Crazy f***ing bitch

This week I am not happy. You’ll have to excuse the swearing and if it bothers you…go fuck yourself. Julie, crackpot cow that she is, has managed to really fuck me off. THIS is why I don’t get too involved with girls. They’re barking. And not like a forgetful Auntie, more in a Joseph Stalin way. She went all cruise missile on me because her ex-boyfriend thinks she is now living with me. Which she isn’t! Even. And so what? He’s her fucking ex! And from what I heard, he is to cunts what Roger Federer is to tennis. So bollocks.

I didn’t rise to it at the time, which was partly because I didn’t give a shit, but mainly due to the sixteenth of nasty red skunk I’d just consumed. It was only later that it started to gnaw away at my normally serene plateau of not-giving-a-shitness.

In true girly style of course, the poor cow’s mind somehow switched from fury to us a) going on holiday or b) getting a place together. I must have turned white as a sheet because her immediate reaction on telling me was “What?!” I tried to palm her off with a change of subject, then a grope and when they both failed I said “Hmm, well, it’s something to think about isn’t it. Maybe we should go away somewhere…” this being the lesser of two evils, I thought it the safe option. And anyway, saying we’ll do it and actually doing it are two completely different things.

So great, now we’re going on holiday. She’s started to look around and keeps emailing me with subjects like “isn’t this a great offer?” and “oooh this looks amazing”. Holidays with girlfriends are not my thing. I need to think of an escape route fast or I’m as dead as Greedo.

Also, I have just been informed by the television in the front room that my Gillette Mach 3 Power razor – which was, I thought, the top top top end of razors – has been superseded by something called the Fusion. Unbe-cocking-lievable.

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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Ex-crement

The people in my house are weird. Bar the odd one. We must have had our water tampered with or maybe we got a bad batch of Pringles but most of them seem pretty out of whack right now.

“The Julie Thing” is much as it ever was. She facilitates the emotional discharge I require and in the meantime, keeps my mind off the horror that is my career. Or lack of it. I’ve never worried about it you see, but, maybe it’s living with a bunch of whining whoopsies like that bellend Nick, I’ve started to think, maybe filing insurance documents and knocking one out in the toilets on a Wednesday morning isn’t for me.

Had a chat with Joey. It seems all of them have some kind of crisis they’re “facing up to”. What’s the matter with the tried tested “ignore it, it’ll go away” attitude. It’s worked for centuries and is far less boring to other people.

I mean, it used to be that you could say “how are you?” to someone and they would just say “fine!”. Ask someone that in this house and you’re odds on to get a fucking manifesto on their road to being a more rounded individual. Or some shit.

Joey and me talked about Julie, Claire, and their ex boyfriend. It made me feel pretty uneasy if I’m honest. A bit…unresolved. Obviously I’m in this for the sex, but still.

His phone rang while he was out of the room so I answered it. Except it wasn’t, it was actually Julie’s. And it was her ex Stephen. I may have spoken a little out of turn and enquired who the fuck he was. Hmm. My paranoia about all this is pretty annoying. I made a vow several years ago to avoid all this by treating girls like a farmer does pigs. Treat them well, dine on them, and forget them. I can’t be doing with all these “has she told him about me?” thoughts.

I want more of those “Do Jedi’s masturbate?” thoughts.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Horn Hill

I was “reprimanded" at work this week for getting in late. Well, I say late. I turned up at midday. That’s pretty late.

I’ve done it before of course but my section supervisor “Commandant Richard” commented in the strongest terms possible “Blimey Alan, did you oversleep?!”

He’s a divine pussy of a boss you see - hence his sarcastic nickname. Unable to have a go at staff, particularly me. I told him I was sorry and I’d stay late (in fact I left early).

It happened twice last week. The second time he saw me again (around 11am) and I pre-empted his clockwatching insipidness and said “Rich mate, I’m really sorry I’m late but my mum’s been on the phone all night cos her new boyfriend Ahmed lives in High Wycombe and she thinks he might get caught up in the whole terror plot thing.” He looked suitably amazed the gullible buffoon. Of course, it was a complete lie.

And why was I late in the first place? Julie.

I’ve been seeing more and more of the little sexpest. I’d say virtually every inch. We’ve enjoyed numerous bouts of sweaty, intense and thoroughly satisfying fucking over the past week. It seems my skills as a great listener are in fact best employed to Julie as a kind of sympathetic, fleshy love microphone. If you know what I mean.

I’m not too sure how it’s been going down with Claire, mind. All that messy business with her ex-boyfriend made me wonder if I was being used as some kind of device to get back into her books somehow (good or bad). I don't want to upset Claire.

Of course my paranoia, deepened when I smoke too much weed, is generally placated when I am laid out on her bed at her gaff in Herne Hill while she rides me like a Derby winner. In other words, what the fuck do I care?! I’m digging her more and more (insert funny aside here).

