A Matter of Calling

Title reference: "A Matter of Magic" by Patricia Wrede

***

Tate's mama, who's a very progressive lady for her age (no offence meant, ma'am!), has gotten obsessed with talking to all her children daily... And there's like... 8 of them! All grown up and just as (cough) dumb (cough) as Tate is. Guess it's genetic... or they've all taken after their dad, whom I've had the "pleasure" to meet only once. Lovely guy, I tell you. He told me I speak like a "bloody French" and that   my English is just as good as that of a "Welch shepard"! Guess he didn't like the latter as well. The "more" the "better", huh?

Anyway, Tate's mum has done some on-line research (Yeah, that lady surfs the Internet like a pro!) and came out with a great plan to stay in touch with her kids.

Prepaid cards.

The idea behind them is pretty simple, really. You get to make cheap international calls, without paying any additional maintenance costs. Users only pay a few minutes of the call... and you can access the service from anywhere! Prepaid cards are used by travellers, tourists to call their friends...

Mums who feel the need to check on their "lost sheep" children.

Best part is, your cheap international calls are also accompanied by lower rates and better voice quality. Prepaid cards, that use Voice over Internet Protocol (VoIP for short... though it has no ring to it what so ever!) software, provide a coherent communication. And more than this, prepaid cards work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Which is great, as long as it's not your mum, who's gotten possession of one of those "devil" cards. Yesterday, Tate's phone started ringing at around 10:30 pm, with the most ridiculous ringtone ever ("Mama's Song" by Carrie Underwood... I mean, come on, Tate, man! That's so.. fairy, if you get my meaning!), and got us both really embarrassed! Anyway, he picked up, accidentally putting the phone on "Speaker"... And all everyone in the pub heard was:

"Tate Matthew Rory (what kind of a surname is "Rory"?!), you're in a lot of trouble, young man!"

Luckily, by then Tate managed to stop the "Speaker" and get out of the pub, but still... I don't think we'd ever be able to show our faces there again! I mean... come on!

Still, do you know who was the most distressed person after that fiasco? Lulu, Tate's now official girlfriend, that's who. Why?

"Lulu Rory?!" She exclaimed in terror. "I sound like a cartoon character!"

And you act like one, honey... And you act like one.

The Hundred Thousand Calls

Title reference: "The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms" by N. K. Jemisin

***

So, during the weekend Tate's relationship with Lulu went from serious to "O-Hell-that's-serious" (yes, how it could happen in a couple of days is a mystery beyond me!) mode, which means that she calls him 15 times a day, for whatever pops in that beauty-stylist brain of hers! Ever wondered what beauty-stylists think about? What? Molecular Biology?! Tate, have you listened to a word Lulu says? Hair-dying is not biology! Geez! Anyway, so yesterday, while Tate was showering in my bathroom, due to the fact that he lost his key and couldn't get into his apartment before his landlord came back from the countryside on Monday (today), Lulu rang his phone. Once. Twice. Three times. By the fifth time I was ready to start pulling at my hair, so I did the inevitable...

I picked up the phone, pressed "Speak" and said "Hello?"

Stunned silence. Confusion, that you could feel even through the cell-phone. Then.

"Is this Tate's phone?"

No, it's my aunt Molly, picking up flowers in her garden. O, my! "Yes", I said in a neutral tone. "Marlowe here."

I swear to you, I could hear her thinking and trying to remember who the hell I was. No luck there. "Um... is this Tate's phone?"

O, Jesus! "Tate's in the shower." And these are 4 words I never imagined I would have to say. To anyone or for any reason. "I'll tell him you called..."

"Wanna' hear a joke?" She asked out of the blue, making me almost choke on the gum I was rotating through my mouth.

"Excuse me?!"

"I called to tell Tate a joke... Wonna' hear it?" Did I really? I'm fairly certain that the correct answer was "no" or "Hell no!"... But still I sighed and said "Sure". Now she got excited!

"What's pink and fluffy?" She asks, her voice giddy and filled with laughter. Yes, I know this joke. I hate this joke. Still, I try to be polite and play dumb, saying.

