for trying to force me to be tidy as a child - I think it bred in me a pure stubborness to be messy. And the boy is also very messy too. Nearly as much as me.
Note from Cheesy's Book - Fool girls into thinking you're tidy for long term luvin
When I first knew him (pre-smoochies), he expressed a strong desire for tidyness and a constant promptness to washing up. Being in the early stages of idealised love and lust, I ignored the fact that my messiness would probably be incompatible with his tidyness, and instead focussed on what an ideal pairing we were, that he could be the tidy to my mess. Somewhere between coy flirtations and downright dirty dating the boy transformed into the messy git I know and love today. Together, we are a health hazard. We both have too much stuff, hate washing up, routinely forget the use of coat hangers, and have allowed our hoover to grow musty. Although he is better at finding things I've lost than I am - I ransack the place in a heated temper whereas he calmly browses the room and spots the missing item in an instant (as per this morning). This can be silmultaneously beneficial and irritating - depending how pre my menstruals are.
But yeah - point is, messy flat, and I have no desire whatsoever to tidy it. Gross.
And on a side note, thanks to a new revelation today from a certain other, I have involuntarily become a fag-hag for the fourth time. I don't mind, but I worry about getting a rep.
What's weirder about this, is that three of these guys have later admitted that they fancied me before they came out. In a dating kind of way. Now, I either turn them off the female sex, or (more favourably I feel) I'm a gay icon. Yes, gay icon - we'll go with that.
Honestly, I think I've lost my gaydar. And I used to kick Tall Boy's ass in that arena - God knows what his is like now - it's a wonder he ever got laid. ;)
8:48 pm
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