Murphy

June 27, 2011

My once nemesis has grown on me. Therefore I’d like to dedicate the following rap (West coast all the way, RIP Tupac) to him. My creative vision hopes to be realised through commercial RnB. May Ashanti and Ja Rule reunite and make such sweet, sweet music like their former hits ‘Always on Time’and ‘Mesmerize’. Thank you and this goes out to you Murphy.

Murphy, Murphy,
You make my sinuses go crazee
But when you look at me with your itty bitty eyez
My heart goes BA BOOM with surprise.

Hey lil’ Murphy, I think I like you
(like you, like you)
Hey lil’ Murphy, I don’t despise you
(despise you)

Just last week, the thought of you made me low
All you were, was a goddamn furry foe
Now I know you don’t mean no harm
Hey lil’ Murphy you got some feline charm.

Hey lil’ Murphy, I think I like you
(like you, like you)
Hey lil’ Murphy, I don’t despise you
(despise you)

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Or crackpots. One of the two. Yes, our new family are potentially nuts but there’s no need for alarm.

At first I thought, they were really straight. Daddy David came to pick us up and while it wasn’t surprising he didn’t laugh at Luke’s jokes (I did because I’m a good, supportive girlfriend) he just seemed devoid of humour. But as soon as we met Sunny Mummy, it all changed. She had the barking mad aura of a moon worshipper (she has a stars and moon covered book, most probably filled with positive affirmations) and we’re pretty sure she was inebriated. I had a rather awkward greet which involved me thinking she was going to shake my hand and instead she kissed me, so we kissed holding hands. It was almost as bad as my handshake with Daddy D as he gripped very tightly onto my fingers before I could get the rest of my hand in the shake. Then we proceeded to have a rather random dinner. But out of that, one of the three Jeffs in the village is taking us to Narbonne tomorrow on his way to church.

Anyway.

Their chateau is beautiful. It’s set in the most picturesque village. It’s 25 minutes outside of Narbonne looking over a 300 year old canal. From our room you can see the Pyrenees. The Pyrenees damn it! Mummy and Daddy bought it after seeing the ‘Parlor’ which they now use as a music room. And it is really lovely – floor to ceiling french doors, high ceilings with ornate detailing, wide fireplaces and doors that I’ve only ever seen in castles. Our room is on the 3rd floor and we have the entire floor to ourselves. There’s a 26 degree pool and their kitchen is stocked with the most lovely, fresh local produce. And then there’s the cat. Another fucking cat. This time called Murphy.

Murphy, you too will be my nemesis.

After dinner, Mummy and Daddy went out to a concert. We were told that Murphy wasn’t allowed in the Parlor. Of course, when we opened the door, the little shit ran through. So we ran in after and closed the doors so he couldn’t go any further. Now, I refuse to touch cats, so I told Luke to get him. The only trouble is, Murphy is fucking mental. He skits around like someone on Ice and then hides in sofa covers, has a spaz attack and hides somewhere else. Luke tried picking him up and he scratched the shit out of him. So we tried wedging the door to the kitchen open, turning off the lights and fooling him into thinking we had gone. Didn’t work. So then I went and got some of his food and tried luring him out with that. It worked. Except I shut the door in triumph forgetting we had left the lights on in the kitchen that we were instructed to turn off. This then turned into another 10 minute ordeal as Luke couldn’t get out of the kitchen without Murphy. He ended up having to go out the back way and come through the garden. All this for a bloody cat. Then we had to crawl around on our hands and knees looking for the cat food that Murphy had scattered and therefore camouflaged into the Parlor floor.

Fucking cats. More on the nutters tomorrow.

