Kate, Mish, and cars that shit themselves

Recently Mish had a bit of car trouble. Basically the engine shat the bed and stopped making her van move. Now when engines stop making vans move you be assured that things are about to get costly. Trying to avoid the issue for a while didn’t help so eventually Mish took it to a mechanic. The mechanic said something really technical like, it’s fucked, it may last a year, it may last one day, it’s anyone’s guess really. But to fix will cost more than a few magic beans. To Mish, this translated to, drive away and hope for the best YAY! I believe the best lasted about 45 minutes until the engine started smoking. Realising that this probably wasn’t good, and the wreckers had previously declined the addition of her van to there yard, to the tip Mish went! Luckily she made it before the van spontaneously combusted. The tip was closed, but she left it outside with a note attached. They called her the next day to confirm that they don’t usually take cars, but occasionally it happens and it costs a mere $100 to dispose of. I believe the cheque is currently in the post.

 

So after Mish’s success with the van, I decided to take my car in for a service after I too had avoided it for as long as humanly possible. More or less I went to the cheapest place I could find. All went well, basic service for $149, awesome. However since then my car has been making making some strange noises. I am fairly certain that during REM sleep Freddy Krueger appeared in my dream and using my ninja skills I managed to trap him in the muffler in my car. Now the fucker wants out however and it’s causing me a fairly large degree of annoyance. My muffler is not much better and has split in the struggle to contain Freddy. I am fairly confident I can resolve both the noise issue and also keep that cunt in the muffler with good old fashioned duct tape. Sure I could go to the mechanic and have it replace but that would be admitting defeat! And did I mention the $$$$$???

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

I have been super quite. Like a very tiny, tiny mouse, drunk in a tiny house made of cheese and slightly soaked in shiraz.

The Canadian in the office has confirmed my worst fear. We are in a 5 weekend pay cycle. That means 5 weekends in which to budget and fail dismally. Usually by weekend 2. This has forced me to find other ways to escape reality and my self inflicted financial state of ruin. (can you say first world problems?)

Here are some free things I have been doing.

I have been watching SEASONS of Heartbreak High. And when I say SEASONS, I mean I started at season 1 episode 1 and I have nearly finished season 6. What can I say? I love Anita and Drazic! This was, of course before Drazic had that car accident and his face because what is commonly referred to as bung eyed. Its making me yearn for the 90’s big time. Remember when your school mates used to unpick the seam on there jeans up to the knee and use a triangle of fluro faux fur to make substitute bell bottoms? Actually there was only one weirdo at school who used to do that and it was me, but I still love it in a Dylan Lewis is still on Recovery kinda way and sometimes I get a killer need to tie dye a nightie just for old times sake.

Fare Evading. I managed to weasel my way outta the latest tram fine I received. Yes I know fare evading is wrong, but I sometimes I still do it. If your one of those people who ‘do good’ and ‘deserve to be here’ it may well pacify you to know that now I actually have been sufficiently scared into purchasing tickets on public transport.

Reading Yahoo News. I know this is bad. Really bad. A slippery slope even. This is the online equivalent to watching a current affair. Now however I can actually hold a conversation with my mum without having to stifle the urge to suffocate her with a pillow when she discusses the ‘topical’ issues of our days.

Locking my keys in the car. Yes I am stupid. Lucky I have a spare set at home and have hade been successful is arranging good mates to send them my way in times of need. This is good because I have been to tight to join the RACV.

I got my hair cut. Into a bowl shape. I now bear a striking resemblance to Jim Carey in Dumb and Dumber. I am very happy about this. VERY.

Sorry, I am not a prostitute…yet…

Hello thought you would like to hear of an abject poverty page success story. And when I say success I mean FAIL. Lunch today was of course steak, which I shared with a work colleague. Canadian informed me today that he has very successfully spent $200 since being paid at 8pm last night. Considering we were lunching at the traditional time of 12pm, I feel this is a pretty awesome feat and deserves a big clap. As apart of his awesomeness he also offered to buy me a free lunch if I went to second base. I declined. Regretfully I have some sort of standard. I feel this is currently separating me form the beggars and prostitutes on the 86. GO STANDARDS!

Ps despite my new found fortune, I have rent +car insurance + a fine to pay + I am going to a vintage sale tomorrow. This means I am not leaving this page ever and you are all stuck with my updates form now until I sober up. Please accept my sincere apologies for this. *reaches for the Shiraz*

Eating house-mates chocolate

I just came up with an idea that is pure fucking genius. Well actually that’s a lie. Me and rummy (housemate no1) were sitting on the couch eating the Germans (housemate no 2) chocolate and she was all like, you should totes blog about this, and I was all like totes. Anyway it’s a very economical tip. Its called eating housemate’s chocolate. Even if you are slightly retarded or just bit of a dip shit in general, I am sure you can figure out where this is going. EAT YOUR HOUSEMATES CHOCOLATE.

