Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

44th St

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Yesterday i was whining to the theatre peeps about my yet-to-be finished upstairs bathroom, which mostly owes it’s unfinished state to the fact that inside of the stall shower there is belly-button height bar along the three walls that isn’t entirely secured to the wall. It isn’t that i need some sort of safety catch in case i slip while reaching for soap or shampoo, but at any point where it isn’t firmly connected to the wall there is a gaping hold in the water-proofing and i’m afraid i’ll make the inside of my wall rot if i take a shower before it’s finished.

So, anyhow, i was lamenting that i want my shower fixed, not only so i can take quick morning showers, but because the handle-bar seems ideal for two-person maneuvering inside of a stall shower. This brought a hearty chuckle from the sexually frustrated theatre crowd, and then the conversation kept moving.

So, today the repair guy came by to see what was still left to be fixed in the house, and when i remarked to him about the broken shower bar he replied: “Well, you know what that’s from, don’t you?” [insert blank stare from yours truly] “Sex in the shower.”


I rest my case.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/10/6289386/

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Which would you rather do? : Blithely inform your mother that you want to see a psychiatrist about potential clinical depression or Blithely ignore your mother as she examines your roommates pipe and asks what she uses it to smoke.


Well, i’m a lucky little fuck, cause i got to do both today.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/10/6257546/

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My room is an utter mess. Lindsay and Erika keep telling me this as if i’m supposed to be surprised. While i appreciate that at their old house every room was a place to chill and at parties they all hosted their own tiny conversations, i really can’t deal with that. I have something like $3000+ in various guitars in here, plus my computer and cd collection, plus the fact that i’m an utter mess. Oh, and, yeah, there’s that thing where i never had friends or family in my bedroom for more than a minute or two ever until senior year of highschool (and that was mostly just Gina). So… i don’t know. L&E were up here the other night so we could use IMDB and they kept talking about how they could never live in a room this messy and how could i live like this and i was like… blah. Lindsay’s room is gorgeous and wonderful and i could never live in it because there is no sign of life. I like my room to be lived in… it proves to me that i’m still here.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/10/6169407/

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Hi. Apparently my lap-dance was written off as random drunkeness (though i’ve heard it was quite good despite a lack of quality nudity), and i wound up sleeping all night last night while two of my favourite people to talk to were hanging out with Erika downstairs so that i could get up at 8am this morning and do laundry for three hours. Oh yeah, baby.


In other news, much graciousness to ShadowClear and Andy Dehnart for linking to me for no apparent reason other than that they find me interesting, and to Jean’s blog for continuously linking me even though i need Izabelle to translate for me half of the time.. And, also, i appreciate Rabi‘s adding my link to her new layout; rest assured that when i figure out who exactly i’m reading Rabi will still be very much on the list. I mean, you know my surfing habits are running on tilt when i couldn’t tell you what’s happening on in the lives of Benjy, Tom, Mollie, KevRock, Martha, Brendan, Eve, Lizzie, ErnDawg, Nancy, and all the rest.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/09/6015860/

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Somehow yesterday got juggled so that it ended with Ariel on my couch watching the premier of ER and then Lindsay and I mixing a drink from my neverending supply of Everclear, and Erika and i unselfconsciously babbling about acting and theatre for over an hour before we finally decided to go to sleep. So, here i am on Friday morning with red eyes and alcohol on my breath writing short stories and reading selections from the collectioned works of Borges.

College finally feels like college.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/09/5975202/