Farewell Jpow

June 17, 2011


I have no idea where the past two and a half weeks have gone. In this time our way of life has completely changed. Before coming here, we were lucky if we cleaned our house every two months. We had no idea how to hang towels or ride a tandem. Cooking on an Aga was only a dream (although now, it’s actually a nightmare). We can safely say we have acquired a few new life skills, despite their practicality is questionable. Having said that, I can totally imagine being on a plane and the stewardess asking over loudspeaker; “does anybody onboard know how to stack and un-stack an industrial dishwasher? It’s an emergency!” Then, I can put my hand up, a little shyly at first, then followed by a heroic stacking performance where after everyone claps in awe. Ten minutes? That girl has GOT IT GOING ON…sorry, that fantasy was a little long. Where was I? Oh, Luke now goes by Jpow’s pet name for him; Lukey Boy. And I go by ‘she hates you Robbie’ – also penned by Jpow although sadly not as lovingly delivered.

Tomorrow morning we’re off to Narbonne. Our new chateau home is with a retired, yet ‘VERY ACTIVE’ couple. I don’t know about you, but to me, that screams swingers. It might well be my over active imagination (I was slightly worried that Jpow was a serial killer – although this has yet to be confirmed) but just in case, I’ve bagsied the less wrinkly one due to my phobia of excess skin.

So goodbye Jpow. Robbie and Kylie, you can kiss my ass.

Advantage Vanessa

June 9, 2011


Tonight I decided to do some Robbie damage control. So eight days after arriving, I decided to make my first comment on the cats, yes, ok, out of nowhere, and said to chateau dude (I’m going to start calling him Jpow):

“Gee, Kylie sleeps a lot”.

That was as close to a cat compliment I could get out of my mouth. I then followed it with making a few random meow noises towards the other room (I’m not entirely sure if the cats were even in there) and then said to Jpow, very casually:

“I really like cats, but it makes me sad that I can’t pat them because I’m allergic to them”.

I then pulled a mini sad face which in reality, is not that much different to my normal face, but perhaps with more snarl.

Then I asked him if he wanted some cake (Jpow has a massive sweet tooth).

BACK IN THE GAME.

 

The revenge of Robbie

June 8, 2011

I fucking hate cats. They make me sneeze, make my eyes itch uncontrollably and I’m pretty sure Robbie the cat is responsible for my stupid STD – like rash on my face. So as one of my general life rules, I like to at hiss at cats whenever their little beady eyes and bendy skeletal bodies come my way. If hissing is not socially acceptable at the time, I will settle for an internal hiss paired with a death like glare.

Now, our chateau dude is a cat lover. So much so that I wouldn’t be surprised if they both slept on his face while wearing matching Prada cat nighties. And the worst part is, he HATES people who hate cats. So of course, I’ve been on my best behaviour – throwing in as many hisses as I can when Robbie and I are alone.

So tonight was like torture.

After seeing Luke and I battle it out with a good ole game of Shithead, chateau dude wanted a piece of the action, so after dinner, we taught him how to play. Happy days. The problem occurred at 8pm when it’s Robbie and Kylie’s curfew inside. So while we were still playing Shithead, Robbie got locked in the kitchen. With us. Now, when Robbie is locked in, he likes being right in the middle of the action, most favourably on the table, right up in my grill. As most of you probably know, I’m not capable of being subtle. Despite what I thought was great cat tolerating acting on my behalf, Luke told me  it was actually on par with Sandra Bullock’s performance in The Blind Side (Academy Award my arse). Honestly, I thought my acting rotation whenever Robbie came near me was inspiring:

1. leaning away from the stupid cat, pretending to look at the cards in the middle of the table

2. pretending Robbie scared me when he jumped up on the table in front of me, so much so I had to move my chair back

3. saying ‘oh you like me, don’t you’ while having to give in and touch it (he was on my lap) and then dropping him on the ground

Now, unfortunately, during the first game of Shithead, we had agreed that chateau dude should teach us Canasta – probably the most complicated and hardest to learn card game in history. During the explanation of the game, Robbie was either jumping on the side of my chair, the back of my chair, on my lap, on the table or sitting on my fucking cards. Needless to say, trying to act like I was ok with this goddamn cat in my face while trying to listen to the 500 different rules and terminology of the game meant I sucked and my performance suffered.

Robbie, you made me touch your spindly ginger body and now I have no choice but to make you my nemesis.