Colossal: the weirdest kind of superheroes

Cinema lovers worldwide have, finally, access to which was my favourite film at 64th San Sebastian International Film Festival, so I come to tell you about Colossal (ID, 2016, Nacho Vigalondo), that was presented in the Official Selection, out of contest.

This movie, which by the way was initially going to be named after the Spanish city "Santander"* (!) introduces Gloria (Anne Hathaway), who leaves New York and heads back to her hometown in an attempt to give some structure to the wreckage that is her life. There she re-encounters her childhood friend Oscar (Jason Sudeikis), who will welcome her into his group of friends (Austin Stowel, Tim Blake Nelson) and will help her steer her messy existence towards a lifestyle that would be nice and healthy if it wasn't because Gloria seems to have some kind of connection with a giant monster that is destroying Seoul.

I know, I know, it sounds a bit bizarre. But I promise it's a cool one. Really.

It might be the evolution of its characters what makes this title quite an elegant entertainment instead of a surreal absurdity, I'm not sure; anyway, Gloria and especially Oscar are presented as very likable elements of a chick flick, but that quickly degenerates into extremely dark levels in which everyone seems to be a bit mentally unstable.

Summing up, Colossal is nicely presented, it's developed in a really cool fashion and neatly resolved, and it offers a medley of cinema genres that end up being just a good excuse to make the viewer think about how certain human characteristics such as wickedness or courage can be pushed to insane limits. Moreover, it is original and very entertaining, with rather amusing parts and some very exciting ones, and it was, as mentioned above, among the best products I saw in the past SSIFF. Recommended.

* The press conference you can access with the link at the top is interesting, but don't watch it if you haven't seen the film yet since, as it often happens with press conferences, it contains loads of spoilers (including one in one of my questions and even more in Austin Stowell's answer. My apologies).

How assholes manage to make you believe everything is your fault

I just understood the logic behind something that had been bothering me for years.

What did you say? You want me to explain it to you in a completely unnecessary, yet quite enthralling post? Well, if I must!

The concept -or one of the many, anyway- that has been annoying me for half my life is the following:

How come, when faced with an insensitive asshole, it's actually us who end up feeling stupid and thinking we are being childish?

Uhmmm that couldn't get any more vague. Let me develop it a bit:

Have you ever had a friend, or a boyfriend or girlfriend, that you found amazingly self-centered and that would hurt your feelings on a regular basis, but somehow ended up convinced that it was indeed yourself the one screwing things up all the time?

I get rid of that kind of company quite fast, but a recent situation has led me to going through the above once again.

And thanks to that, I think I have finally figured out how it works.

I'm going to explain further, but before starting, I just need you to realise that if this situation I just described happens to you all the time, with everyone, about everything, then you may be at least a small part of the problem. Oversensitive spirits who get extremely offended by every freaking thing they are told, or not told, or somehow implied or any other variation, seem to be pretty much everywhere these days. So bear in mind that what I am about to explain describes a relationship from the point of view of a person who is not often hurt by their friends. There can be unnerving conversations every now and then and some of my mates may make me feel left out, or the other way round, once in a blue moon. But in general I'm quite happy with the company I keep.

This said,

HOW JERKS MANAGE TO MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE YOU ARE THE ONE BEING A SULKY BRAT

As hinted above, I am going to use a personal experience to explain things. You are going to meet my friend (ish) John, and I'm going to begin by telling you that John is a really nice guy. He is cheerful and interesting, and I am quite sure he is not a bad person at all.

The problem is, just as lively and kind John is, he is also the greatest, most ridiculous narcissist I have met in a very, very long time. This would usually just lead to quite a lot of shallowness and a recurring sensation of annoyance, which is already bad enough but tolerable after all; the problem is that narcissism usually comes, and this case is no exception, with certain actions that include acting like a self-centered prick who is more than willing to smash the fragile little soul of anyone who is not a valid tool in fulfilling whatever plan they are following to satisfy themselves.

Again, the good things I said earlier about John are entirely true. I am actually quite convinced that this guy is not aware of the harm he inflicts on others or, more likely, he is aware but has been lying to himself about it for so long that his brain doesn't register the actual level of pain inflicted anymore. John is not an asshole, John behaves like an asshole. This is key to understand why I've put up with his crap for longer than anybody could humanly expect me to do so. I have a hard time getting angry at people who don't really understand that they are doing things wildly wrong.