"I dunno..."

"A pink fluff!" Then she starts laughing like a maniac, which makes me think that she is not only not-so-hot, but also not-so-smart as well. Luckily, 2 can play this game.

"What's blue and fluffy?" I ask in a dry voice. Puzzled silence. Poor thing, I believe she was completely out of her league on this one! So I provide the answer. "Pink fluff holding it's breath."

More awkward silence. Then. "I don't understand... Was that supposed to be funny?"

O, why bother? "Forget it", I say and let out a deep sigh. "Tate should be out in 5. Call him then!"

We hung up and I vowed to myself that I will never, ever pick up Tate's phone again. Unfortunately, Lulu had other plans. Today, this morning to be precise, she called Tate at about 8 am... And then asked him to put me in for a conference call, so that we could all "chat"? I mean... Seriously? Of course Tate, being Tate, woke me up, instead of telling her that she's out of her mind... Then the conference call had to be put in motion. And, naturally, none of them had any idea how to do it. So, sleepy or not, I had to take them through all the basics and (what a shock!) it turned out that they both needed extra time then most people to get it!

Talk about soulmates!

So, what do you do to add a third party to your call? Well, for one thing, the first receiver should hold on to the call for a minute (that was Tate). Meanwhile, Lulu had to search for the "Menu" button on her phone and after finding it, which was no easy task, press it to choose an option on the screen of her phone.

I think by this time, they were both really confused, but still I kept on explaining. Go through the options. Select "New Call" and a blank dialling screen will appear. Enter the second phone number and add the person to your conversation. Now, press the "Call" or "Send" button. Then wait for the 3rd party (me) to answer... Here, did it! Now press "Join" and the three of us can talk to each-other. Yes, it's a dream come true! I can talk to Tate over the phone, while he's lying on the couch in the other room. O, my...

I'm honestly scared what will happen if those 2 ever decided to make international conference calls! That will either be the end of my intelligence...

...or the end of the world as we know it!

Eat, Pray, Clean

“Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman’s Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia” by Elizabeth Gilbert

***

So, last night, as me and Tate were hanging in the pub getting boozed, we had the strangest of occurrences happen. A hot girl walked to our table and asked if we wanna’ hang out with her and her not-so-hot friend Lulu, who, apparently, was named after her mum’s favorite singer - Lulu (for a reference, see the movie “To Sir with Love”. There’s a 99.9% chance that your mum has it in her private collection!). Naturally, we said “Sure!” and joined the ladies at their table. Secretly, we exchanged messages and Tate agreed to serve as my “wing-man” for the night. Yes, he did a lousy job at it! Remember when I said that he reminds me of Ted from “How I Met Your Mother”? Well, I changed my mind! Tate’s no Ted! He’s a 100% Marshall! (And if you’ve followed the series, you would know what that means!).

The conversation was kind of dead from the starting point, except for Tate telling the o so clichéd muffin joke…

“So there’s these 2 muffins in an oven.

They’re both sitting, just chilling and getting baked.

And one of them yells “God Damn, it’s hot in here!”

And the other muffin replies “Holy Crap, a talking muffin!”

…which neither of the o not so bright ladies got, without additional explaining. Then Tate’s “amazing” wing-man abilities kicked in and if we’d been bored before, now we all had a reason to be embarrassed as well! Luckily, Lulu’s friend (who’s name I can’t remember for the life of me!) was naive enough to fall for his tricks, so before you could say “silly Sally wanna’ rally” (yes, Tate thought that was “the coolest!”) I was heading home with hot chic, while he stayed behind with not-so-hot chic. Sadly, as it usually happen, “hot” did not go hand in hand with “smart”, “interesting” and “pleasant”. On the contrary, really. Whatever-her-name-is could put you to sleep just by opening her mouth. And it was a big mouth!

