Demons in my bathroom

So I had my first spider experience here in England. In fact, it was my first spider experience in quite a while... possibly for more than 4 months.

I was getting ready to take a shower, and I do all the usual, take my shirt off and then go halfway in and reach to turn the water on. Come out, prepare everything for my afterbath, then I take my shorts off and stuff, and I'm about to go in when I notice something odd in the shower curtain. It moved? Nah, just the water. No, wait, there's something that doesn't belong there...

...Yes there is! There's a fucking spider there! Not the biggest one ever (the biggest and most frightening one will always be the one in Mr. Leonard's class), but its legs were bloody long. I immediatly pull away and then freeze. Think. Gotta kill it. How? It's a shower curtain, I can't throw anything else it'll come attack me. Hmm... think. Wait, it moves to the other side of the curtain... damn.

Right, so what's my plan? Just push the curtain towards the water and hope it drowns. Not the smartest, but what do you expect an arachnophobe like myself to do? So I do that for like 20 mins, not exagerating, to make sure it dies, while at the same time looking very carefully to make sure it doesn't just come out and attack me. By the time I finish with the job I'm genuinely shaking with fear. But it must be dead now, no spider is water proof (for the exception of those that are, but you don't find those in your bathroom). So it takes me 5 minutes to gather up enough courage to go in the shower. Slowly at first but then I decide to do it fast in case the creature of satan is still alive. I look around quickly and see nothing... yes! It's dead! Then look around again to make sure and it's there on the extreme right of the curtain staring at me. A rush of panic hits me. What the fuck am I supposed to do when I'm trapped in the smallest shower in the world with a big spider looking evily at me? First idea I get: quickly swing the curtain to the right and smash it with my soap holder. I'm proud to say I was brave enough to actually do that... so I hit it from top to bottom over and over again for at least 10 minutes (although I'm pretty sure I went on for more than 15 mins, but I don't know... didn't have a watch, and even if I did I wouldn't be checking it and risking the freedom of the freak) and finally stop. It MUST be dead by now. But it did survive the water... but I've been hammering it for a while, it can't take that much, can it?

Well, I didn't feel like risking it. I took one of the quickest showers of my life, with the curtain open and the door open (I had left it open in case something happened to my my flatmates could find me). After that ridiculously quick shower, I dash out of there, all wet and clumsily dry myself (while freezing to death) and put on my boxers to just run to my room. I stay there for a while, shaking with fear (and cold).

A very bad, traumatic if you like, experience. I'm shivering as I write this, and I couldn't shower for two days just because I couldn't bring myself to go in the bathroom again (to make it clear, our bathroom is divided in two: the actual bathroom and then sinks and a toilet). For the next few days I showered with the curtain partially open, and very careful to check everywhere for monsters. Even now, relatively a long time after it happened, I don't stretch the curtain completely just in case... I know it won't be there, but I might find the remains, who knows. I'm positive that the lady cleans that, but I don't want to take any risks. Yes, that's how arachnophobic I am.

Valencia-Caracas, Caracas-Paris, Paris-Newcastle

So this is a story from when I was coming back to England from my my Christmas holiday in Venezuela.

First of all, I was in the airport ages before my plane was scheduled to leave (you all know it's because the bridge fell... that's right, "aqui no pasa nada!") and I couldn't check in until about 4 hours after I had arrived, so I decided to just exploit the wireless internet connection and kill time. So when I check, it's 30 mins before they open, so I shut everything down and start to make my way and what do I see? Huge queues. But not for mine, of course, because it's still "early". Well, turns out one of those huge queues was indeed for my flight. So the pajuo of me had to make a huge queue when I had been there for 3:30 before.

Anyway, I get these bitches in front of me. I mean, hot bitches. And what are they talking about? Their breast implants. And what are they doing? Touching them and moving them around and looking all bitchy and hot. I was shocked, and I was convinced I had to be in one of those hidden camera shows. But well, I wasn't complaining.

Because of staring for so long at their breasts (I mean, them!) I decide to give it a break as they probably had seen that I had two eyes on them. So I turn around and start scouting the place. Who's behind me? A gay bloke. An old gay bloke. How do I know he's gay? Not only because he's really well (and gaily) dressed, and because he's speaking in a very female tone of voice... but because he's calling the person on the other side of the phone "mi amor". Well, that hardly makes someone gay, does it? Well, when the person on the other side is a guy it does. How do I know it was a guy? Because he said his name at the end, and it was a masculine name... not something like Alex that can go either way, but a really masculine name, like Victor. I don't remember exactly, but I do know I immediatly turned around and started spying on the bitches again.

