I have a few real decent reasons for not writing about my daily woes for ages this time, honest. I mostly haven’t been able to use my 80s style PC (shut your fat mouth, its kitsch) cause my wasteman brother has been sleeping in the room that its in. The room currently smells like something dead is being preserved in a large tank of white lightning under the bed. Besides that, Ive been too fucking busy with the festive period. Anyone who chooses to write about their wanky job, wanky housemate, wanky lovelife and wanky bank manager whos threatening to kill them instead of sitting on their junk and eating a plethora of over-salted meat based products needs a lobotomy, get me?

This aint gonna be a blog about ‘NEW YEAR, NEW ME!!!!’ because a) like I said before, I make my resolutions on my birthday because the world revolves around me and b) Im not a fucking donkey, I realise that a new year isn’t gonna make me stop eating double portions, stop me puttin out to get love or stop me drinking to excess. If you must know, 2009 was fucking waste and it all ended with some bint putting my brother in a wheelchair (not permanently but still, bitch better sleep with one eye open. (Well actually she can sleep with both eyes closed, cause I don’t know what she looks like. Or what her name is. Or where she lives.) and with my parents neighbour who supplied me with cheese & wine on a fairly regular basis poppin her clogs. So yeah, good riddance 2009, I hope you burn in a mass of flaming goat scrotum.

I recently realised that I spent all of 2009 being entirely single. I split up with my last boyfriend right at the start of January last year cause I realised I hadn’t been single since I was about 16 – yeah I know, hotter than a pop tart straight outa the toaster – and I simply got too selfish to spend any portion of my precious time dedicating myself to another human being. So, for all of 2009 I was single and (eh, mostly) celibate. It was fucking GOOD. So good, infact, that I fear I will never want another boyfriend for all eternity. Ive got far too comfortable by myself and I have discovered that I DETEST sharing my bed with anyone. On the few occasions that some pitiful bastard did end up stranded in my bed, I developed a habit of making a 3am escape and sleeping alone on my bathroom floor. When they want to stick around any longer than the time it takes for me to find their socks, it fills me with a rage like no other. If they get a cup of tea, it’s a fucking miracle. Just get the fuck out, I need to bleach those sheets and get back to sitting in my bed, watching itv2 dating shows and eating beef jerky. So yeah, safe to say there wont be any wastemen getting in the way of my domination this year. I be concentrating on tasks in hand all day urrrrryday.

The most pressing task in hand is currently finding a new housemate. This is a My Life Fails exclusive – I am looking for a new housemate to fill one of our empty rooms at thug towers. Even Amy doesn’t know yet! I think I might leave it and surprise her…”HIYAAAAA, I’VE ADOPTED A STRANGER!”.

For those of you who don’t know, me & Amy currently live in a 4 bedroom house by ourselves, so we have a spare room each. Cat Case are a sack of ball suckers (shocker!) and cut my contract so I reeeeally need another body in this joint to split rent & bills with, otherwise my pimp game is gonna be weak as hell. Sitting in your pants is only fun if you can actually afford other clothes and just choose not to wear them, just as a diet of coco pops is only fun if you can also actually afford some prime rib if you wanted it. Amy is most definitely not gonna be happy when I tell her about the predicament later, but she needn’t worry – I have it all worked out. All we need to do is advertise the room, then interview the people who are interested. After the interviews, we put them through an x factor style bootcamp. If theres more than 1 person that I…sorry, we like, they wrestle for it. I have taken the liberty of taking full responsibility for finding a new housemate, simply because Amys judgement is about as useful as a blind llamas and because I had nothing to do today so have already made the stage 1 questionnaire.

1. Please list, in point form, how you like to divide your time at home.

Now, the answer to this should include eating, watching brain rot pon telly, cleaning, bathing, rapping at the mirror, grooming men on the internet and plotting world domination if we’re to get along at all.

2. How do you spend your weekends/days off work?

This should include rampant binge drinking, overeating, enjoying crafts, day trips to ikea, crying on the phone to their mum and weeping in the foetal position while watcing Disney films.

3. Are you easily offended?

I think we all know how this one should be answered. Free Presbyterians need not apply innit.

4. Do you have a boy/girlfriend and do they smell like mushrooms, damp, stale fags and/or faeces?

One Blowie is more than enough, fanx blud.

5. Have you got swagger and/or hustle?

After they get through this stage, having answered all questions appropriately, they’ll go through to boot camp where they’ll have to complete a series of challenging…eh….challenges.

QUICK, ME MAMS COMIN ROUND AND WE HAD A CLUSTERFUCK PARTY LAST NIGHT, YOURE IN CHARGE OF PICKIN UP THE CRUSTY DUREX IN THE BATHROOM.

How clean can they get a grotty bathroom within 15 minutes?

I HAD A MOST SUCCESSFUL NIGHTS HUSTLING AND AM CURRENTLY IN BED WITH A QUESTIONABLE CHARACTER AND A BAG OF MY OWN VOMIT BESIDE ME. WHACHUGONDO?

Full points go to the contender who comes in, waving a phone in my face saying theres been a medical emergency and my mum needs me to donate a kidney right away, while kicking the fugface out the door and presenting me with a bacon sandwich and a clean blankie.

ARE YOU A FUCKING DISGUSTING BASTARD WHO DON’T KNOW HOW TO WASH UP RIGHT OR WOT?

One contender, one sink full of dirty dishes, can they do them to my high standards? One tea stain in my little mermaid mug and youre out bruv.

DO YOU STILL HAVE A FUNCTIONING MEMORY OR HAS IT BEEN ERODED BY CRACK AND SLUTS?

A simple memory game, where we lay out some of my possessions and some of theirs. First contender who tries to teef anything of mine gets laid out.

IVE HAD A NUFF SHITTY DAY DOIN A 12 HOUR SHIFT AT CAT CASE, IM COMING HOME AT 9PM AND YOU’VE BEEN IN SINCE 5. WHAT AM I COMIN HOME TO, BITCH?

Points for a relatively clean & tidy house, all of my food still in the kitchen and no fucking punks sitting on my sofa. Double points if youre willin to have a beer with me and listen to me whine, treble points if you let me watch the eastenders repeat on bbc3.

So you see, its all fucking simple! The superstar who gets through that can live with me, which most people would be willing to pay high cash for anyway. If anyone happens to be interested or knows someone who might be, holla at me yeah? They can move in sometime in February. Oh and I swear down I aint mental.

I’m off to work out a structured points based system incase there are just too many prime morons who apply to be my housemate, while eating cucumber dipped in pesto. New low? Welcome to 2010, you pricks.