Anyway, it turned out she’s a maid who does cleanings services (no, not the woman from the corner! Not a maid, people!). And whose idea of pillow-talk involves “amazing” cleaning facts (um… what?) and “not-so-amazing” cleaning facts (again… um, what?). So, you wanna’ know how she tried to set the mood? I’d take you through the process, step by step:

1. Stripping her coat off <-> amazing cleaning fact the 1st: your kitchen is the dirties place in your house. Filthy! Apparently, your sink is dirtier than your toilet, unless of course you neglected to flush. Bacteria are everywhere and if you wanna’ get rid of them, don’t just use kitchen spray like a weapon! Spray the dirty surfaces, then watch TV for 15-20 minutes, then give the surface a good scrub, before wiping it with a clean cloth. Yes, if you’re still awake, you know exactly how I felt!

2. Sipping wine, while playing with her hair <-> amazing cleaning fact the 2nd: your sofa (we were sitting on it!) s a breeding ground for dust mites, particles and microscopic allergy-causing specimen. Professional sofa cleaning or a dedicated afternoon hoovering session is required to get rid of these. The Victorian bashing of household furnishings with a feather-duster is also helpful here. Imagine all those stray hairs and little particles of dead skin leaving your home. The thought is positively uplifting. And definitely mood-killing!

3. Unbuttoning her shirt and letting her scarf fall down <-> amazing cleaning fact the 3rd: Most adults spend at least 8 hours per week cleaning, but when you have children that time will surely increase 4-5 times! (children?! who said anything about children?!) So, instead of wasting your time, do the efficient thing and hire a domestic cleaning company to do the dirty work for you! Who knows, you might even get the time to go to a bar! (Yes, none of that helped set the mood)

4. Playing “kisses and tickles” (which was a disaster altogether, because I don’t like being tickled and fell of the sofa!) <-> amazing cleaning fact the 4th (as if I cared, after hitting my head on the coffee table!): Club soda is amazing for cleaning emergencies! Apply club soda on your clothes ,or for sofa or carpet cleaning and gently dab away the stain with a clean cloth… Or just wrap ice in the cloth and press it against my temple! Ouch!

5. Unbuttoning my shirt (I just wanna’ go to bed!) <-> amazing cleaning fact the 5th: dirt comes form the outside! Take your shoes off when you enter the house… O, man, seriously? That was her grand finale?! No, keep your hands off me you… you…

As you’ve probably guessed already, nothing happened. I’m-so-boring-it-makes-you-wanna’-die girl left with a pout and a “I know where you live!” threat (no, nothing psychotic about it! Nothing… Man, she’s creepy!) and I went to bed, with a big smile on my face and an even bigger bump on my head!

This morning Tate called me to say he “scored” with not-so-hot chic. Apparently, listening to Tate That and Lulu’s “Relight My Fire” does miracles for a man’s ego! I told him I’m glad he had fun and hope he and Lulu keep seeing each-other. Just leave me out of it. I want nothing to do with Not-so-hot and Hot-but-crazy. Especially the latter. Seriously, if I ever need to do any cleaning again, I’d just hire professional cleaning services!

But 1st, I need to change the lock on my door. I seem to have lost my keys…

…and fear that hot-and-creepy might have found them in her purse!

The Cleaners & Mr. Marlowe

Title reference: “The Magicians & Mrs. Quent” by Galen Beckett

***

After the Sofocle-extravaganza, I thought it would be good for both Tate and I, if we sat down and discussed a few basic rules that would make living together if not great, then at least... bearable, on my part. So I lured my buddy with the promise of fried chicken, beer and nuts, and a much bigger TV than the one he currently has, and he willingly came... The poor lamb, walking into the wolf's lair. Or whatever the right expression was... Hanging with Tate would have an impact on your brain. He's like a dumber version of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the way he “feasts” on your brain... function, I mean function! Anyway, Tate came and he had a couple of his ”movies” with him, which won him a scold from me, that in return brought a smile to his face.

Note to self 1: Don't leave Tate alone with the TV. Or the DVD. Or the laptop. Basically, turn the electricity off when you leave. He doesn't know how to fix it anyway.

Tate kicked his shoes off, revealing a pair of mismatched striped socks, and jumped on the couch...