At that point I was sure I was in a hidden camera show... what where the odds of being caught in the two extremes? Hot bitchy women in front of me and a really gay guy behind me... not that there's anything wrong with that!!!

A quick shag

So last night a couple of my flatmates and I were watching The Sixth Sense, and all of a sudden the Irish guy comes in with his girlfriend along with another flatmate (let's call him N). N goes into his room for a good night's sleep (which is one of the two that have direct access the the common room... the other one is mine) and Irish and Irishee go to Irish's bedroom. We keep on watching the film.

Then all of a sudden one of the girls from the flats from above comes into our flat and, without saying anything, sneaks into N's room. Then we hear gigling and we just concentrate on the movie, even though it's blatantly obvious what's going on in there. We're sort of shocked because we all asumed she had come down to talk to her friend (Irishee) but no, she came down with the purpose of satisfaction.

She never comes out. Then at 5am when the film is over we all retreat to our rooms, and I'm in mine but I can hear everything that's going on outside, and I hear his door open, close, and then the main door open and close. Ah, the walk of shame.

So when you come to think of it, it wasn't that quick of a shag... around an hour. They might both be proud of it, but I'm sure his girlfriend won't be very happy about that.

So how did he manage to get lucky (because that was freaking lucky... a girl sneaked into his room for a shag!) we won't know... but I'm hoping that tonight it'll be my turn. I'm definitely leaving my door unlocked.

Sore Arses

So something did actually happen today, so I guess I'll leave some of the old stuff for later. What a great way to start... or restart!

Anyway, it turns out my flatmates spent 8 hours watching the telly today (oh, yeah, we got a TV license, going against everything we hold dear and believe in (so in my case nothing...) but oh, well, it wasn't much overall). By the time one of them stood up he emphasized how he couldn't feel his arse. Which is funny, because when he did stand up you could see that he had been sitting on another of my flatmate's glasses, to which he says "Oh, that is where they've been... I've been looking for them for hours!" and, of course, the glasses were shattered because that flatmate had to be the rugby player (aka a very big guy). It was funny how he had been sitting on them for quite a long time and never felt a thing. No wonder he had a sore arse. But it was my other flatmate who definitely ended up with a numb butt. He ended up watching the telly for over ten hours... now that's productivity. He didn't finish watching the film were were watching because he thought it'd be a good idea to get some sleep... and also because the film had been going on for more than two hours and there was still no plot nor anything, just this guy raping the love of his life (yep, you read it right). As soon as he got up and left, the plot kicked in and then later a huge twist occurred... and as it turns out it was a very good film. But, of course, he missed it... unless he managed to make out the whole thing when he came out about 20 minutes later to tell me he had taken the coldest shower ever... yeah, he was pissed. But could you blame him? As he said it himself, he had started to watch the telly at four in the afternoon, and he had been drinking all the way to the end. Say he takes 20 minutes to finish a beer... that's a lot of alcohol!

I don't think anything beats what another flatmate and I did the day before... we managed to sit through the whole Hannibal trilogy all in one go... and we started at 1am. Yep, productive days at the uni indeed.

Bumming Back

Right, so I've taken quite a long vacation from writing in this thing... which I have found pretty enlightening (yeah, right). I think I'm ready for a return now, ready to be cruel and mean and everything that I used to be. I was having a crisis of faith (although it wasn't a crisis of faith) but now I'm back... I hope for my sake.

I'm not sure how this is gonna work exactly. I'm guessing I'll write whenever something interesting comes up instead of trying to make something funny out of nothing every day. That sounds like a sensible thing to do, doesn't it?

As for the moment being, I do have some things that have happened since I got back here to Newcastle. Actually, lots of things have happened (sort of) and I can only remember a few... but they must be the best ones if I do remember them (ha, that's what you'd think). So well, what I was saying was that I'll put up one of the old ones every day until I run out of them. If something memorable happens while I'm still recounting old tales I'll postpone the old one and write about the new one.

Well, I'll start tomorrow, I think I've done too much for today. Yes, I'm still on vacations, so this is hard work. I've been eating junk food, staying in bed until 5pm and playing Footy Manager all the time... I told you I was still in vacations. That'll be over in less than a week, so I have to take advantage of it while I can. I have to be more productive though... that's why I'm starting on the blog again lol.

Ah, laters,

The Bum