Cribs

Hey you, you better be grateful. Have finally relented, due to a mixture of boredom and newfound privacy.

Hi and welcome to a special edition of Cribs. This is my second home away from home, the first being on-campus accommodation in UCD two years ago.


Hallway. Come in, come in. Let's skip the customary pretend shyness, shall we? Put your shoes up, we can't stand it when people leave them on the floor.


This is the cinema room. We like to entertain our guests here, and lounge on the extremely comfortable luxury leather sofas. Loving the Hari Raya colour scheme, I trust? We so love it. They're made from freshly-slaughtered virgin bulls, balls. Movies aren't movies at all without the kickass hundred-inch plasma flat screen, no? I'm sure you notice the hundreds of DVDs on the mantelpiece as well. We're real movie buffs, that we are. Yes, yes.


This is the formal dining quarter. We often have dinner parties of more than ten or so guests. This area also serves as storage space for the vacuum cleaner (you can see it sticking out). Smart usage of space, people. Waste not. The huge trolley on the right (you can see a sandwich maker on it) is our bar. We stock hundreds of different vintages there along with the usual spirits. As you can see, we spoil our guests to no end.


This is where the maid spends most of her time. We have a full-time live-in cook and housekeeper. We just fired her though, as you can see, she hasn't been throwing out the thrash. We'd show you the fridge, but it's empty as of now. Also due to the lazy maid. It was wise to let her go, very wise. Hrmm, yes.


This is where the magic happens. The magic almost always means the latest issue of Esquire and a toilet roll. Ha. Ha. When I'm not resting on the thousand-threadcount sheets, I like to pretend and pore over the numerous books and folders. I do so enjoy the intellectual image. It's hard work pretending, I assure you. The Vitruvian on the wall is authentic, it was a gift from Da Vinci's great-granddaughter. She was one fine piece of ass.


This is the shitter. Notice the unending supply of toilet rolls. The toiletries are not mine. I don't know who they belong to. As I exude insane amounts of machismo (it will blow your mind), I only use a bar of soap. Roar. Roar.


And finally, a tour of our palatial home will not be complete without my place of worship. This is the altar of David the gay squirrel. He's rather famous, I'm sure you've heard of him before. All hail, don't play play. Amen.

I'd like to show you to the garage, where my extensively pimped-out Range Rover, Porsche 911 Carrera GT3 and the 760Li are kept warm. But I uh, can't seem to find the keys right now. Yes, that's it. Can't bloody well seem to locate them buggers. Raincheck, then.

Right; that concludes the tour. I'd say thanks for coming, but I'm rather relieved that you're leaving. Ding ding dinggg.

***
Classes are starting on Tuesday. I actually am looking forward to it. Just want to get it all over with and fly home as soon as I can. The guys are arriving in a few days time. Very gay of me, but I really am looking forward to their arrival. And it's not just because of the fags and food they'll be bringing with them.

I actually miss you guys. Lonely, balls.

This entry was posted by tsh, on Wednesday, September 07, 2005. You can bitch back.