For several days now, I'd been thinking that Patrick and Caterina were a couple of lawless, bohemian rogues after I found, what appeared to be, a large jar of marijuana seeds in plain sight in the kitchen. There is enough here to start a pot plantation!
Turns out, they're just something called "lentils". I guess poor people eat them or something. Lame.
For those who don't know, my friend, Patrick, is an artist, and a talented one at that. I think it's fair to say both he and Caterina are art lovers. They have several friends who are artists and are frequently attending art openings. Over the years they've been together (most of them spent living in sin) Caterina and Patrick have built up quite a an art collection, in addition to Patrick's own works. I thought I would share with you a sampling of the multitude of pieces that adorn the walls of their tasteful home. Enjoy.
As I'm sure you've guessed, the last one is my favourite. So, just imagine being surrounded by all of this for two weeks and that will give you an idea of my present state of mind.
There is something about me that Caterina and Patrick know that not many other friends do. It’s not something I like to talk about. It’s not something anyone likes to talk about. I live with a fear, a phobia perhaps, which is so acute it affects nearly every facet of my life. My single greatest and deepest fear is: attack by stabbing robots.
My stabbing robot based anxiety first took root when I was a child. I stayed up late one night watching Showtime, fell asleep during Sleepaway Camp, and woke up to Short Circuit. Terrifying. Since then, I’ve never been able to separate the two films in my mind. Despite the improbability of the scenarios of either of those pictures, I have lived in constant fear of an impending demise administered by a slasher droid. Of course, my absolute worst fear is: [SPOILER WARNING] I befriend a lonely girl robot and have keep the US military from getting hold of her, but she turns out to be a transvestite boy robot who wants to stab me to death, and, all the while, Steve Guttenberg is falling in love with me. Nightmare.
Luckily, there is a nearly sure fire defense against this horror, which Caterina and Patrick were obviously aware of. For that, I am very grateful. As everyone knows, whether or not a psychotic robot is equipped with its own knives, it can easily be distracted by a display of knives, because they are greedy, knife-loving, killing machines. All you need to do is simply display an array of knives on the wall by fixing them to a magnetic strip; when a stabbing robot comes in the night, it will be drawn to the knives and then *SNAP*, it is held captive by the magnetic strip. In the morning, if you see a robot stuck to the wall, you call the robot authorities and then go out for breakfast, preferably Waffle House*.
No robots this morning. phew! We live to fight another day.
In these space age times of the year 2010, almost every normal person, who isn’t on welfare, owns a decent-sized flat-screen television. However, Patrick and Caterina are what some people might call “intellectuals”. Because of this, they have an antique television. It is impressively immense, if you are talking about total weight. Overall, it’s pretty crappy, with no surround sound and just a puny 30” tube as an excuse for a screen. In a feeble attempt to hide the shittiness of their TV, they surround it with "art" and make it wear a top hat. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but I think I feel sorry for the TV.
And if the television wasn't bad enough, have a look at their stereo:
... I'm surprised they don't make it wear an ascot.
It is with a heavy heart and great sadness that I must inform you that “Biggy”, the large box of Big House Red (California Red wine), is no longer with us. Despite being rationed out to a meager 5 glasses a day, and even watered down with tequila, Biggy lost the struggle last night during one of the less funny episodes of the first season of “30 Rock”.
Per Biggy’s final request, his earthly shell, that beautiful cardboard exterior, will be recycled; and his organs have been graciously donated (removed and squeezed dry). Rest in peace, my friend. Words cannot describe how much you will be missed*.
*Especially since I still don’t have a car and the liquor store is like two miles away!
It seems that when Caterina told me she wanted me to "just relax and have a nice time" that didn’t include playing with her precious “Hair-do Harriet” toy-
...as she has clearly gone to all the trouble of hiding the magic wand from me*!
Just look at this shit -
You know, a DECENT PERSON would have just hidden the entire toy. Only a DEGENERATE SADIST would just hide the part of the toy that makes it work! It's as if she is saying, "Why, yes, yes I do have a Hair-do Harriet, and, no, no you can't play with her!" What a bitch.
*For anyone considering making the obvious, double entendre "magic wand" joke, just know this: I hate you.
This is something I’ve always suspected, but now I have irrefutable confirmation...
At any given time at least, AT LEAST 35% of the contents of Patrick and Caterina's refrigerator is comprised of dubious, ambiguous, mysterious, and frightening containers of Korean pastes. I think they are Korean - some kind of weird, Asiany, foreigny stuff anyhow.
And, just in case any of you Koreany, Asiany, foreigny speakers out there were thinking of deciphering any of these for me, let me assure you, I do not care.
My best friends, Caterina and Patrick, are away for two weeks on their honeymoon in Europe. While they're away, they've asked me to watch their house -
...and take care of their dog -
I was delighted to help them out… especially since I couldn’t be bothered to get them a wedding gift.
Shortly before they left, my car went into the shop, seemingly never to return. To make matters worse, the temperature here has been over 100 degrees* everyday. EVERY-GODDAMN-DAY. My total lack of car and the hateful weather conditions have left me prisoner in my friends’ house for a fortnight. With only a potentially murderous Chihuahua and a massive box of wine as my companions, I have been forced to confront the most intimate details of my best friends, as I become entrenched deeper and deeper into their disturbing world.Let this web log serve as a record of the depravity I was forced to endure in these, my final days… at their house. These are my findings.