Disentangled

Proper grown-up decision time, and I don't know what to do!!!!!

OK, so the crack is, I've got to move out. For various reasons, too juicy not to detract from the main issue which is WHERE THE FUCK AM I GOING TO GO?!?!?!?!

I have 4 options so far.....

1) The hippy house - found via an ad on the noticeboard in college
Advantages: It's in town so bye-bye to spending and hour a day on a bus and money on tickets; could go out on the town and not spend £20 on a taxi home! It's a lovely big room, big enough for all my crap, in a nice green part of town with sunshine coming through the windows. There's an enormous bath, and the rent's nae bad for all that.
Disadvantages: It's an all-organic, food-sharing, yoga-doing, talking-stick type hippy household. The resident couple are definitely In Charge, although they have pseudo-democratic House Meetings. They've already decided how the communal areas are used, as in, our crap can go in this living room but yours can't (like, fuck off). There's something nasty and hypocritical and pious and bullying about them, and the food-sharing communal-living part means there'd be no way of avoiding it. And what about my packed lunch, would they let me have that? I like eating what I want to, dammit!

2) The rat sanctuary - my pal Cathy's place
Advantages: It's with my friend Cathy, the best person I've met in this place, we have a brilliant laugh, have loads in common and I can't think of anyone I'd rather live with. I'd be with all the animals, and have total freedom and get involved in the sanctuary even more.
Disadvantages: Oh god. It's dirty, the washing machine doesn't work, the room isn't nearly big enough for a marriage worth of crap, the storage space for the remaining crap is cramped and damp, the animals regularly get out and munch things, there isn't a space indoors for my beloved bike, it's still miles out of town and a scary alsation wanders about nearby.

3) Sexy bloke from the village's house - he's going to work down south apparently and is looking to rent it in his absence
Advantages: It's a whole house for a really decent price. I wouldn't have to share it with anybody. There's loft space for all my extra crap. It's a proper address to put on those CVs.
Disadvantages: It's still miles out of town. Realistically, he's gonna be back in the area and wanting to crash there cos it is his house and all that. And that'll mean a) living with a live-in landlord and b) living with a bloke I'm sleeping with; two things I swore I'd never do again... never felt so angry and helpless as when having to keep some unreasonable cunt happy so as not to be kicked out; love the freedom of being able to flounce off home after an argument. Reckon he means c) sort of short-term, house-sitting while he's away, but I've got far too much crap to cart about for that. Maybe I need to get rid of some of it anyway...

4)Jay's spare room
Advantages: cheap, in town, probably storage space for crap
Disadvantages: offered under the influence of alcohol so maybe not even a real offer. Hardly know him.

So help!!! Wee Alan from college reckons I should go with the sanctuary, and I'm inclined to agree with him... he might be only 16, but he has that air about him, y'know those people who probably won't ever fuck anything up too badly cos they remember their priorities when making important devisions.... or maybe I'm just so desparate I'll agree with anyone who has an opinion...

Friends, acquaintances, total strangers and random nutters are hereby invited to tell me where to go, cos I just don't know and time is running out...

- so they sacked John the area manager. It was high time really; the place is a shambles and it's got to be at least partly his fault. Now I know - or if I don't I bloody well should - how shit it is losing your job, how deflated and helpless it makes you feel, how sniggering about it says far more about me than it does about him... but on the other hand he was an ego-driven condescending fat bald cunt who called me "darling", and I'm glad somebody's burst his bubble.

I'm going to go straight to hell.

Know I'm getting old, cos my knees are playing up. Mangled cartilage from too much road-running as a kid, exacerbated by:
a) shuffling about in silly girlie shoes on Saturday night
b) falling arse-over-tit down the underpass stairs last Wednesday
c) dancing all night at Faithless and subsequent club last weeekend

Know I'm getting old, cos I went into the pub with a lassie from work at the weekend, said "I can't stand this horrible noise" and walked straight back out. But then! Then I wandered up to my usual haunt and was apprehended on the way to the bar by a drunk bloke shouting "Hey! It's Bob the Builder from Beauly!" And I drank my solitary bottle of Magners and felt all warm inside.

If I'm going to get sacked from the chippy - and I reckon I am, realistically - then I want it to be for this:

Morbidly obese person lumbers up to chip shop counter and places order. Large order. Chip server shakes head sadly and, in the manner of bartender, says,

"I'm sorry, Sir, I can't serve you anymore... I think you've had enough, don't you?"

I'm startin' to think that maybe just possibly staying up til 3 this morning drinking red wine and Tennant's Special wasn't the best of ideas. Can't keep my eyes open long enough to finish the damned assessment; off to work after this and won't be home till 1-ish; up at 6 again tomorrow morning... Pretty sure I used to party all night, get an hour's sleep, go to work as fresh as a daisy and party all over again the following night... not sure where that went, or this morning's feelings of brand-new-ness, but ahhhhhhhhhh I'm too old for this, my brain and body hurt and I want my bed...

Lecturer: " - and we can also categorise boilers by the type of flue. So what types of flue have we got? We've got open flue; closed flue; balanced flue - "

Lone voice from back of class: "Bird flu..."

- so we're in the pub, and Cathy's bumped into a drunk repetetive bloke she knows and they're blethering away about people I've never met. Zoning out, I start lugging in to the cute ginger bloke behind me telling the barmaid that "...it's Her fault I'm in here; sent me to the Co-op for maltesers cos it's the lighter way to enjoy chocolate, or some shite like that." Chortle.

Zone back in and realise Cathy and Drunk Bloke are both staring at me in shocked, gaping horror. "What?" I ask, still sniggering into my JD and coke.

"Andy was just telling us how he's had cancer," Cathy informs me.

Ah. Ummmm... oops?

Comment: fuckin' hell!!
Answer: I hope they do, cos that's where I'm going!

Thanks to Butch the noisy chef for that one.