Yesterday, when I mentioned the guy who interrupted my footlong chowing session at Subway with an unwanted strip show, I had to dig through my archives for the post. It took a while, as I’d archived my posts by the month. As I originally lived in Victoria for about four years, I had to sift through about forty months before finally finding the entry, and… it was underwhelming. If you wish to be underwhelmed, I can email it to you.
During my journey through the past, I uncovered some doozies. I spit out my tea when I read, “Has anybody noticed how it’s the bitchy girls who like Winnie the Pooh?”
Past me slays Now me.
The throwback post I’m sharing today isn’t about Winnie the Pooh or bitchy girls, but my transition from having a chaotic roommate to being the chaotic roommate.
Prelude: Danica was the original roommate and my reason for moving to Victoria in 2004. Danica had been my online friend for about three years: she was one of the many who had a blog. (Yes, kids, blogging used to be the bee’s knees.) In one of Danica’s posts, she announced that she was looking for a roommate. I casually commented, “Find me a job, and I’ll move.”
I’d just moved back to Vancouver after a year and a half of living in Calgary but was having trouble finding a job. When Danica, whom I had never met in-person, replied urging me to come… all over [her] tits! (Not her actual response to my comment, but it was something she said to me on an alarmingly regular basis.) I just went for it. That’s how I ended up moving to Victoria: opportunity knocked, and I answered, not knowing what I was getting myself into.
Back then, one of the most common questions people had for me was, “Are you a UVic student?” Why else would a sensible young lady move to Victoria, the city of the newlywed and nearly dead? To live with a hussy who she met off the internet, of course!
Anyway, Danica made her exit from Victoria about two years later. Her replacement was yet another online friend/fellow blogger, Rose. Danica had trained me well: it was my turn to sully a roommate.
November 6, 2006
What better way to open a post than with some hot cock on cock action?
When I first moved into this place, it was filled to the brim with cock. Danica used to work at a sex shop where she would adopt the defective dildos which would have been otherwise thrown out and give them a place to hang out here. She also managed to get her hands on penii confetti, stiffy swizzle sticks, and even wang gift wrap. There were so many phallic items in here that when my grandparents dropped by my old workplace for a surprise visit a week after I settled here, I had to run to Danica’s work at lunchtime to beg her to de-cock our place before my grandparents’ arrival.
Now, all it takes to de-cock the place is a brush of the hand. The first day Rose was here, I found my needle felted cock on the floor behind the tv and asked her if she had anything to do with it. Sure enough, she had knocked it off the tv to protect her mom from the thought that her dear daughter was now living with some crazy penis obsessed girl.
I’m not looking into draping the place with penis again, but it desperately needs more decorations. My room is satisfactorily festive, although it could use a picture above the fireplace, preferably of Jesus, so that he can watch over me as I sin. Check this out, Jesus: Premarital sex! Watch me as I sleep ’til noon! Look at me, I’m cursing on my blog!
Currently, it’s the living room that’s low on decorations. In addition to the modest assortment of cocks, Rose has supplied the living room with candles and a stuffed parrot. It’s a good start, but since I’ve lived here for much longer than she has, I should really be contributing more. This is why I have picked up painting the picture I started on 4 years ago, again.
It looks like an innocent enough painting… until you cross your eyes, then you’ll see delicious cock in mouth action.