You’re up to your neck in what you’ve convinced yourself to be organized chaos but is in fact is an apartment that has suffered neglect. You blame this on your long office hours, late home arrivals and necessary cable TV binging. It’s not your fault that your bachelor pad looks like a pigsty – and that’s describing it lightly. The deadly combo of unwashed dishes, laundry heaps, Addams family-sized cobwebs and dust mites would drive any sane person to do what you should have done months ago – hire the services of a professional cleaner. Little do you know that you’re in for more than a clean sweep.
Your girlfriend recommends a young man in his twenties who’s got a couple of cleaning gigs up his belt. He’s like Rambo in this game, armed with every germ-killing, dirt scooping equipment. He knows his onions and he is going to make your onions cry. In next to no time you can see a remarkable transformation – your nostrils have been released from the captivity of stale leftovers. You’re now living la vida loca – well it’s more like lavendar loca the way the cleaner throws you into a sneeze fest on day one. After you reprimand him gently he moderates his commando urges and eases off the cleaning spray trigger. Your home is inviting and neither you nor your girlfriend has any complaints. If only you decided not to watch that disturbing clip caught on your spy camera two days later.
It would have been better if you caught him stealing one of your valuables. You could even stomach him bringing one of his girlfriends into your bed (and of course send him packing). But he was rummaging in a place he shouldn’t have been – your dirty laundry. You watch in horror as he sorts through your office shirts, gym shorts, socks and then picks up one of your boxers. He stares at them in awe like a map discovered by Indiana Jones. You notice you’re getting uneasy as you continue to watch then suddenly the video starts buffering – fucking internet! Why at this moment? You know you shouldn’t continue watching but you can’t help yourself.
You’re back online and you see him bury his face in that underwear. What’s worse is that you can see him taking a deep, long sniff. ‘What in Tommy Hilfiger briefs is going on here?’, you ask yourself. It doesn’t end there. He cuts to the bathroom with his new ‘face mask’ and your spy camera is out of focus. Fuck! Your mind is playing tricks on you. You’ve seen enough and need to address this clusterfuck. You contemplate calling your girlfriend who referred him but you can’t gather the words. How do you frame the accusation? What crime has been committed? You believe ‘invasion of privacy’ doesn’t do justice to the matter. You worry that this could somehow disrupt your relationship so maybe it’s best to handle this man to man.
(To be continued)
…is another man’s treasure? Well I’ve got a Nokia 7900 Prism that says ‘NO!’ – thats if you want to keep beating the life out of it everytime it freezes when a message comes through it. I can vaguely remember how I strolled into the Nokia shop barely a year ago, coughed out N70,000 (which is over £200 or over $300) and was one of the ‘privileged’ few to be pouncing around town with a phone which got quite a lot of ‘Ooh! Nice phone!’, ‘It’s unique!’, ‘I haven’t seen this before!’, (Hindsight – thanks to you gawkers I didnt return the phone sooner to get a refund).
Women – a mystery to some, a weakness to many (men and lesbians, that is). I too have fallen prey to the clutches of the female species. I vaguely remember one particular woman who locked me down for about 9months. I felt trapped. I wanted to break free but at the same time I wanted to stay. I was so confused that I had to have a third party separate us. I actually cried my eyes out but today we’re still in touch and on good terms.
Ladies and Gentlemen, an invasion is upon us! In the 21st century a new evil has befallen planet earth. The shape-shifting creatures of the damned lurk into your very households whilst you watch the news, sip your tea, and pick your nose. These venemous scum leach unto the married couples of our time and cause havoc and destruction in a systemmatic manner. They are more commonly known as… Homewreckers
Growing up (with a relatively unhealthy addiction to TV) I was under the strange impression that ALL chinese men could fight martial arts – I mean right from toddlers the moment they could walk, all the way to old timers right before they needed hip replacements. Even a fat China man who couldn’t bend over to touch his toes could still claim to have a black belt in Karate, Judo, Taekwundo and (after his nightshifts as a club bouncer) is a part-time Ninja assassin…and you wouldn’t want to stick around to find out. Well actually who am I kidding – a fat China man doesn’t need martial arts knowledge…there’s always the Sumo option i.e. can’t fight ’em, sit on ’em.
What’s in a kiss? Saliva? Sure! That’s if it’s a wet kiss. But if your partner has gum problems or uses a very soft toothbrush then there’s probably some blood to go with that saliva (Urgh!). If you’ve just had dinner before that kiss then there’s probably a whole bunch of food particles swimming through a bloody saliva stream all the way down your oesophagus (okay, stay with me here). If your partner has protruding teeth then there are probably some braces to go with that slimy blood pool. Thinking about dry-kissing instead, eh? I don’t blame you.