One slight cause for concern has been the damaging effect it has had on my progress on Pro Evolution 5 on my PS2. I should have finished my 20th season by now but I’ve fallen away and have hardly played it. I can’t help but feel I need to arrange some quality time with the black box of fun soon.

Maybe I’ll chuck a sicky.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Julie scrumptious

I phoned Julie at the weekend to strike while the iron’s hot and all that. Bingo blammo, she happily agreed to come over and “talk”. Obviously I was merely offering myself as a shoulder to cry on, a, if you will, helping hand at a time of confusion for the poor girl.

We, of course, needed privacy and so we talked in my room.

Some soft lighting, clean sheets, and vodka and tonics later and I had her pinned on all fours panting like a marathon runner, yelping for more. Marvellous fun. She was really game and it was sensational how she managed to convert from moping, troubled waif to cock-crazy pneumatic screw machine. Or something.

Living in a house full of relative strangers has its bonuses. Namely, fucking their friends.

Julie stayed over and I had another crack at her in the morning before she left just to make sure and leave my options open to see her again. Not sure I will, but she’s got a hard body and seems up for some good old fashioned no strings rutting with common types like me.

Selfish, calculated sex is underrated. It may not be the root of a lasting relationship, but what is? That seems to come from fear or coveting someone else’s ass. Cynical? Yes. But try watching your parents tear each other apart some time. That’ll take the shine off your romantic ideals.

Anyway, the rest of my weekend was spent recharging my batteries after my Julie fuckfest and smoking enough weed to kill a small horse. Oh, and considering how I could build a scale model Death Star.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Opportunity knocks

No contact with my execrable younger brother except a single word text message from him that rhymes with funt.

I presume that means he didn’t get into too much trouble or I’d have got it in the ear from Mum. Maybe I’ll buzz him. The usual way to get him back on side (not that he’s ever truly on side) is to have him over and get him stoned so he can blather on at 78prm about this and that until he gets down to a manageable 33 and passes out.

Claire’s mate Julie came round to see her and apologise about some shit. Claire was out so I let Julie pour her little heart out about getting it on with Claire’s ex. Messy old business as I’ve said before.

However, one man’s dog’s dinner is another man’s slap up nosh and I played the part of Understanding Alan very well. The trick is to listen, nod, use occasional physical contact (arm round shoulder is an obvious but effective device), exaggerated reactions (“Really?!”) to fain interest and then (because I am NOT doing this for my fucking well being thank you very fucking much) swoop in like a TIE-fighter for the kill and GET HER NUMBER! Apparently, according to the fittette Julie I am “a great listener”.

Oh yes. Understanding Alan, meet sly, calculating filthy minded Alan who is aiming a fleshy exocet right at your bits. Patience is the game. I know how to wait. I’ll play that one and see how it unfolds, in the meantime I can easily nourish myself on the pickings I get through work and the pub. I’m only saying (and doing) what everyone else is thinking. Or doing and not admitting to.

Don’t judge me.

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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Little Brother 0 Big Brother 1

So I have another item to add to my list of things I must NEVER do.

So far, at numbers one and two I have NEVER try and get off with your mate’s Mum at Christmas and NEVER try eating dental floss.

However, in at number three with a bullet is DON’T EVER fight your stupid little cunt younger brother in the frozen food section at Sainsbury’s. EVER.

It doesn’t really matter how it happened. Suffice to say, Michael, my 19 year-old verminesque brother is a lost cause. He is a selfish, ill-mannered, humourless twerp. The row started over nothing as usual, he just says the wrong things at the wrong time all the time. Anything from “your hair looks stupid” to “I kicked a cat the other day and I swear it barked”. He’s a cunt.

I bumped into him in the street and well, I’m not sure exactly how it happened but we ended up scuffling in Sainsbury’s after a shoving match and bad words. He hit me. Not very effectively. So, I did what every older brother should do, and smacked him square in the jaw fracturing my hand. I felt like a proper geezer for a bit until the searing pain in my fist took hold. Anyway, he fell stunned into the frozen food cabinets to the shocked yelps of the chav mummies and when I gathered my senses I saw the mall pigs heading our way.

Sticking vehemently to the code that has been our bond since we could talk, I walked calmly out of the store leaving Michael to fend for his fucking self. Needless to say, he got caught. Twat.

That night, I got pissed with Claire. She bleated on about her ex (not me, I don’t really think I count) and how he say he is a mess without her and keeps sending her texts and blah blah whatever. Nice girl, but she started crying (as they do) and I felt overcome with that awkward feeling like when your Mum talks to her friends about you while you're in the same room. Wasn’t sure where to look.

I’m not a complete bastard though and I do feel for the girl. Relationships can be sticky things. That’s why I stick to a strict diet of wanking and secretaries.

On a lighter note, Joey has bought some of the ugliest shoes I have ever seen. The sort you get on the NHS. Now, I know fashion isn’t everything, but it’s like he went into a shop and said, “give me the ugliest pair of cheese-resembling shoes you have”.

What a nobber.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Alan is away

I am away on a break. Back midweek. No time to explain.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey