My Duck Fetish Housemates and Where it All Went Wrong (Part One of Three)

About two years ago when I first moved to Dublin City I was really excited. I had this vision of a New-York Sitcom type life. After spending my formative years in bog holes and blackberry bushes, in the back end of nowhere, I was ready. This was going to be a new beginning and I tried as usual to have realistic expectations.

But Dublin was pricey and I soon realised that there is no such thing as the dream apartment. There is the apartment that will have you and you accept gratefully whether or not the toilet works and the ceiling is caving in. So I ended up in a teeny tiny shared room. There was barely space to stand between my bed and my roommates.

The second issue arose when I tried to unpack. It soon became clear that by Dublin standards I was something of a hoarder and there just wasn't enough space to accommodate all my belongings.

But this was not going to deter me. I decided to befriend my new housemates. After all this was never going to be like the TV sitcoms if we didn't get to know each other. I was living with what appeared to be a lovely Brazilian couple and a very shy girl who barely spoke. So at our first house-breakfast I attempted to make conversation.

I assumed of course that they just weren't morning people. Having grown up with my mother not being able to piece a sentence together until the coffee kicks in , I wasn't surprised.

However, my quiet roommate made it rather clear that they simply weren't chatty folk. That afternoon I was presented with the official house rules.

 A most welcoming list of laws to abide by.

The list had at least twenty rules varying in levels of normalcy. Being my usual tactful self I tried to make light of the situation.

Needless to say nobody was impressed.

I made a few more light-hearted and sarcastic remarks.

 That fell heavy on what was a very silent audience.

After that I got a bit nervy. I tried asking about the girl I'd replaced and why she had left. But my shy roommate didn't offer much in the way of useful information.

Despite my misgivings it seemed like it was too early to give up on the living arrangement yet. After all I'd only been in Dublin a week and they were just quite people. I could cope with silence and perhaps the awkward feeling would subside. I was going to make the best of it. That was until I discovered a weird and disturbing thing. One day I came home earlier than planned and heard duck noises coming from the Brazilian couples room.

At first I thought they might just be watching a documentary. But is soon became clear that this was not the case. I hoped then that perhaps this was a once-off. But a few days later, when it happened again, I realised I'd moved in with some rather unusual people.

Grand Theft Tricycle by a Three Year Old

When my brother was three he realised that he could get whatever he wanted by sitting on his bottom and screaming very loudly in public spaces. He would refuse to move from wherever he was sitting until he was bought whatever his heart desired. My parents often gave in just to stop people staring at them like they hit their baby. But then my mother had enough.

My father was not impressed by this suggestion.

With that he decided to take us all toy shopping. Rather than have to deal with us all in the shop, he left my sisters and I sulking in the car. 

He then marched into the toy store with my brother trailing behind him.

It wasn't long before my brother spotted something he liked the look of. A small tricycle. 

He threw his usual tantrum.

My father probably thought he'd solved the mystery of child-rearing when my brother stopped crying immediately. 

But my brother was quite a conniving child. He took a different tact. 

He hopped straight on the tricycle and started cycling towards the exit. 

My father didn't even notice as my brother pedaled furiously towards escape. He made his way under the till barriers and out through the automatic doors. 

From the car we could see him emerging. 

We glowered as he made his way towards the car his arms outstretched in glory. 

We were more than a little annoyed. 

Then we noticed the giant man sprinting after our brother trying to catch him. It was the toy store's security man. 

My father was following sheepishly behind and looked mortified when he was presented with my brother. 

Needless to say we excitedly recounted the tale to my mother. 

The next time we went to the toy store they had implemented some new security measures. 

Our Drunken Mistake of a Toothfairy

When I was growing up we had an issue every time we lost a tooth. Our tooth fairy NEVER remembered to come.

Now my mother did her best to explain the situation. She told us elaborate tales of our alcoholic tooth fairy that couldn't quite get it together.

She suggested I draw huge signs to tape all around the house so the tooth fairy couldn't miss them. No matter how ridiculously drunk she got. So I spent hours drawing huge posters to direct the tooth fairy.

But the tooth fairy still forget. The more the tooth fairy forgot the more my mother explained.