Note to self 2: Explain to Tate that jumping on the furniture, over and over and over again, is wrong and will simply not do. Being 3 years old is not a bad thing per se, but it's high time he took the next step and turned 4. O, geez!

...after which he grabbed the KFC box of chicken, opened it and started eating right there and then.

Note to self 3... O, forget it! Just write him a list... or make a cartoon on Power Point.

I brought us plates, set next to Tate, tickling his feet off the couch to make space for myself, and helped myself to some hot chicken and a glass of foamy beer. Umm, yummy! After I'd eaten a couple of chicken wings I coughed, to take Tate's attention off the TV screen, and jumped right on the topic.

Rules. Habits that we need to have to keep the house clean. And not kill each other in the process of adjusting to one-another's way of living.

Number one would have been “Take your shoes off”, but luckily Tate had figured that one out on his own and, as far as I knew, was sticking to it, so I did not bother mentioning it. Who knows? He might misunderstand me or something, and loose one of his few good habits.

Second on my (mental) list was the simple rule of “clean as you go”. You know, pick your dirty socks off the floor, put your dishes in the dishwasher, if you see something spilled go grab a towel, don't ignore it till it goes away. It never goes away!

Third one, and I admit that I, myself, have a hard time following this one, is to “develop a routine”. Designate a day for different chores, one day for the kitchen, one for the bathroom, etc. - if we stick to it, I'd get us both a cookie. My, how that lifted Tate's mood!

Number 4 - “Throw things away”! No, Tate, not at me or at the wall! That one took a bit longer to explain, but my buddy finally got it, while shoving yet another piece of chicken in his mouth, and gave me the “thumbs up”. The mere notion that Tate actually does pretty well in University is a fact that should worry us all!

Last rule I did not say out load, though in my book it fell under “really important!” - make Tate actually be involved in the cleaning! Not just pretend he's doing something, while searching for cleaning services in the paper.

Of course, by the time I'd finished explaining all the rules to Tate, I was already certain that the sooner we find a reliable cleaning services London company, and booked us an appointment, the better. Even if my buddy actually bothered to follow the rules, I highly doubted he'd last long! I give him a month, more or less.

After that it's “Freedom to all!”

And heaven to the domestic cleaning company!

Serves us right, when we're lazy!

And, yes, I did say “we”. There should be a reason why we're friends, right?

Strange Case of Dr. Marlowe & Mr. Cleaner

Title reference: “Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde” by Robert Louis Stevenson

***

Today I woke up to find that the microwave has decide to die on me, in a puff of smoke and the stench of burning… machinery or whatever, and after a call to my buddy Tate, and listening for a quarter of an hour his complaining about the crazy Mary Sue he met at the pub last night (a horror story I will save you!), he gave me the number of a repairman he knows. So I called the guy, who seemed to be really perplexed by the fact that he actually had a client, and he agreed to stop by first thing in the morning. Now, as good as that may sound, it ended up being too good to be true! You wonda’ why, mio amigo? I will tell you why!

First thing first, the bloke who Tate put me in contact with came much faster than I expected, which won him brownie points at first… But it was all downhill from there! The moment Mr… Whatever-his-name-is, walked into the house, he asked me if I had coffee, what it was, and if I would make him a cup. A big one. And strong, if I may. O, and with milk, sugar, cream… “Do you have whiskey? I love an Irish coffee in the morning…” Do I look like Martha-freaking-Stewart?! I understand the guy was in a rush to come fix the micro before work, but… come on!

Anyway, I said I do have whiskey and I will make him an Irish coffee, the good Samaritan I am. In that moment he got really excited and got that… greedy, if you know what I mean, expression on his face. The whole “Mine, my own, my precious” routine… Yeah, creepy! But the next moment he got a handle on himself… And proceeded to let himself into the bathroom. What?! Apparently he left home without doing that either, and was in such a hurry to fix the microwave that forgot to flash the toilet! Now, I’m not a woman, so I’m not that bothered by such things, but… Come on! Is that a contest or something? “I clean after your mess, and you clean after mine!” It might have been funny, if it wasn’t so tragic!