Anyway, there are lots of situations I could choose to make you understand the many ways in which this guy wrecks my nerves, but I will stick to the simplest one: the online interaction.

In this contemporary world, subtle and a bit creepily dominated by Mark Zuckerberg's companies, a lot of the communication I have with my friends happens through text messages. I use whatsapp or telegram, mostly, and I do so relatively often because most of my closest friends live in my home country or are scattered around Europe (if you didn't know, I'm Spanish but live in London).

Back to John, he had this lovely habit of getting a text, several hours later reading it -which I am made aware against my will every single time, thanks to that fantastic, extraordinarily intrusive blue tick-, and several hours later replying. Sometimes he wouldn't even reply in the same day he got the original text.

Now, if this happens every now and then, I couldn't care less. I texted my friend Iris three days ago and I am realising this second that she hasn't replied yet. Usually she doesn't ignore me if I try to contact her, or it's actually her sending whatever to see how I'm doing, so if she forgets to reply one day I may not even notice. But John never ever ever replies in a decent time frame.

I would also like to clarify, for the sake of context, that people not reading my messages is something that barely bothers me. The target of my attention may be watching the whole of the Star Wars saga with no intention of getting in touch with the outside world for all I know. But someone knowing I am trying to reach them, yet deciding to ignore me, that's another matter entirely.

You may be thinking, "just don't text him. If if bothers you so much that he takes seven hours to reply to you every time, just don't send him anything". And we will get there. But at the moment of this happening, I was just trying to develop a normal friendship with a normal person, without worrying too much about the little things I didn't like about him. And I found myself being incapable of such development because of this attitude I'm talking about. Now, this may sound like a bit of an exaggeration, but it's really not. Let's see:

Imagine you want to be friends with Laura. You meet her, you hit it off and you start hanging out. Imagine you meet up with her for coffee and have a fascinating conversation about, I don't know, the possibilities of extraterrestrial life in this new solar system they just found. You finish whatever overpriced drink Starbucks is selling this season and part ways. Two days later, you come across a super interesting article that adds some information to that aliens chat you had. The normal thing to do? You send the link to Laura. Because you know she would want to know. If Laura likes talking to you -which you know she does, not only because she has actively told you so, but also because otherwise I doubt she would have spent three hours wondering about the possibilities of finding water somewhere in TRAPPIST-1 with you- she will read it and give you her impression, or tell you she will read it later, or whatever. Something. Anything.

But if Laura replies to your article thing six hours and a half later, with a text that is not only late but also pretty empty and more a politeness requirement than an actual answer -taking forever to text back often comes with shallow content. That is also the case with John, if you were wondering-, then it doesn't really matter what she says, because the conversation is broken. You will be fine with this once, twice, three times. But if you see that every time you try to contact Laura she does every possible activity in her life before getting back to you, and when she does it doesn't really look like she is interested in whatever you are saying, at some point you are just going to realise that once you step out of that café, the conversation is over for good.

Here I'd like to make my first point. Don't be fazed by the fact that I have zero idea about psychology, just believe blindly in the things I find out by analysing the people who annoy me:

If you want somebody to count on you, you need to choose one of these two options:

1. Either you show up on a very regular basis (you get in touch every weekend, you have lunch together every Tuesday, stuff like that), or

2. You are willing to be contacted by means that don't involve being physically in the same room with the other person.

It's one or the other. Ideally both, but you don't need one option too bad if you have the other one.

Of course, this is up to you; you can do whatever the hell you want. I'm just telling you that if you don't comply with at least one of the two options above, your friends will stop calling on you in the long run, and creating new relationships is going to be extremely hard. Your loved ones need to know that if they have had the worst day ever they can tell you and you will listen to them. And that is not a feeling you give by showing up at random times and by taking five hours to reply to every text you get.

Needless to say, face to face interaction beats any other means of communication, but, whether you like it or not, technology is part of our lives now, so you might as well learn to take advantage of that.

Back to the story, you should know I am not that good at hating people in silence, so after the couple of weeks it took me to understand this was not a random attitude but a stable habit, I explained all this stuff to John, trying to get him to understand why I found it offensive when someone only pays attention to their friends if they are sharing the oxygen in the room.

Wanna know what John said?