I was so fascinated that I wanted to meet this drunken mess of a fairy. So as any child would do I lay in wait.

Which inevitably lead to a certain amount of surprise.

and of course the only logical conclusion.

The ONLY Circumstances in which Facebook Food Pictures are COMPREHENDABLE

You've probably garnered from the title that I'm not a fan of the old food picture. It's not that I have anything against it. It's just that a picture of your friday beer or sunday mojito isn't exactly what I signed up to facebook for. Not that these are the most offensive of the food/drink related posts people seem to spend most of their lives composing. That would probably be the pictures of coffee in styrofoam cups.

Then there's the issue of the would-be-chefs. That post pictures of everything they make, whether or not it looks particularly edible seems to be of little importance.

Another highly disturbing development is pictures of just completely boring and regular food items. The sort of food items that don't exactly sashay across the plate, let alone make a riveting photograph.

I concede that I'm a little grumpy. There was a lot of pictures of nonplussed vegetables on my facebook news feed over the last few weeks. So I propose the following exceptions to the cause, in all of the following cases I think it would be both charming and relevant to post a picture of your food. Otherwise it might be best to just refrain. 

1) The most obvious thing to take a picture of is food that decides to fight back. Whether this is a chicken squirting hot oil in a lemons eyes or a piece of spinach finally having its way with popeye.

2) If strange relationships develop between your food. Please feel free to report them. 

3)  If your food gives you magnificent and secret powers, I would like to know. 

4) Any ridiculously talented food is also a welcome piece of news. 

5) Also food that is participating in torrid love affairs. 

You Know You're Ancient Before Your Time When Your Halloween Party Goes Like This...

My housemate decided to throw a house party for Halloween. This threw me into a huge state of turmoil. Not only did this thwart all plans I had of eating my weight in chocolate while watching bad horror movies but it also meant I had to decide who to invite.

After realising that most of my friends are as socially inept as me, I decided it was best to avoid any situation in which they were forced to mingle with people who have mastered the art of small talk.

That's right I made the decision not to know anybody at a party in my own house. At the time it seemed like the wisest move. Now there was only a costume to worry about. We went shopping for odds and ends. The only problem with this is that I hate shopping. It makes me feel ill and dizzy and hungry. I lose the will to live and become easily influenced. Which is exactly what happened. 

At the time the lady bird costume built for your average five year old seemed hilarious. But on the night it just looked hideous and ridiculous. 

I went downstairs to show my housemate how silly I looked. I found her looking like some sort of beautiful sugar coated princess. 

Then my other housemate came downstairs looking exactly like she always looks when staying in for the night. She'd turned herself into a giant fluffy dressing gown and when I asked what she was supposed to be I found out that attending our house's house party had been a choice all along. 

It was too late though. Guests started arriving and I was clearly dressed up to participate. As people filed in I noticed a recurring pattern in their outfits. They almost looked like they weren't dressed up at all, with the exception of some subtle head pieces.

I sat sociably in a corner watching the party slowly heat up. It wasn't long before our sitting room became some sort of strange photo-shoot. Full of laughter and if something wasn't funny enough to merit actual laughter people would just flick their hair and say "LOL." 

I was horrified and turned to the other semi-anti-social sitting on the outskirts beside me and voiced my concern. I mistakenly thought she would be equally disturbed. 

At that point I gave up on the party.

I skulked off to my room. Where I had more important and pressing matters to handle. 

I spent hours organising my drawers and making lists of things I needed to do. Eventually the party left our house to go and "LOL" elsewhere. My housemate who'd also been hiding in her room, emerged to investigate the damage. She came to me looking ever so slightly terrified. 

We spent five minutes peeping at the comatose teenager sprawled across our couch. 

We flicked the light switches on and off until he snorted and revealed he was indeed alive. We then decided to clean up some of the crazier things he had done in his drunken stupor. 

After cleaning raw eggs off the floor, we decided it was best to go to sleep and leave the boy sleeping off his condition. The next morning we were all having breakfast and he had vanished. There was a note left where he had been sleeping. 

At this point we realised that nobody had any idea who Jack or Stephen were. We sat sipping our tea in shock.