Well, not EMPTY per se. More like 'no parents and only one sibling but he's quiet and surly so he really doesn't count'. It's pretty empty, though. Except for the dogs, which we are ignoring.
So, we have total freedom to do WHATEVER we want. We can go wild. We can go crazy. We can dance in the doorway in our underwear and cool-guy sunglasses to Who Wears Short-Shorts?. We can drink hard liquor. We can even eat Cesar Salads FOR BREAKFAST. AT TWELVE O CLOCK. Then watch the cricket for hours on end. Hell, if we wanted to, we could even commit the ultimate act of anti-authoritarian rebellion - listening to Linkin Park at high volume late at night.
You get that? LINKIN PARK. Total freedom. So far, we have been totally without any adult contstraints for... thirteen hours and fifty one minutes.
And already I have that weird shivery semi-hysterical feeling I get when things are rapidly spiralling out of control. Maybe I'm high on glue fumes. Or spray paint. That is a definite possibility. Today, inspired by my new hero Banksy I have been making STENCILS. Printing them out on paper (wasting black ink), attaching them to bits of card with spray mount (sending spray fumes everywhere), cutting them out with sharp knives (bits of card and stuff all over the floor, huge knife-blister on my finger), then spraying them with Chaos Black spray paint (fingertips covered in black, possible paint on floor, masses of fumes). Here's a good example of my stenclin' skillz:
What have I stencilled? You'll have to read the rest of this post to find out!*
*or just skip to the bottom. You're not missing much, just a lot of neurotic complaints about the dishwasher.
I've done like five of these, all in my poorly ventillated room. I'm now feeling dizzy and drowsy, symptoms that are described on the CHAOS BLACK but not so much on the 3M PHOTO MOUNT. Maybe that's cos I used up the the photo mount already this afternoon and have already become high off it. That'd explain why I decided to make a cake this afternoon.
Yes, I made a cake. Apparently my mother saw fit to keep us entertained while she was away FOR THE ONE WEEKEND so she left us not one but TWO 'bake your own' kits. After the success of the cookies (which were delicious) we decided to go crazy on the cake, which seemed to be suitably choco-riffic and fudge-tacular, judging by the picture on the box. Despite not knowing what 'cream the butter' meant and failing to grease the tins much, it went fairly well, I thought. My little brother didn't agree with me, but we've already confirmed that he's surly. So he doesn't count.
Well, after a good deal of yelling at me, we ended up with one mother FUCKER of a cake. I mean it was so fit. Like a big brown beautiful cylinder of cakeynes. However, the following things were also splattered with brown choco-rific-ality:
Like four spoons
Several bowls
The spinny bits for the electric whisk
The floor in several places
My dogs (Yes I know chocolate is meant to be deadly for dogs you dipshits, but it's not, so fuck off)
Much of the tabletop
My t-shirt (oh yeah, I also managed to cover my nice t-shirt in PVA glue; combined with the brown, I look like a by-stander in a really weird bit of porno)
The tabletop
The back of my mouth, due to delicious licking-of-bowlnessitude
The stove, which was still turned on, so now there's chocolate burnt onto it
Our attempts to clean up were not successful. Mostly because the damn washing machine doesn't work. Well, I can't get it to work. I'm not good with machinery. Well, I am good with MAN machinery (lawnmowers, chainsaws, nailguns, iMacs, N64s), but not so good with what the general population would refer to as LADY machinery (irons, washing machines, dishwashers, brooms, mops, sewing, babies, PCs, Playstations). Did you see dishwashers in that list? Because I seriously can't figure out what the hell's up with our particular appliance. Like, I put the little tablet thing in like I was meant to then I turned round the twizzly knob and IT MADE A CHUBA-CHUBA SOUND BUT THEN WHEN I OPENED THE WASHING MACHINE NOTHING WAS CLEAN AND THERE WAS WHITE CRAP ALL OVER THE BOTTOM OF THE DISHWASHER. Never have I wanted a maid more. I ended up going through four different tablets before I finally got it to work properly.
Fucking dishwashers. And I'm driving in less than a month. Whoopee. Well I think that I'll be ok, just so long as the car doesn't require detergent and doesn't have a spin-cycle.
Some other things that point towards the slowly breaking fabric of our household:
Our dogs are going crazy, seeing as we haven't walked them or, like, paid any attention to them at all. In retaliation, one of them ate half a bag of sugar. Why? Why would a dog do this? But it did. It does explain how hyper they were this afternoon.
There's a puddle of tea next to the kettle. It's been there for at least seven hours. Nobody has done anything. We're just ignoring it. Hoping that it will go away. BUT THAT'S THE THING. THERE ARE NO PARENTS THERE. THINGS JUST STAY THERE. ARGH.
There's a dead mouse and something that might be a dead slug but is probably an alien tentacle floating in the water-butt in the garden.
There is a big pile of washing up for things that don't fit in the dishwasher. As we speak, the chocolate sauce covering them is probably solidifying to being harder than rock.
My brother has already turned into my mother.
The fountain in the garden is full of random green shit.
My brother just walked into my room and asked me if it looked like he was wearing elf shoes. Like I said, surly.
I am finding it difficult to find anything in this house. Including bin-liners.
Did I mention that I have no clue if the dishwasher is doing anything useful at the moment?
I'm getting high off fumes.
Despite the massive stockpile of food left for us, we've already eaten through most of the pre-made meals in the fridge. Shit. Soon we'll be living on beans. Except I don't know how to make beans. And I couldn't find them if I wanted to.
I'm not putting the dog poo in the garden into bags and binning it. I'm just kicking it into the flower-bed.
I'm feeling a sinking feeling every time I go anywhere.
WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE! HOLY SHIT. If you're coming to my house on Sunday, bring some food, and possibly a mother to sort us out. Please.
Oh yeah, it was a shark. Just upside down, to confuse you losers. Ha, fooled you eh? Rinsed.
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