But you can add to the shitness of this act 10 fold by following my lead. Heres an example of what I do. Recently, the German bought a packet of Lindt chocolate after I publicly shamed her on Facebook about eating a piece of mine. The German graciously replaced the missing chocolate, and then some. Not being content with that, me and rummy found the remaining chocolate that she has rather unskilfully hid on her pantry shelf. Firstly we ate only one piece each, which would be easily over looked by the German.  Then we realised that one was not enough because we are giant chocolate whores, so we ate the rest. To really top off our awesomeness we put ALL the wrappers back in the packet. Then put the packet back on her shelf. You might think, wow you guys sound like cunt’s, and you might be on to something there, but WE ate the chocolate and YOU did not! AND FUCK IT WAS GOOD! I highly recommend having a partner in crime for this. Not only is there safety in numbers, it also makes it more fun. It’s very common in our house that we combine forces like a really shit, no budget version of the power rangers and sniff out the chocolate together.

However be warned that this has a down side. Once you set up a precedence for eating your housemates chocolate, it’s more than likely they will start eating yours. I find its takes about an hour after I bring chocolate into the house before rummy is sniffing at my door like one of those truffle hunting dogs. I can be all like chilling in my room when suddenly, I hear heavy panting, I look to the door, there is a wet nose and a patch of moisture where the condensation of her heavy breathing is forming on the floor. She’s found me out. There is no escape. I have to share. At this point if you don’t share you will be the all time worst housemate ever. While I support taking advantage of your housemate as much as you can, if you push it too far, living with them will just be shit. And you really don’t want that. Or do you?

FUCK I WISH I HAD MONEY

IT’S THE DAY BEFORE PAY DAY. I confess I do not enjoy being in such an impoverished state. I already spent my allocated dollar for the day on a strong soy latte with only half the milk. As this went over budget, I am currently in a deficit. Lucky for me I had the forethought to purchase a 1litre bottle of Shiraz so that I am more or less able to drink my way into the next pay check. My current activities include hatching multiple plans that involve spending my cash monies as soon as I have it in my hot little hands. I already have a steak date with my work colleague which will also involve a sneaky wine at lunch meaning I come back to work a bit pissed. GREAT IDEA, RIGHT?

Death week continues…

Its death week and I am failing epically. I just checked my bank account and I have precisely $3.13. That’s not even enough to buy a soy latte. Hipsters everywhere ring the bell on your fixie if you share my pain.
That leaves me $1.04 till pay day which will be approx 8 pm this thurs. 

Heres a story that illustrates why Kate and Mish created this page. (This is a dramatization of actual events that happened this weekend)

Mish ; Hey Kate, wanna go to the tip shop?

Kate: Hells yes!

Mish: Ok lets go! But wait, I have work so we won’t have enough time to spend all the money we don’t have. 

Kate: That sound very logical, Ok, want to go to Savers instead?

Mish: Hells yes!

Point made.

DEATH WEEK

 Around the office we have a term refer to the week before pay day. Its death week. Because not having any money for a week is very similar to being on death row. I am very confident that this is the case because I just googled death row. And this is what I found. Quote it aint no “”country club“. For realises. So next time your at your oh la la country club, just remember is not at all like DEATH ROW. They also said stuff about bars, concret floors plastic cutlery ect. However I prefer to zero in on the not like a country club part because that was also a line in a Cheryl Crow song. It went something like this,

 Hit it!

This ain’t no disco

And it ain’t no country club either,

This is L.A.

 Catchy, No?

 

I also found a picture of this woman. Don’t laugh at it. I am pretty sure she’s dead now.

Image

Yes I am aware that this probably in very poor taste, but apparently, I also don’t care.

 

 Did I mention it’s now death week?

THE CHALLENGE

 

Don’t loose my shit and buy stuff everyday, such as lunch, chocolate, ect. (this does not include cheap wine and coffee, because that is always ok no matter how broke you are, in fact these are pivotal for maintaining your mental health, I know this because I saw an article about it on yahoo news.) After I get paid it’s ok thought because then I will have some kind money for a week and may as well enjoy it.

 

CHALLENGE IS ON!!!!!! GAME ON MOLE!!

