Friday, May 21, 2010
#22 HELL ON EARTH: MY SCUMMY LIFE IN THE SUBURBS
I've made a really big mistake. HUGE.
I recently decided, against all better judgement, to move out of the city circle. After years of sloshing about Surry Hills and adjacent city suburbs, the opportunity arose to move into that Holy Grail of Sydney rental real estate: The hundred dollar a week room.
As a gentleman who aspires to many things of greatness, all of which include several years of slaving away with little to no pay (styling, writing, medicine....) the idea of shaving at least a hundred bucks from my living expenses weekly was an attractive one. "Great!" i thought. "I can work less, and concentrate on those things that I'm passionate about, far from the stress of paying absorbitant rent!".
The cruel reality of inner-outer suburban living is somewhat different to the money-soaked nirvana I imagined. With not a slither of a honeymoon period remaining, and a profound feeling of dread and doom each time I walk into "my house" allow me to describe the living situation I've found myself in:
THE SUBURB: ST PETERS, SYDNEYS "INNER" WEST:
In a really mean coincidence, my new suburb shares its name with the New Zealand boarding school I went to. Unfortunatley for me, there are no slightly curious Dairy Farmer offspring to perve at on the way to the showers after saturday rugby practise. From what I can gather, the only people that live here are Pakistani immigrants and homophobic drunk-driving tradesman. And not the hot kind.
Just to make things that little bit more disgusting, 2mins walk from the house is this:
That's right. A fucking 24hour McDonalds and KFC. You can actually smell the kentucky fried from my front door, and lord knows my skin is going to pay for all those booze-eats at 4am.
Seven bedrooms. Eight flatmates. One bathroom. No Lounge. A bong on the kitchen table. Every single edible thing in the house is labelled in texter with someones name, even the fucking TEABAGS...
The gracious entrance:
the "buzzy" kitchen:
1. The Leaseholder from the central coast:
He has the most annoying voice I've ever heard in my life. At first I thought he was like seriously at least 30, but apparently he's only 24. His Lebanese mother cooks him three weeks worth of food which he keeps frozen so he never has to ever make a fresh meal. It's foul. Oh, and sometimes he waddles around the house naked.
2. The hairy guy:
I still don't know his name and I've lived here a month. He smokes loads of "bush" whatever the hell that means, and says "man" a lot.
3. The HSC student:
She's just turned 18, is doing her last year in high school and IS PREGNANT. No Jokes.
4. The boy from Wollongong:
I do not know a damn thing about him, other than he kinda looks like he has down-syndrome and he studies something and is sharing his room with a guy that used to have his own room in the house, has been kicked out for not paying rent but cannot move till he gets his bond back, which the leaseholder is withholding.
5. The long-locked doofer:
He has legally changed his name to "Meow". He's really into bondage, and he had a foursome with the leaseholder and two skanks. He used to have a pet snake.
6.&7. The doofer couple:
By far the most likeable of the bunch. He has really orange-bleached hair and is an acid dealer. She has dreadlocks. They are both on the dole, and from what I can see take trips daily, and i'm not even exaggerating. They're dead nice but.
All the flatemates have been nothing but sweet to me. It's just well, without trying to be a total snobby cunt.....THESE PEOPLE ARE ON A DIFFERENT LEVEL if you know what I mean.
Everytime my rent payment of a simple Hunge goes out, i'm loving it sick. But I can't live like this. I want out. Gimme a one or two well-groomed, tastefully dressed, employed flatmates to share a falling apart, overpriced freezing fucking Surry Hills Terrace with. I want my life back.