So, apparently from now on I will not rely on Tate for providing me with normal professional help! As the old saying goes “If you want something done, do it yourself!” Or, in this case, if you want a repairman, end of tenancy cleaning or carpet cleaning services, find them yourself!

And I’ve already come up with a few basic things you should look for, before picking a company!

1st one is to make sure that there are no hidden fees or something! When you call a carpet cleaning London company, ask how much it’s going to cost you, if they cancel jobs, postpone them and so on… Or you may end up as empty headed Tate, who hired a company to clean his apartment for £5 a room… Only to pay £150 at the end, as he did not take the time to read through all of the company’s brochure! Man, was he angry! But, at the end, who’s to blame? He can read, right?

2nd thing you should never do is pay in advance or let the company save you credit card information! It may sound like something no one in their right mind would do, but… You’ll be surprised! People are irrational beings! Or, in some cases, straight forwardly dumb!

Last, but not least, you should get an insurance! My landlord had a carpet in his house damaged by the “professionals” he hired to clean it, but there was no insurance, and it was his word against theirs. Who do you think got away clean-handed?

Bottom line is, do not go with the first company you see. Make some research.

And never, never, under any circumstances listen to your dumb, half-asleep friends, when they recommend a repairman to you!

Yes, Tate, I am talking about you!

Garbage Misdemeanors

Title Reference: “Divine Misdemeanors” by Laurell K. Hamilton

***

So I decided to change my residence, a.k.a. “Fort Marlowe”, for a bigger, better and brighter place that I'm still wondering if I'd be able to afford... So I'm keeping a big cardboard box and calling it “Fort Looser”, just in case! I mean, if I am to be kicked out of my new apartment in a couple of months, at least I'd go with a bang! Anyway, packing all of my lively possessions and moving out has proved to be a long and painful process, especially having in mind that my soon-to-be-ex-landlord wants me to leave the apartment as neat and clean as I found it. So, that means the spot on the ceiling has to go. And the dirt under the carper, table, sofa, bed... Man, that's a lot of dirt! I wonder how I've never noticed before...

Anyway, my friend Tate gave the brilliant idea to call an after builders cleaning company, as London has a lot of those! We started looking into it, over a beer and some Chinese, but were left feeling really frustrated by the discovery that finding a proper cleaning company may be tougher than it sounds.

Wanna' know why? I'd tell you anyway!

Frauds, man. Reading the Internet and some dude... Alfred... something's articles, we realized that “doing your homework”, so to speak, is essential to not getting cheated! Can you imagine that some companies would do everything from credit card fraud and property theft, to serious damage that would cost more money to repair, then I make in a month?! What kind of a world do we live in?! I know that “there's no honour among thieves” and we're all thieves in one way or another, but still... Cleaning frauds?! I still can't wrap my mind around it!

The most ridiculous advert that Tate found was about a company, taking only ₤8 to clean a room in your house! “Great”, I thought... Before we took a magnifying glass and red the small letters under the advert. You know what they said? (And I quote...):

Discount is only available to long-term customers, who'd used our company's services for at least 13 months.

Now, can you see this text? No! Great, cos' barely could I!

Another big disappointment was the rubbish removal company I called... They were supposed to come on Monday, but now it's Friday and they've already rescheduled 3 times... I mean, OK, I do realise that they have work and all, but come on... What happened to the whole “Customer's always right” thing and saying? I may have a couple more weeks, before I ave to be out of my current home, and I've already painted the cardboard box, but I was secretly hoping I wouldn't have to get acquainted with it's cold comforts and caress. O, that came out poetic! Been hanging too much around Tate, I guess!

Bottom line is, I'd have to do a lot more research before I find proper garbage removal and after builders cleaning companies, then I'd expected! It my not be the most exciting thing to do, but believe me...

Better be safe, then sorry!