That he doesn't want to live his life checking his phone every five minutes.

I don't know how the six hours, or seven, or the half day I was talking about turned into five minutes, but it doesn't matter! Because now I understand!

It's not that John doesn't give a flying fuck about my life once I'm out of his sight -literally-, it's that I expect everyone to exist staring at their phones every minute of the day!

Blaming your bullshit on others: The musical.

And here goes my second point:

An egotistic jerk will twist facts as much as needed to get rid of all responsibility and blame the situation on others, including you. This, I must say, is more to fool themselves than to fool you. John actually believes all this crap he is telling me, or at least he tries really hard to believe it. It's way easier to think I expect too much from everyone than to realise he should actually take people's feelings into consideration. Because thinking of people's happiness all the time is freaking exhausting, I must add.

I had a friend in college who was a clear example of this attitude. I remember she could organise a party in your face and invite everyone in the table but you, and then claim you didn't need to do absolutely everything together when you explained that she made you feel a little excluded. So a situation in which you felt bad because you had been deliberately ignored turned out to be actually your fault because you were just too needy.

But blame shifting is a well-known technique. The aim of this post is not to tell you about stuff you already know, but to share why -I believe- that technique actually works.

After thinking a lot about it, I've come to a conclusion that I can't decide whether is the most ridiculous idea ever or whether it's the one an only legit answer to all my questions:

When a person you are close to shows symptoms of not really caring much about you, your feelings get hurt. When your feelings are hurt it's kind of embarrassing to let others know, so most people try to hide it, therefore never letting whatever idiot we're talking about know about the flaw in their acting. If, in spite of it being slightly humiliating, you build up the courage to tell the offending moron, then you will probably find yourself feeling like an immature and clingy teenager at some point while having that conversation. The more you have to explain, the more immature and clingy you will feel. And this is what I'm talking about: I think the reason why you feel like a whiny teenager when defending whatever basic rule of human interaction is that the last time you had to explain these very things to anybody you were actually a teenager.

I am well aware that this sounds absurd, but give it a thought. When I was a kid I would get told off every now and then by a friend because I didn't reply to a letter -yes, I'm old- fast enough. I would tell friends at some point that if they were asking for postcards every time I went on holidays, I would be expecting the same from them when they traveled. Maybe you were yelled at a couple of times because it would always be your friends calling you, while you would rarely pick up the phone to contact them.

It doesn't matter if we are talking about postcards, landline calls, whatsapp messages or homing pigeon letters; the concept is always the same: I am trying to reach out to you; I am interested in your life, and you are not showing any kind of interest back. That is somehow disrespectful and it makes me feel like you don't care about me. If you want ours to be a healthy relationship, stop doing it.

Back in the day, we all had this conversation. We all understood the really basic concept that is to want a friendship to be a two way street. And we moved on.

The problem is, these people never did. Maybe no one ever told them this was a harmful conduct, or, more likely, they convinced themselves that this was an acceptable way to treat people, blaming every related issue they would have on whoever was complaining about them.

And actually, all this psychological stuff I essentially made up -but that you are believing anyway because it makes total sense and you know it- is just an excuse to give you my final conclusion:

If a person clearly came to your mind while reading this, if you painfully understand every detail of this post, then I am so very sorry to tell you this but you have to let that person go.

Like, for real. Right now.

No, seriously.

If you have explained how you feel to your friend/partner/whatever and they keep behaving like this, you need to move on. They are not going to change. It's not going to get better.

And don't think I don't understand how hard this is, because I do. I really do. John is fun and brilliant and I miss him very much. I could have a three-hour discussion with him about how machines will one day dominate the world, or about the anthropological background of monogamy, or I could just spend half an evening watching telly and eating ice cream with him, and it was lovely. But he was messing with my self confidence. He was trying to convince me that the many acts that proved over and over that he was not really my friend (I only mentioned communication here, but there was also hiding information unnecessarily, never being there whenever I needed any kind of help, ignoring me for weeks but then getting upset when it was me not wanting to meet up with him and a long etcetera) were totally normal responses and that they didn't at all mean that he didn't care about me. As a consequence, I was starting to doubt myself. I was starting to think maybe he was right and it was me expecting too much from everyone, being needy. Which is not only untrue but also kind of messed up. This guy was meddling with my self esteem, and the second you allow someone to manipulate your self esteem in any way, that's the time to seriously reconsider things.

