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August 12, 2013 | by  | in Opinion | [ssba]

Weekly Rant: Flatmate Wanted

I moved into a building in an ominous alleyway behind Nando’s, and now I only have one kidney and four lungs (I’m good at haggling, and thought they might go nicely with the lounge suite).

22 July:

I notice a suspicious-looking crack in my bedroom.

“Guys, there’s nowhere to hide in my room during an earthquake.”

“Hide under the coffee table.”

“Good idea, I’ve been practicing my limbo.”



“I am never going back in my room after this,” I declare.

“I feel like watching the royal wedding,” says Laura.

“They cancelled it after the pilot.”

“I bought it on DVD. Do you think they’ll name the baby Spencer?”

Hugo returns promptly to his room. Flicks light switch, light bulb falls to floor.

Contents of room:

    – Three light switches, two lights, both one functional.

    – Curtain where door should be.

    – Walls made of cupboards.

Frankly (I assume that’s your name), retreating behind the curtain is a bit like putting a sheet on my head, standing in the Hub and yelling: “Will you all please be quiet, I’m just trying to have some ‘me’ time.” Consequently, I’ve been going through a phase medically known as ‘getting into Home and Away’ and I’m very close to choosing my favourite Kardashian.


Advantages of putting a sheet on your head:

– Look like a ghost (good for haggling with back-alley surgeons).

– Avoid eye contact with nearly everyone.

Disadvantages of putting a sheet on your head:

Look like a ghost (ignore if people tend to look right through you anyway).


Anyway, Frankly, where was I? I’ve opted to leave the curtain open a lot in an effort to make new friends. There’s one girl who comes over a lot. She loves One Direction, but hates answering difficult questions.

“If you could only have four members of One Direction with you on a desert island, who would you leave off? I’d pick Zach or Henry, they’re too cocky for me.”

“You’re a bastard.”

“You look like a Hanson brother.”

I think I’m funny. She got white-girl wasted* and sprayed me with Justin Bieber’s ‘Someday’. I smelt like a 14-year-old girl for a week and no-one would listen to my explanation.

“What’s that smell man?”


“What? Mate, just tell me now.”

“Yea dude, ‘Someday’.”

“Come on, just bloody-well tell me what it is.”


Hugo puts a sheet on his head, exits stage left.

Making friends is hard.

Dejected, I stand in the lounge, an aftershock rattles the building, the energy to dive for cover gone. It rains.

“Prince George is actually probably my fave royal,” says Laura.

Peri peri wafts through the window in a concentration 12 times the recommended dosage. You know, I felt very silly about all my hang-ups after those earthquakes. When the planet is trying to kill you, it seemed a bit pointless to stand around being nervous and self-conscious. Why did I distance myself from other people? Maybe I could just let my prejudices go for one moment and make a genuine human connection with someone. It could be over anything, as long as I let a person show me who they really are without judgment.

“Hey Laura, do you think that when it’s raining it’s because Kate and William are having a bad day?”

“Fuck you, Hugo.”


“You’re not invited to my party.”


*A real term people use.


Disclaimer: Flatmates ridiculously lovely, flat actually pretty ideal. A++ would trade again.


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