Apparently when you have a blog and you haven’t blogged for ages you’re meant to start off your next blog with something insincere like “oh, I must be the worst blogger in the world.” God, imagine if you were the worst blogger in the world. What kind of person would that make you? The saddest of the sad, is my guess.

I’m only writing this blog now because Hayden begged me to. He’s kinda cute when he begs and I like begging in a man. Also he agreed that we could do this thing I’ve been trying to get him to do for ages, but only if I write my blog first. (Heh heh, is he in for a surprise later tonight.)

Anyway, Hayden says that if I get my frustrations out through the page then I’m an easier person to deal with in real life. What a load of crap. Hell, I’d have to write about a million blogs to get out all the frustration I’m feeling right now.

I think living in Cheryl’s House of Happiness is starting to get to me. Once upon a time, round here, the most romantic couple in the house used to be Van and Munter – now it’s like a friggin’ Twenty-four Hour Party People love in.

(For some reason I never really counted Mum and Dad as a ‘couple’ because, you know, they were Mum and Dad. And now they hate each other’s guts and he’s prisoner number God knows what, down at Waikeria. I haven’t gone to see him yet. I hate all that. Mind you, he hasn’t exactly called or written.)

Let’s start with Mum. She and Judd (she keeps trying to get us to call him ‘Wayne’ – like that’s going to happen and, quite frankly, given the choice between ‘Judd’ and ‘Wayne’ I’d go for ‘Judd’ in a heartbeat. Grandpa uses neither, preferring to use whatever pig-related salute that springs to mind)…

Where was I? Got a bit side-tracked there.

Oh yeah, Mum and Judd. You’d think they have no right to be happy, given that he’s out on bail, facing several years inside on some pretty impressive dishonesty charges. And we all know how much they love cops in prison – repeatedly and from behind, I believe about covers it.

But they’re blissfully happy. Mum is actually (by her standards) behaving like a halfway decent person – which, of course, makes her insufferable in a whole new way. It’s like she actually loves this guy – which is just disturbing.

Pascalle and Dr. Bruce are much more fun – if only for the fact that their entire relationship is based on a lie. Watching Pascalle pretending to be all virginal is, sometimes, is just too hilarious for words. Also the sexual tension that is building within her will be fantastic for my film – the erotic film she needs to star in to pay for the operation to be a virgin again, as I do so enjoy reminding her at every given opportunity. By the time the camera rolls she will be completely gagging for it and will ravish her co-stars like crazy. Film-making magic!

Mind you, apart from that Pascalle is the total love-struck nauseating, simpering girlfriend package. She’s forever on my computer, going to all these websites about how to be the best Muslim woman in the world. Even worse, she then feels the need to share what she’s learnt with me while I’m trying to work on my script. If love means that your brain goes all soft (or even softer than usual, in Pascalle’s case) then I’m glad I avoided that particular genetic deformity.

And as for Van and Aurora, if I have to watch them spontaneously suck face and feel each other up while we’re all trying to eat dinner or watch TV or go to the bathroom… Even if I have to witness them groping each other just one more time, I swear I will cut off both their lips and Van’s dick to make sure it never happens again. Even Grandpa has got bored watching them pash so he keeps himself pretty much to himself, hiding out at the Janet Frame Old Folk’s Prison, with his vintage porn magazines to keep him company, that’s how bad it’s got round our house.

Thank God that amongst all this happiness there is still Jethro, Mr. No Mates. At least I can still torment him about being this sad wanker who no-one wants to sleep with. He likes to pretend he doesn’t care, that he’s got all these new work things – flash new clients and shit – to worry about, so he doesn’t need a woman. But I know he’s lying – and a wanker, because that’s all that is left for him to do. And that makes me feel better.

Okay, I’ve done my duty, I’m not the worst blogger in the world and I’m bored with writing this now.

Now I have to go and give Hayden his surprise.