The funny part here is that it's not really me at loss. And I don't mean it only because John is missing out on hanging out with me -I am super fabulous, OK? I promise-. He may have ruined his relationship with me but that's not a big deal; not everybody needs to like me, and, as much as he claimed the opposite, John didn't like me that much. The actual problem is that our man here will one day meet a guy who could have become his best friend, or a girl who could have been the love of his life, and he will screw things up so spectacularly that there will be no way for him to fix them. I can only begin to imagine how many amazing people would have been glad to be John's friends but after a while just gave up on trying to make him see that he is not the centre of the universe.

So here we have this guy, who has the potential to be a true asset for whoever crosses his path, who will change your perspective in so many subjects and open your mind if you just listen to him. And you just won't want him to do so, because you will find him so bloody annoying and self-absorbed that you will willingly give up on all the coolness of the relationship only not to have to orbit around his massive ego.

I must say, though, that after telling him he did try to improve some of the things I've mentioned. He doesn't take half a day to reply to a text anymore, for example. But whatever I get is just a tiny amount of superficial information that doesn't help build a relationship in the slightest. And I talk about what I saw a while ago, because, as you can imagine, I don't text him anymore. Actually, I don't really see him anymore.

With John, once you are out of sight you basically stop existing, and whenever he's around it feels like you two being together at that particular moment is more of a cosmic coincidence that him actually wanting to spend time you.

Fortunately, I can do better than that. And so can you.

Friendship is not a thing

I had an epiphany last Friday night. And I'm going to share it with you, whether you like it or not.

OK, I kind of took the thrill out of it by writing that title, but here you go:

Friendship is a social construct, and it doesn't really work. Theoretically speaking it makes sense and it is beautiful, but in real life it barely exists. Let me explain.

First of all, I want you to know that this is not a whiny, cynical post about how I thought I had friends but it was all a lie and the world is such a cruel place and my life sucks and boohoo. I have what the dictionary considers friends and I love them very much, thank you. So if you are an edgy teenager looking for poorly created poetry to feed your hunger for drama, you better head off to one of those cheesy inspirational Tumblr accounts, because this post won't give you what you want. 

Friendship doesn't exist. Not in the pure, eternal way we have learnt to respect. Sure you can have a loving relationship with a person that will help you through hard times and go out and have fun with you and listen to you and call on you when they have a problem, but that doesn't last forever. And if it doesn't last forever, I am sorry to tell you this, it is not friendship. And now let's go for the cannot-be-unseen bit:

Most of the acts you have observed throughout your life that you thought were fueled by fraternity and comradeship were not such. They were powered by kindness, not friendship.

Again, let me explain this further; remember that time your dog Poncho was run over by a truck and you thought you were going to die of despair? Remember how you told your friend Jessica, or Adam, or whoever the hell your best friend is, and they spent four hours straight talking about what had happened even though they had an exam in three days, and  how they then called you every day after that for a month to see how you were doing, and hung out with you all the time to keep you distracted?

That had to be friendship, right?

Sorry, love. That wasn't friendship. That was kindness. They would have done it for anybody.

You think I'm bullshitting you, don't you. Let's see it this way:

Imagine someone else's Poncho had kicked the bucket. Someone that is not you had a terrible neighbour with an awful, noisy truck and now they hate the world and want to kill themselves, or everyone in their building, or whatever. Imagine they call Jessica. Adam. Whoever. And I mean the same Jessica we were talking about a few lines above. They are not the closest people in the world, but they get along. They don't know who else to call and they just pick up the phone and call them. Do you think your best friend would hung up on them? Do you think they would let this person, who is calling for help, deal with this situation on their own? No, they would not. They would just spend those four freaking annoying hours talking about how no one will ever replace Poncho but how things will get better. Sure, they won't be as happy to do it as they were with you, because this other person is not their friend and you are. Sure they won't be calling every day for a month to see how things are going, but they will call or text for the following week. Wanna know why?

Because they are good people. And that makes them look like they are good friends.

What we detect as friendship is nothing more than very nice people being particularly fond of someone.

