The Hippie v's the Banker - Game On

I constantly get myself into jams, wonder why, then proceed to ignore the situation I have created by pretending that its not happening. Sooner or later I arrive at a point where I absolutely must deal with it.

For ridiculous reasons that made sense at the time the decision had to be made, I have agreed to allow a hipppie and a banker to move into the apartment . What the gunt was I thinking?

Well, I was loosely following the advice of my current roomie, Delta, who suggested that I not choose potential friends but rather select people who would be easy to live with. I am not one of those 'laid back' people that are described in the sharehouse adverts. I am more like one of those 'eccentric' types some may say 'high strung' but clearly they are the laid back types.

The thought pattern was somewhere along the lines of not wanting to get attached to the new people that would in the long run make it easier for me to leave. With this in mind I went for the quiet, chilled, and bland type of people who are very unlike myslef - in an attempt not to clash of course. What a dumb dumb dumb move this was.

The hippie chick is now constantly calling me asking weird questions about vegetarianism, incense and oil burning, parking and the philosophy of the council on the matter, meditation, the overall vibe of the apartment, and the appropriate hours to play her drum that she insists I won't be able to pronounce the name of.

The banker on the other hand has developed an instant hatred for the hippie who he has never met. Granted this is probably due to my mentioning of the incense burning and even more idiodic mention of the word hippie. IDIOT.

So, we are all having a rendevous on Saturday afternoon at which time a further decision will be made about the suitability of the hippie. What a stinking mess I have created.

Delts - for the love of Sexy Clefty - please stay!