Moving weekend in bits and pieces.

Friday night:

We're sitting around the dining table just shooting shit and he says to me:

You know I never thought the two of us would get to this point. It's utterly amazing that we've bypassed everything and come so far.

Saturday morning [no sleep and seven red bulls- two coffees and six cigarettes later:

Me: OMG. I have so much stuff. Why do I have so much stuff?

Friends[in a bizarrely simultaneous chorus]: You don't have any stuff! What stuff?? That's not stuff.

---

Mum: You have friends! Good friends!

Me: Why is that so amazing to you? I'm quite lovable.

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Friend: Holy Shit. Is that Sb? Why did you ask Sb to help you move?

Me: Can you fuck off? He IS NOT SB. Just because he is CALLED Sb. Doesn't make him Sb.

Friend: Hahahahahaha.. so your criteria needs to be that he's from China and needs to be called Sb? Do you go around poking asian boys til you find one?

Me: I'm going to stop talking to you now.

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Me: Is that a van? Omg. My mum hired a van instead of a truck.

Stupid Removalist: We need to do two trips!

Me: Oh really. You think so. I think I hate you and your stupid van.

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Saturday Afternoon [everything is done]:

I'm so tired that I'm microsleeping as I drive- I'm also swearing at all the bad drivers, of which there are many.

Me: *&^*&^*&$#%$

SB v3.0 [who is utterly baffled that I'm not the sweet cookie that I am at the office]: Why are you swearing so much? Why are you complaining?? Do you think it might be your driving...


Me: [rears up and kills him dead on the spot] I AM TIRED! I AM A GOOD DRIVER! AND IF YOU COULD DRIVE- YOU WOULD BE SWEARING TOO.

SB v3.0: .....

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Donnie: You have a hello kitty tattoo?? Since whennn?

Ms Smith: You have seen it 17,000 times and you ask her about it everytime.

Me: Yes, I have a hello kitty tattoo.

Donnie: Really?

Me: Yes.

[My mum decides to walk past]

Me: Also my mum doesn't know about it. And now I think she does!

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Saturday Night:

I'm exhausted and about to fall asleep. I hear a crashing noise from my teeny weeny carpark.

Stranger: Fuck! fuck! [Gets out of car] Fuck! Look what you did, you moron... [mumble, mumble]

It's a testament to how small the carpark is, that there's a crash on the first night.

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Sunday Morning:

[talking to Betty on the phone]

Me: I forgot to pull the ceiling stars down after all that talk! and now I have no chairs to take them down. So now not only is it going to be emotionally hard- it's going to be physically hard! Maybe Staph-face can give me a boost.

Betty: Haha.

[Later on]

Staph-face: [pulling the stars off by standing on a ladder, not my shoulders]Um. Mush? These stars are taking off your... paint..

Me: FUCK! they are! fuckfuckfuck!

Staph-face: How much were those stars?

Me: Probably ten dollars??

Staph-face: And how much is your bond?

Me: one thousand and something...

Staph-face: ten dollar stars for a thousand bucks.. nice.

Me: Shuttup. *Wail. It looks like my ceiling has the measles!! Stupid ceiling stars.


Sunday Night:

Me: It's so quiet. Why is it so quiet here? I can't hear anything! What if I screamed?? Would it be sucked up into a vacuum?? Am I talking to myself??