There are, of course, some -usually fleeting- exceptions to this. There is always this guy who is a total asshole but will bring you the moon if you are their friend. That can happen, but usually the day things go wrong and the asshole gets angry at you for whatever reason, you are screwed. Let me illustrate this with an example:

My -a long time ago- friend Mary was super BFFs with this awful girl, Shel. Shel was a terrible person. She would make fun of everyone, she was manipulative and would try to take advantage of you at the first opportunity. She tried to kick me out of our group of friends because the guy she fancied had a crush on me. That kind of person. Well, Mary and her were as close as it gets and shared secrets and all that crap that comes with teenage friendships. It lasted for a while, and then, to nobody's surprise, Shel screwed Mary over. I don't even remember what happened, she just behaved like the little bitch she was and Mary started seeing who the real person she was dealing with was.

Well, as soon as Mary realised she had been wasting her time and how big a skunk her so-called friend was, it took her like five minutes to start telling every secret she knew, every fear, every skeleton in Shel's closet she could think of.

So I want to know. Do you think Mary was ever Shel's friend?

I know she wasn't. And deep down, you know it, too.

If the quality of a relationship can get crushed the second one of the two members gets angry, that quality is as good as non-existent. If all your secrets are one dispute away from getting shouted to the world, then that is not friendship.

And you may be thinking, "But she was a bitch, you said it yourself! She does deserve to be treated like that, she shouldn't get to enjoy the perks of true friendship once she has behaved like a jerk!"

And you may be right, I don't really know. The problem here is, who decides whether a behaviour is bad enough that you should stop being friends? I mean, what if I tell you my deepest fears and we are the best friends in the world and then something awful happens, like, whatever, your boyfriend falls in love with me? You have a boyfriend, you love him very much, and he decides to break things up because he wants to be with me instead. Even if I refuse, you still lost your boyfriend because of my existence, and that, even if maybe not your particular case, is enough to trigger nearly anybody. A million different people would start hating me in that situation, probably finding some kind of excuse to make it look like it was all my fault and therefore having what they think is a legitimate reason to hate me and screw me over with the tons of information they have on me.

That is not friendship. That is a short-term contract for having fun and not being lonely.

"But Jacky and I had been BFFs since we were 8 and when I slept with her boyfriend in college at her birthday party she stopped being friends with me but never used anything she knew against me! That was real friendship, right?! RIGHT???"

First of all, you slut, I hope you get cheated on in every relationship you have. Second, that was real friendship (one way, though) only because Jacky is a good person. She was capable of ending things and move on without going after you. This comes more of being a decent human being than a good friend. And just to clarify, in this case maybe you deserved to have all your secrets told because you were such a crappy friend to Jackie, I don't really know. This area has more shades of grey than that cheesy trilogy of books, but my point here is that deciding what is punishable and what is not is such a subjective matter and the borders are so blurry and difficult to define, that you cannot have the survival of your relationships depend on that. Even if the person did something atrocious, you can never know if it was a misunderstanding, or if someone made it up, or any other possibility. Secrecy and trust given during a period of time should never be broken just because in another period things are not working as nicely.

The problem is, this goes wildly against human nature. You have been screwed, you want to screw back. If you are capable of not taking revenge on someone for the simple fact that you once were friends, that probably means you are a balanced, mature person, with tons of empathy and a heart the size of a bulldozer.

So, basically, what I am saying here is that good person overrides good friend. Every good person is intrinsically a good friend, and to be a good friend you need to be a good person. Therefore there is no such thing as good friend -a bad friend or a meh friend is not a friend-, so there is no such thing as friends. Or if you prefer it, let's say the concept of friend is just not necessary, since it can be covered with other aspects of human behaviour. Friendships that last for decades and that work are just very very good people who like each other very much.

Or, to put it in another way, the foundation of friendship is not the connection between two people, but how those people are separately. Mutual affection is little more than a detail, not the basis. Two beautiful people that cross paths will most likely end up being friends, because they both have what they need to be so. They just have to like each other.

And I said this was an epiphany because, as I said earlier, I consider myself to have friends. I think I am very lucky indeed. So noticing this has put my world upside down. It has forced me to think about each one of my friends and about how much I trust them, and I have noticed two different things:

1) Most of my friends are not. We have a lovely relationship, I trust them for tons of things, but I am aware that I don't own the whole package. Our love and trust is not unconditional. A lot of my close friends are guys, and a lot of those relationships go down the drain as soon as one of the two get a partner. Me getting a boyfriend has made some of the relationships weird enough not to be sustainable anymore. Them getting a girlfriend has made them disappear -in some cases this would have happened regardless my and their gender, though. Some people just vanish when they get a significant other-. A lot of others were amazing in person but are not willing to make the effort necessary to keep things going now that we live in different cities. Or maybe the simple fact that there has to be an effort is proof enough that the relationship is not as strong as we thought it was.

