What's my favourite pastime?

So I like having fun by myself.

.....don't. It's not that kind of fun.

What I'm really trying to say is I like to spy on people and try to figure out if they can see me spying on them or not. I know what you're thinking, "Odi, why are you such a creepy mofo! Why do you look at random people for your favourite pastime? Why do you keep people's hairs in your room?" But all I can reply to is I find these things interesting.

Because you see, I live in a two-storey place and people don't know if it's actually a residency. They used this place back then as an office because the first floor is a mechanic shop, but apparently it didn't work out so they decided to turn this into a lively and charming apartment. And people often times didn't believe it when I said to them I live at the garage, so I use that power to "oversee" people, more likely drunk ones since they are entertaining to watch. It's like being a police officer!

Something's wrong there. Two-storey height?

Much....better?

That looked like the fashion police instead of a really strict one. "STOP RIGHT THERE CRIMINAL SCUM, THOSE BOOTS ARE VIOLATING THE LAWS OF ATTRACTIVENESS." Anyway, you can clearly see my mad photoshop skills right there.

But yeah, these people, these drunk people are entertaining to watch because if you turn off all the lights and starts shooting potatoes with the spud gun (the small toy one, not the actual 400 gigatons ones) at them, they wouldn't have a clue on where it came from! You can see them freaking out like ants whose scent trail has been ruined by perfume. Yes, that's another favourite pastime of mine... And by favourite I mean weird, now that I think of it. How do I even get friends?

Anyways, this post is going downhill. I can see now why people aren't attracted to me at all. I hope you had a good day and I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Promising things that will never be fulfilled

Hi!

So I just realized that I have been keeping a good track on my blog, which is a post daily and so I'll try to make this into a normal thing.

If you don't get this picture, we can't be friends.

But if you don't like hearing my stories every single day then I wouldn't disagree- my parents do the same thing as well. "Hey dad guess what happened at school today! Dad, why are you ignoring me? Why are we inside a forest? Why are you walking so fast?"

Doesn't have any side effects at all. *twitches*

But anyways this is just a quick update to tell everyone what my plans are for the future of this blog. It involves me, the garbage truck, and the recycle bin. I'll see you guys tomorrow.

Hanging up?!

Now I don’t know about other people (who are probably saner and less inhuman as I am) but I could never stand talking in the phone for more than a minute. It’s so bad though, sometimes I could never focus on what the person on the other end of the line was talking about since I would constantly ponder on when that person will realize that I am not interested in talking for more than one minute over the phone and decides to hang up. It’s almost like how my parents treat me actually. They just keep being silent until I realize they’re not interested and I’ll eventually go away. Sometimes I even think that my existence in their life are being unacknowledged. “Mum, I saw a wild snake today!” “Dad, I got beaten by the school bully this morning!” and no answer.

Anyways, so what happened today is that a person from the real estate called me and did a background check which took about fifteen-twenty minutes of my already boring life. I couldn’t really figure out why they need to do a background check on me since I am basically a 20 year old Indonesian man with a South American slash Middle Easterner slash Indian face. Wait, I think that had just explained itself. They might think that I will bomb the house or something like that. I don’t know, but racism sucks. The area that I’m applying for is called St. Peters(burg), which is near to this crazy hippie-hipster area called Newtown. Maybe the real estate thought that if they approve me then I will bomb Newtown to the ground, and then the hipsters and hippies will roam the inner area of Sydney instead, replacing the businessmen & women and therefore collapsing the economy of Australia. And it’s all because of me. 

I feel somewhat special now. 

If being marked as a terrorist is considered making yourself feel special sort-of-thing. 

Anyway, I don’t know.

But yeah, do you feel the same way when you have to talk to people longer than you expected it to be? Let me know in the comments section if you do, because I would love to read it. Actually I want to know as well if you have weird or unusual phone etiquette or rules as well. See, my one rule to talking over the phone is the no talking for more than one minute rule, except if it’s something important, like phone sex. Which, frankly enough always takes about the same time too... or sometimes even under.