Frigay Promises

I made promises last frigay night. They were of the I am getting drunk on cheap wine Friday variety! blahblah blah blah. Will post about it all night! blah blah blah blah high jinx will certainly ensure! Blah blah blah


Unfortunately I did not get drunk on cheap wine as I indicated. Why? BECAUSE I HAVE NO FOLLOW THROUGH.
But I have something else to share with you that’s just as fun and CHEAP AS FUCK.
It involves housemate being drunk and watching her. Don’t presume because she’s drunk in any way that mean you have to be responsible for her. On the contrary you can gain more enjoyment by letting her run wild and creating a game out of her misfortune. I encourage you to keep a fall tally. As well all know it inevitable that rummies will hit the deck sooner or later. May as well make a game out of it! My Rummy had a few epic falls during the night such as, rummy sees hot guy, hot guy makes eye contact, rummy starts to strut until legs suddenly turn to linguine and she hits the deck, rummy lays on the d floor in mess of mangled limbs until other rummies help her up, hot guy watches from a distance, sips a drink, then turns away. This also provides entertainment the next day too when she cannot remember them all and you have the fun of retelling them. You can even make a few up for your own amusement, if you’re so inclined. I know I am.
So more or less Friday night consisted of rummy doing what rummys do best, and me watching and laughing. Also met a man wearing a grug t-shit. HOW FUCKING COOL IS THAT!
Then there was the taxi ride home. Rummy catches her foot in the car door. Technically not a fall, but I feel it should still be on the fall tally. Don’t be feeling sorry of for her! She’s drunk and can no longer feel her limbs, and until there is an accidental amputation, there is no cause for concern. The drunken babbling is not exactly the most thrilling part of the ride home, however the ride is cut short because rummy decides that we have to go to café romantica, so that’s where we go.
Café romantica is an experience not to be missed. It’s like masturbation in that most people do it, but no one talks about it. (Most not all, I am looking at you
Dave Shackleford) More or less it’s a lime green mouth brothel with fluorescent lighting that burn your retina as you pleasure your mouth with cheesy bread. Generally visits to this place is when you are blind drunk, so its not obvious at the time the eye damage you are doing. Until the next day, when all you can see every time you close your eyes is a garish geen chasing you eye ball all over the inside of your eyelids. oh yeah, it also has one of those video games where you can shoot things with a plastic gun. Did I mention its hell romantic?
After this awesomeness the NIGHT ENDS. rummy takes laxatives. BECAUSE THIS IS A GOOD IDEA, A VERY GOOD ONE. Housemate does not know taking laxatives will result in an uncommon amount of defecation the next day. This is discovered after I find the housemate formerly known as rummy in the bathroom looking very serious the morning after. She looks me dead in the eye and says. DO NOT GO IN THERE. Shakes her head and her eyes widen, she repeats, DO NOT GO IN THERE. the there is the toilet, and judging form the way she is currently eyeballing me, I say ok as I back away and close the bathroom door, leaving housemate to her secret toilet business. I opted to walk to the café around the corner to use the facilities. Shortly after I get a text message saying I AM DOING ALL THE POOS. I was very glad I was not a home during this time. VERY VERY GLAD.

Hey there,

Just in case you were all like, WTF is up with this blog? What’s it all about? Well let me explain a few things. You see I get paid monthly. So the first 2 weeks after pay day I more or less go bat shit crazy, lulled into a false sense of security that I actually have money. Then the realization that I actually have to budget, be responsible, think about stuff like the consequence of buying whatever shit I have like from Savers

Things happen like this:  WHOOO! I have money!! I am going to eat STEAK! And drink affordable (not cheap) wine! Then eat mini cup cakes that cost more than the normal cup cakes and eat twice as many!! Then I realize, fuck, I kinda spent a lot, like, quite a bit actually. And now I have fuck all cashola to live off.. So here I am. Poor…. Again. And back on the Abjact povery page. Kate and Mish. FOR EVA.

Also my due to my very successful foray into the lobster dog page on FB and all the accolades that followed, I decided to move most of the content form the abject pov page that began on the book face, and BLOG LIKE A MAD WOMAN SHITTING!!! Or something to that effect…

To clarify, this is what poor month truly is:

A period of time that begins from the time I get drunk and have some kind of a stupid idea, which seams ingenious at the time and will continue until I get bored with the stupid idea and move on to another stupid idea, which may or may not involve dogs in lobster costumes. During this period you can expect infrequent post, most of which were conceived while inebriated. Because drunken posts are the hall mark of a quality page. You can be assured of QUALITY.