Seriously, can’t someone else do it?! I am in the process of moving out of a house I have lived in for six years and it is taking so long! To some of you six years may not seem like a long time but for somebody my age in Galway City it really is shocking. People move around a lot in this little city.
Due to the incredible amount of work involved in moving all of my assorted crap I have not had the time to blog. I would walk down the street as people shouted “Yo Steve, where’s the new blog dahwg?!” I do apologise for my absence but I really have had no time. However, while moving all of my stuff I was complaining to myself about the work I was doing. Where better to spout my moaning than here for you…Steves People. Here are a few of my complaints…to my self.
“Uhh, Steve you have a lot of pointless shit. When did you buy a cigarette rolling machine?”
“Wow, everything in this fridge is gone off, or is butter or beer. Everything a growing boy needs.”
“Cleaning the inside of this cupboard is the least amount of fun I have ever had.”
“Correction. Draining the washing machine is the least fun I have ever had. We have a new champion.”
“Steve!! Why have you not cleaned out the microwave before now?! – I’m sorry Steve. An older boy told me to do it.”
“Don’t waste your expensive city bin bags on these free papers. Just throw all of them at the door of the Galway Advertiser offices. That’ll show those SOBs.”
“Wow…you have way too many shoes for a straight man.”
“See, if you had a girlfriend and you were less of a cunt maybe you would have some help.”
“Haha! You have two scarves! Fag!”
“Uhh…cleaning under the stairs. I hate myself and I want to die.”
“Fiddlesticks, curse these pesky grease stains. (Translation – Fuck off oven! I want you to die!)”
“Man, this is a actually a really nice house when it is completely empty and clean-ish.”
“Oh couch, we’ve had some good times you and I. Remember the time we did all that sleeping?”
“Does one wash a net curtain?”
“Yes, Steve. The attic is an unexplored new terrain but please climb down and continue packing. Take that cape and mask off! You are not Batman.”
“A nap, that sound productive. Napping on a pile of clothes is the best idea you have ever had…clown!”
“No, Steve! You cannot make your minions from work do the rest for you, they have lives. You are just an idiot with far too much free time.”
“Going for beer…seriously? You realise how dumb that idea is? What’s that?! Boobs? Let’s go. Throw that vacuum at the wall and haul ass to the pub.”
I have mental issues as you can see. Cleaning and clearing an entire house is absolutely no fun and it affected me. Dust has made it’s sexy way into my lungs and now I’m coughing like a 60 year old psychic at a carnival. Her prediction?…My painful death. Hussah for the shopkeep!
Prey for Mojo, (Not a typo)