Every Dead Carpet

 Title reference: "Every Dead Thing" by John Connolly

***

This weekend I had a party at home. Tate, my soon to be room-mate, made sure he invited over everyone he knew, both from work and the University. And, as it usually happens, all of our guests brought someone else with them. Cousins, brothers, sisters, friends & lovers. They all gathered to drink and dance and scream... And, unfortunately, to break and spill things. You know how wild those parties can get, don't you? Beer on the carpet. Wine all over the furniture. Chinese food in my bed... And for the life of me I can't remember how it got there! It's kind of like that old fairytale about the little bears. "Someone's eaten in my bed"... And they definetely weren't familiar with the concept of chewing with your mouth closed!

Anyway, after all the guests finally managed to drag themselves out of the house, some on two legs, other on four or three (it was an umbrella), me and Tate were left with the task of cleaning and putting everything back together. So, where do 2 guys with a heavy hangover find the inspiration to clean the spots off their carpet? Easy enough. You google carpet cleaning and see what will come out of it. The best thing to do is to go and call a carpet cleaning London company, as there is a wide assortment of them on the net and, from what I could gather, they really do make miracles.

2nd choice is to read one of those "Do it yourself" articles and hope that you'll be sober enough and smart enough to actually follow the instructions correctly and rub the spots off your good ol' carpet! Tate surfed the Net for half an hour and came up with an online article on how to remove spots off your carpet. Now, it really didn't say anything about beer, wine or Chinese, but hey - we're capable lands, so we'd manage with a little imagination! And if we don't...

Remember choice number 1?

Anyway, that o-so-useful article that Tate provided, before passing out on the couch, signified (yes, I do no more complicated words. What did you expect?) that there are 4 major carpet killers (hence the name of the post!). Surprisingly, it turned out that water is the first and basic one. Well, not all water's a killer, of course. It depends on where it came from! Rain or water from a pipe leak are considered sanitary, where as an overflowing toilet... Not so much! (And... gross!) But if your house gets flooded by raw sewage or groundwater, than your carpet's dead, man. No salvaging this time! Luckily, beer does not qualify as groundwater... As far as I know, at least.

Dirt is the 2nd carpet killer. It is to carpets what Dexter Morgan is to ordinary psychos! The "D" is quite a coincidence, isn't it? Anyway, dirt can damage the fabrics of the carpet, so investing in a good vacuum cleaner with rotating bushes might be a wise idea! I'm already thinking of bullying Tate into buying one... Though which one of us is gonna' use it is debatable!

Stains (what I was looking for! Woo-hoo!) are the 3rd killer on this dead row. And dealing with them is science... Or science-fiction, if you're as bad a cleaner as I am! Whatever the case, apparently, the important thing is to catch the stain before it has time to set. Which, I dare say, means we're in for calling a professional... I'm fairly certain a whole night is time enough for a stain to settle in the carpet! O, man!

Mold or mildew are the "Bonny & Clyde" duo of carpet killers, but I'll make a wild guess and say I'm not dealing with either of them now!

So, what's the one thing left to do now?

1. Kick Tate off the couch to wake up. Enough lazing off for one morning!

2. Call a professional carpet cleaning London based company. No matter the cost, it will be this much cheaper than buying a new carpet!

And spreading an old rug on the floor would simply not do! Period.

Darkly Devoted Boyfriend

Title reference: “Darkly Devoted Dexter” by Jeff Lindsay

***

Girlfriends, man. They can annoy you, confuse you or drive you completely out of your mind. In the same time, at the end of the day, after you've battled the world, or your boss, or the hot blond bombshell, who wants your office, because she's providing full services to the boss, going home to someone who loves you can make it all worthwhile. So, how do you show her that, even though sometimes you lose your temper and act like a primate, you still care? You always care. It's just that sometimes it's harder to show it. Men and feelings do not always mix up well, right? I mean, come on... What's the masculine thing about saying “I love you” 20 times a day? Nothing! Besides... who does that anyway?

(If you do, buddy, then you're either the happiest man on Earth... or you need to grow a pair!)

So, after you've made a blunder, how do you get back in her good graces? Easy, you just show her your devotion! Or, if that doesn't work, you can always buy her affection. Trust me, all women have a price. Some just don't know it yet.

