So, I found a flat in the end. I moved in on August, 31st, with help from my parents who parked very badly on the sidewalks.
I had to wash some places difficult to access.
(I was talking about the mezzanine, what did you imagine?)
It's very cute.
A neighbour left some furniture and a mattress in the court, which triggerred some angry reactions.
I got a futon and put on the red bedsheets.
Nevertheless, given the price I pay for this flat, it's a shame using these bedsheets alone. So my mission is to find a man. But I might have to go to the hairdresser first.
It's been a year and a half since I've last had a winter, because last year, I cheated, I left to South America and I could dodge it!
But yesterday, I felt the cold outside, the cold in my bed, the cold in my head!
It makes me anxious.
I should have gone to Spain.
I didn't have sex for more than a year. Holy shit.
I have to say I have good excuses. First, I got scabies. Then, I was in Latin America and finding a gay bar there is a mission. Then I came back to France where I don't have proper accomodation yet. So, huh, don't judge me!
Does it actually bring me something to be "abstinent" like that? No. And also I totally forgot how sex works. My next sexual adventure might be... unsettling.
And then I started wanting to explore some alternatives, such as in this advert found on Embruns.
Image credits: D.vice
If you can't read it, go there.
I have to fix this situation asap...
A very interesting experiment to do is to listen to Boards of Canada in the parisian metro. You look at the people and you start thinking everybody is weird.
The prices of accomodation in Paris REALLY skyrocketed! 5 years ago, I lived in a furnished studio flat at Opera for 380 euros a month. Now, the same thing costs double! And I don't wanna go back to a studio flat on the 6th floor without lift and I don't wanna put more than a third of my salary in the rent either!
SO! If you hear about a little place, nice and cheap, let me know!
PLEASE!!!
PS: my budget is higher than 380 euros!
Coming back to Paris feels very strange. It looks nice, it's picturesque, but after living 4 years in London, I'm kind of disappointed.
London is a tough city. But I really had idealised Paris too much in comparison.
Molluscum contagiosum. I didn't know what it was, until the dermatologist had a look at the two or three spots on my butt... Thankfully it's very very easy to cure.
It's quite odd though that it should happen when I haven't had sex for one year. The same thing happened to me with body louse. And regarding scabies, it is very likely that I didn't get it through sexual contact either. And I AM A CLEAN PERSON, I wash with soap and everything!!! (The doctors all insisted that you don't get this stuff because you're dirty, but because you get in contact with people who are infected.)
I am cursed. Or indeed, I can tell myself that it's not because I don't fuck that I won't get anything weird. (The skin doctor also suggested I may have selective immunity, that is, my body doesn't fight skin infections so well but is more efficient regarding other stuff. Well, well...)
I'm so fed up with the FIFA World Cup! And it has only just started! The news, the adverts, the neighbours, Twitter, everything is saturated with football. We need a radical solution to this problem.
Thnking about it, all the greatest football players, and the world's most powerful federations are currently in South Africa. It's the perfect moment! Let's hurry up and throw an entire arsenal of nuclear bombs on the towns where the games are playing! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! And after that, we would never hear of football ever again, ha ha ha! We will get back to real news, talking about dead, blood and tears, and not happy crowds of bastards, ha ha ha!
Image credits: Unknown
Today my twinsister came back from holidays and came home to pick up her dog.
She had brough a present for everyone, including a bottle of Coucougnettes for my father. "Coucougnettes" is a funny name for testicles in french. Still, it was very good!
In the kitchen, my sister noticed my mother had exposed the mug Ada got me from Amsterdam. My mother didn't realise it showed a prostitute with very big breasts. We laughed when we thought of all the guests who saw it but didn't make any comment about it.
My mother wanted to take a picture of us so we made stupid faces, but my mother took the picture when my twin stopped wincing, leaving me alone with a stupid look on the picture.
Ah, family life...
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