Speaking of controversial blogs, (are we speaking of them? Well now we are) my all-time favourite Things I Hate About My Flatmate has gone amiss. And is incredibly missed at that.
The Ant and I thought it was a girl – a very angry embittered bitch too – that wrote the blog. Until a few months ago, where he slipped up in a meek sentence surrounding loading the dishwasher in a suit bearing cufflinks with his flatmate’s dirty dishes.
The Ant: No man could ever be so angry.
Peas: Oh yes they could. Think about it – men keep stuff bottled up, he spews his angst out onto a blog. Bit like me.
The Ant: But girls wear cufflinks too.
Peas: Perhaps on the rarest of occasions.
The Ant: I bet he’s a patent lawyer or something.
Peas: Yes he’s definitely a products-orientated lawyer. He wrote an entire page about how his fridge works. He’s uses Latin terminologies everywhere.
The Ant: He’s crazy.
Peas: He’s the type of oke that’ll put an axe in your head while you’re sleeping.
The Ant: Most definitely. His writing bears serious psycho tendencies.
His last post – if indeed he is a he, 90% certain – was dated April 21, 2006. After ranting about a coke-shnarfing roommate, followed by just a plain irritating flatmate, he moved in with two other people. The last he wrote, he was particularly perfunctory, using acrimonious details previously unknown. Methinks his flatmate(s) cottoned on, found the blog and sued him, or sued him and then killed him, possibly by shoving him in the offending dishwasher and sticking it on ‘industrial wash.’ Or the likes thereof. The Ant reckons he’s started shagging his flatmate.
The Ant: I think they got drunk, had sex, and now he can’t find anything bad to write about her.
Peas: His last post was him bitching about her leaving fresh paint all over the house, ‘cos she’s an artist and her dubious nose ring.
The Ant: Even so, I’m telling you, he’s shagging her.
Peas: Well if he is, then there is still going to be chaos. Since he moved in with a couple.
The Ant: Maybe he kicked the other flatmate out.
Peas: Maybe, maybe he’s shagging the guy! He’s a poof! [ping of lightbulb] He’s GAY. G.A.Y. All this rage was pent up because he’s a flaming queen!
The Ant: [getting increasingly excited] Liberace over here wore cufflinks and frilly shirts and the whole time, and was attracted to his revoltingly messy male housemate!
Peas: Yes! Yes! No straight man talks about curtains like that!
The Ant: No man talks about his puttanesca culinary fucking pasta sauce like that! And he’s way too bitchy to be a straight man.
Peas: Way too fastidious.
The Ant: Way.
Peas: Way way.
The Ant: Extra way.
(And then she started picking at her scab.)
The man writes like God. Posts that I clearly remember include when his drunk flatmate woke him up at 3am, when she didn’t pay rent but bought him rather a packet of biscotti from an unmentioned trip to Italy, flying his roommate’s kite into a tree on purpose, the bitch about someone leaving the fridge door open, the killing of his plant by the roommate, toilet paper or lack thereof, someone eating his imported jasmine honey, the visits by the landlord, and the unclogging of said dishwasher from stray penne blocking the pipe catchment.
It’s unclear where he even lives. I managed to get out of him on a mention of an exclusively Saffa word [it was hard – he doesn’t answer any of his very-scathing comments, even when copiously suggested he move out or get an attitude-change], that he originally comes from the Eastern Cape somewhere. But now lawyer-jets between probably London and Washington DC. I’m telling you, he’s six feet under or taking it up Bourneville Boulevard. Or he has simply disemblogged.