First thing you do, and it might be a cliché, but it does work, is – you buy her flowers! Not the “buy one half-dead rose, get two dead ones for free” type of deal, but a real, nice, big bouquet that just screams “You're so important!” Trick is to make sure you remember her favorite flower correctly. Or, if you never knew it in the first place, you ask her best friend about it. An apology doesn't work, if the flowers you bring her make her sneeze her head off! Actually, double-checking the authenticity of the favorite flower is always a good idea! You don't want to have a “Oops... It was Cindy who loved roses! Your flower, dear, is... Um...” If you love Cindy so much, go back to her! If she's not with a bunch of children, of course! Then... Run, run, run!

Second thing, if you've made a really big mess, is to be nice to her mum. Yes, even if she hates you. You're not going to bed with her tonight, right? Or if you are... Just get the hell out of my blog and get some professional help! You're sick, man!

Now, number 3 is the hardest one to achieve as it involves...

...Wait for it...

…helping her with some domestic cleaning! Even if there is rugby/football/hockey on TV. That will win you a lot of brownie points! Especially if usually you just lift your feet up and put them on the table, while she runs around the house, doing carpet cleaning and end of tenancy cleaning. (Yes, some women do all that!) I know you're distressed right now, but thing of the benefits after you've shown her you're not as useless as she, being angry, thinks you are! Sneak in an “I love you” in the mix and... You're gonna' be one lucky fellow tonight.

And the night after that. Who knows, you might get a whole “free” week... Getting your hands dirty doesn't sound so bad now, right?

So, my darkly devoted brother-in-arms, if you're reading these lines, then don't waste any more time! Figure out what you've done wrong...

...and go fix it!

The Desperate Boyfriend's Guide to Losing a Girl-fiend Mary Sue!

 

Title reference: “The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe” by Douglas Adams

***

Have you ever had a clingy girlfriend, who thinks that stealing your spare key and making a copy of it for herself is romantic and not... Creepy. Weird. The work of a professional stalker. You have? Great, cos' so have I! And, I can tell you hear and now, I did not enjoy all of the attention. Sure, it was fun in the beginning – her bringing me breakfast in bed, and offering to “help” me in the shower, and cooking dinner even when I was planning to order pizza, - but then just got too much. Calling 30 times a day to ask what I am doing, even though she knows I'm at work. Re-arranging the apartment, so that there would be space for her collection of stuffed-toy piglets (seriously,who needs 20 of those?!). Following me around wherever I go, as if I can't go to the John on my own (which I can... duh!). And so on, and so on, until I felt like I was trapped and she was a member of the Inquisition. No, wait... I take that back! I would have welcomed the Inquisition! At least they wouldn't want to “shower you with love and tickles!” I mean... seriously?

If you're a guy and you're trapped in the nightmare of a girl-fiendish Mary Sue, then here are a few tips how to chase her away and NOT need to change your name, address, passport and social registration.

First thing you do, is make sure she knows how MUCH she reminds you of your mother! The way she walks,talks, cooks, dresses... She kisses you before bad and you reminisce of how your mummy used to kiss you before bedtime. If she's crazy enough to take it as a compliment, go for the kill and say that “You're so much like my mother... Only less gracious and kind of meaner!” Or something to that effect!

If step one fails, then you should take the stakes higher and 1) tell her you'll take her out for a “night to remember”... only to end up dead-drunk in a second grade bar with no ventilation, where all of your buddies gather to play pool and watch rugby; 2) promise her an evening of “sweet love” and romance... Only to spoil the mood with Korn, NHL re-runs on TV, junk food and a pair of old briefs that you wore in college... Trust, boxers are killers, briefs are mood-killers!

If none of the above helps, then do the ultimate sacrifice and offer to help her clean her apartment. Then make sure that by the time she chases you out with the broomstick, she'd already be in desperate need of after builders cleaning services! Which,of course, you are not going to pay. Well, unless she hires a lawyer, but they rarely go for that...Usually pinching your doll with needles is satisfaction enough!

Use those tips carefully and with caution. And remember, if all of the former fail, then you're left with 2 choices, and 2 choices only:

Merry Mary Sue or move to a Third world country, where she would never find you...

...unless she has a really large world-map!