The universe takes away and the universe provides. That’s a simple enough concept, right? Unfortunately, as with many things in this universe, the taking and the giving can often be imbalanced and, therefore, extremely unfair.

For example, just recently, the universe took away the baby who would have grown up to be my little half-brother. It would have been great having an offspring younger than me in this family, because then my Mum would have a whole new life-form to obsess over and terrorize for many years to come, which would, in turn, have meant that she’d be too busy to hassle me as much as she currently does. This would have been brilliant, but – of course – the universe conspired to take Tama away.

And what did the universe give us in return?

Eric.

Thanks a bunch, universe.

You know the phrase “hanging round like a bad smell”? That pretty much describes Eric to a tee in that he is more than just a little bit pongy; and he is currently infesting our house, moaning about spending three years in Palmerston North – to which I say ‘if you hated Palmerston North so much, why did you stay there for three years? Why not move to Masterton or Tokoroa after a year, if Palmerston North offended you so? Was someone keeping you prisoner there, Eric?”

But no, apparently it’s all our fault Eric is a miserable old git with nowhere to live, which means every time I turn around there he is, moaning.

When I was a kid I set fire to his beard a few times – just for a laugh.

I’m not above going there again, is all I’m saying now.

Heading down to Wanganui tomorrow. My first tangi. Yay, something I’ve been meaning to cross off my Must Do list. Not.

Maybe we can all drop in on Michael Laws while we’re down there – he seems like a welcoming kind of guy.

It’s very quiet here.

I’m the only one up, I’m pretty sure. Just sitting here, on the floor, with the only light coming from the laptop screen; watching Jane sleep.

It is too quiet here and there are people who should be here who aren’t here. There are people missing and people who are in the wrong place. Things are all mixed up.

It is too quiet.

I should go back to bed, but I might sit here a while longer.

In amongst all the usual screaming and shouting and dealing to little slutty slapper wannabes that is life at Casa West, something happened this week that has got me thinking. Aaron Spiller suddenly morphed into John Cusack and proclaimed his love for Pascalle by making a dick out of himself on our front lawn, recreating (in his own tragic way) the scene in the Cameron Crowe film Say Anything where John makes a dick of himself over Ione Skye, by playing Peter Gabriel to her on his ghetto blaster to prove his love to her – and, presumably, to prove his willingness to make a dick of himself over a girl.

Now Aaron Spiller needs very little help in making a dick of himself at the best of times, but this was a special moment even by his standards. Yet, oddly, I found myself moved at Aaron’s futile gesture. And I started wondering about devotion.

Aaron must know, deep in his heart of hearts, that he will never get to plough Pascalle’s green fields. Surely he must realise that even Pascalle will never be drunk enough or desperate enough or psychologically fucked up enough to hook up with him. Even Aaron Spiller cannot be so stupid or deluded that he can’t see this simple fact, written in letters of fire a hundred metres high, right in front of his little ferret face.

Yet he still keeps trying. He still finds new and more desperate ways to shed what little dignity he has left, to try and prove to her how much he loves her; how devoted he is to her.

Devotion. I simply do not get it. Attraction I can just about do – but if that ends up going nowhere or if the guy turns out to be a bullshit poseur who prefers barely legal skanks to actual women, then give it up and move on. I realise that when you’re Aaron Spiller, that your opportunities for getting laid are very limited, but why keep knocking on the same door when there’s no way, without the aid of industrial quantities of Rohypnol, that that door is ever going to open for you?

But he keeps trying and, again in an odd way, I kind of admire that – and not just because it drives Pascalle psycho. Go my little lab rat! You keep trying you little fucked in the head ginga! You show the world than when you’re devoted enough you can never be too mental!

Mind you, as much as I’m in Aaron’s corner, cheering him on, I do hope I’m in the room when Aaron learns Pascalle is rooting a cop.

Big Fuck Off Smack in the Face 1 Devotion 0.

I will not be dictated to, in any way, shape or form. Financially, physically, emotionally; I do not need anyone else to ‘complete’ me or any of that fucking nonsense.

This is my Declaration of Independence.

I, Loretta West, am happy to be alone and doing my own thing.

I do not need a man or any other lesser being in my life.

In fact, the whole fucking male species can cease to exist as far as I care.

And while they’re at it they can take Judd’s annoying little slapper sister with them. Deleesha? What sort of name is that for one human to give another human? She’s been in the house two minutes and already she’s driving me up the fucking wall.

I sense a slapping coming on.