|Our housemate selection panel - we were a lot more low key this time around|
That scenario, both thrilling and unlikely in equal measure, was obviously my preferred option for filling the rent-paying-sized gap that sprang into our lives when Mick skipped town. Sadly, twas not to be.
If the Australian Olympic campaign and Everybody Dance Now have proven anything, it’s that throwing money at something doesn’t necessarily make it work. Neither will hype, stupid nicknames and revealing outfits. Thus we opted for the far more cost effective, and ultimately proven method of getting in a friend of a friend.
Marika is sweet, hard-working, and seems to take a lot of what I say completely seriously. With that in mind, I thought it might be time to reveal some of the fine print that comes with living at the Cliff.
Here are some of the sample clauses you may not have been shown Marika…
Sam Kekovich is our artist in residence
Yes, that is a mask of Sam’s face poking out from behind the couch. It adds character, and potentially freaks out home invaders at first glance. If ever there was a man to strike terror into the heart of burglars and casual guests, it is the always lurking Sam.
You may notice our Inspiration Board in the laundry. You may notice we get inspired by some unusual things. Like speed date rating cards, pap smear reminder notifications and the fact that every time I order take-out food over the phone people assume I’m a man.
Do you like penis maracas?
No? Then don’t look in the drawer of the little side board that contains all our take-out menus. I can’t tell you why they’re there, because I can’t quite remember. I only know that it makes complete sense.
Tea time is all the time
In a similar vein… Poncho hour is every hour
We live on a street of perpetual construction (and Some Dude Who Treasures His Leaf Blower So Much He Uses It Daily)
That’s why we scheduled the house viewing for the builder’s traditional knock-off time (midday, the point at which all potential to sleep has definitively died).
We have a Seasonal Domestic Vuvuzela problem
Speaks for itself really.
Our yard is a barren wasteland for a reason
Abandon hope all ye who dream of planting stuff there.
While I’m at it I’ll provide a glossary of terms that will be thrown about liberally at the Cliff.
Speaking Fluent Painefull
Freshie – cup of tea, it assumes you are finished with your current tea, it also assumes you are perpetually in the act of finishing a tea (common usage: “Would you like a Freshie?”)
Hand-warmer – cup of tea, seasonal greeting most strongly associated with winter in The Fridge (common usage: “Do you need a Hand-warmer?”)
Lawyer-Face – the runner up in the most recently finished edition of Masterchef. To clarify I am notably bad at pairing names and faces, which means The Cliff has an unusual set of nicknames for anyone that graces reality television (see also: Cry-Face, Crazy Eyes & Jamie Lee Curtis) and indeed, my life
Sup Playa – a greeting, salutations
Street Gang – the title granted to the group of children who hover outside our driveway, occasionally darting into oncoming traffic
The Fridge – lounge room, seasonal, typically associated with the living area’s ability to be colder than the outdoors in winter (hence ‘Tea time is all the time’ and ‘Poncho hour is every hour’)
Shower Jumper – the brief period post shower when you become stupidly convinced that The Fridge isn’t really that cold. It is, you’re just wearing a Shower Jumper
The Hoff – our oven, so labelled for its moody and unpredictable nature (and the distinct possibility it’s drunk)
Screaming Brothers – they live next door to us. Enjoy
Inferno – a café that isn’t actually called ‘Inferno’, I just call it that, and I don’t know why, and I can’t remember its actual name. We tend not to go there anymore – it’s too confusing
That’ll get the new girl started, I don’t want to overwhelm her with too much information.