This doesn't mean I don't appreciate them or that I don't want them in my life, though; I'm just saying that we don't share that super absolute gorgeous relationship in which you can call on each other if you need to hide a body. It doesn't mean I don't think they're great. Just for the record.

2) The friends I do trust for nearly everything, the people in my life who I consider are and will probably always be my friends, are extraordinarily, and I mean extraordinarily good people.

For this second point, I need you to understand how extremely objective I am trying to be with this. I am not saying they are wonderful because they are my friends. It's the other way round. The few people I can think of that I believe won't desert me come what may are these little shiny creatures from books who are nearly incapable of lying -about subjects that matter- and who have a genuine hard time when they see others suffering. They have their own lives and won't hop on a plane to go help the first person who is throwing a tantrum over something stupid, but they will go to huge extents to help you out if you are worth it and you need it.

This gives me a headache. Do I really have any friends? Or would they do anything for just anybody who is nice and a good person? And if I have to choose, which option is better? Do you love your friends because they would take you out of a building on fire, or do you love them precisely because they would take anybody out of a building on fire?

Well, I choose to pick as friends those people who would save anyone. I just think and hope that the day something happens, this friendship thing people keep talking about will make them choose to save me first.

La fille de Brest: European cinema that won't make you jump off a bridge

I am at San Sebastian International Film Festival! I'm certain you are all keen on hearing my opinions regarding black and white Belarussian films you will never ever watch, so I come bearing a bunch of super exciting reviews for you!

The first one is about the opening movie for this 64SSIFF, which has been, and I have no idea why since nobody knows about it, La Fille de Brest (La Fille de Brest/150 Milligrams, Emmanuelle Bercot, 2016), which tells the real story about how doctor Irène Frachon (Sidse Babett Knudsen) had to try to bring down a powerful pharmaceutical company practically on her own when she realised that a drug called Mediator, used as appetite suppressant and prescribed by French cardiologists for years, was actually causing the death of a ton of patients.

Focused nearly exclusively on its main character, who is as brave and stubborn as it gets, the story is light and acceptably thrilling, with te small issue that it looks more like a series of mini-episodes than a whole product. Indeed, talking to some other viewers after the screening, we all agreed that the feeling of repetition was difficult to ignore. This is really not a big deal, though, and speaking in general terms La Fille de Brest is a film I can recommend, especially due to the good cast choice, in which everyone makes a brilliant job. Moreover, it is always cool to get to know a real story as aggressive as this one. Real-life Irène Frachon, who is, by the way, a genuinely lovely woman, told us more about this subject in the press conference, that you can watch here. Probably the most interesting bit was Irène explaining how she has not really been harassed by pharmaceutical companies after spilling the appetite suppressing beans, but how she barely goes to medical conferences anymore because she knows doctors are not very fond of her.

I also was grateful by the fact that the movie doesn't fall into the million cliches that would be expected in a title like this: there is no parallel romance to compensate a frustrating marriage, no unnecessary sex scene, that kind of stuff. The only stereotype they do show is about pharmaceutical companies being evil and mean as hell. It might even be true, I don't know, but it's kind of tiring to always see them portrayed as the super bad guys.

Also, as an FYI, just know that there are a couple of really hard-to-watch images regarding surgery. I was fine because Grey's Anatomy and CSI have trained me well, but there is an autopsy scene in which some people left the theatre. Just so you know. Nevertheless, it's just like five minutes in total, so you just have to look away. And ignore the sound of cracking ribs, now that I think about it.

Foxxie IV

Uoh, am I late or what. Anyway, if you want to understand what I'm about to tell, you may want to read Foxxie I, Foxxie II and Foxxie III first. And I promise this is the last of the story:



From the moment I am asked to leave I completely stop talking to Foxxie and Muggie. Whenever they dare say something to me I reply with the minimum amount of words possible and the few times I am forced to communicate with them I keep it as short and dry as I can. The only thing I tolerate is saying hi in the corridor.

Days go by while I desperately look for a new place, and Foxxie starts getting aggressive. She stops saying hello and she never talks to me, even when it is necessary. Instead, she leaves notes. She doesn't even address me in them, she just writes impersonal messages instead. One day in which I leave a tupperware of soup open in the countertop so it cools down, I leave the kitchen and when I get back the tupperware is closed and there is a note next to it:

Hi, can we please keep food covered so we don't get rodents in the house. Thanks!

Oh wow. I giggle. I take a picture and open whatsapp.

Me – xD They are not talking to me anymore, they now leave notes -I attach the pic-. Because knocking on my door and actually speaking is too mainstream, I guess.

Daisy – Are you serious??? Talk about passive-aggressive!

I restrain myself from going to see Foxxie to tell her she is an idiot, because I still don't have a new flat and the situation can get quite unpleasant.

But couple of days later...

Please wipe benchtop and stove after use.

This requires an explanation so you can understand why this particular request makes my blood boil.

My two flatmates are not particularly dirty, OK? The house is acceptably clean. Nevertheless, there are a couple of details that clearly state they aren't exactly in love with cleaning either. The first one is this glass:

That glass is there always. Eternal. Daytime:

Nighttime:

The rest of the dishes get done, the glass doesn't. The glass belongs in the sink:

I know it's not always the same glass because it shapeshifts from time to time. And because I have tried to make it disappear in a respectable amount of occasions. I wash it, the next day the glass is in the sink again. I put it in the dishwasher, next day glass in the sink. After a bunch of attempts, obviously, I accept the harsh reality and realise the glass is going to sit there forever.

The other detail is, and that's why the note pisses me off so much, that the countertop is permanently covered in breadcrumbs. The rest of the place looks acceptable, but the breadcrumbs are bloody everywhere. This has been like this since the day I arrived and I haven't said anything about it because the general tidiness was alright and I thought it would be sensible not to complain about every single detail that bothered me. So, after a few weeks of seeing the benchtop covered in bread bits one day after another, this little skunk has the guts to come leaving damning notes assuming I am the one to blame for the daily bread apocalypse.

Hence my grabbing the piece of paper and entering the living room to have which will be my fascinating and last conversation ever with her.

Me - Foxxie. Is this supposed to be for me? -I wave the sheet in the air-.

Foxxie - It is for whoever is not cleaning the benchtop.

Me - Aham. Not me.

Foxxie - Alright.

You can build a true friendship with foundations like this deep exchange of ideas.

With every day that goes by Foxxie's behaviour gets worse. Whenever I'm around she slams doors and makes all the noise she is capable of, hitting dishes and smashing drawers as much as she can. The situation gets tense because I feel that ending up hitting each other is getting more and more likely, which would probably not be too good for me since I am very thin and I believe pretty easily beaten up.

The one time I don't see Foxxie spitting fire is one day in which Muggie brings home a new plant. They are so happy, admiring the shiny green leaves.

48 hours after that, as you can imagine, the plant is in vegetable paradise and adding up to the very depressing pots cemetery we have in the kitchen. I seriously hope these girls won't ever want a dog. Or kids.

And like this, surrounded by slammed doors and dead plants I find a room in a neighbourhood nearby, slightly more expensive than Daisy's but a little bigger, in a better house and in a main road.

I don't even say goodbye. Foxxie and Muggie know when I'm gone because they see me emptying my kitchen cupboards, but I don't tell them I'm leaving, nor I, fortunately, see them ever again.

A few weeks after, I meet up with Daisy to have dinner and give her back her keys. She tells me that our two favourite mistresses are making her pay the bills.

The thought of paying them a visit carrying a flamethrower crosses my mind.

Me - WHAT!? So they don't have a third flatmate because they just don't feel like it and yet they are cheeky enough to tell you to pay the bills!?? And why do you pay? That's not even in the contract!!

Let's take a minute to think about this, because just wow: there are expenses that are directly proportional to the number of tenants in a house, like the electricity. In that flat there are only two people consuming electricity, yet Daisy has to pay for the third part of it.

Muggie is bigger than me, but I may be able to break Foxxie's legs.

Daisy - I pay because I just don't have the energy to fight this anymore. For that kind of money it's just not worth it. I told my parents about this on the phone and they told me to pay for the two months I have left and let it go. And I think they are right.

Damn it. They're probably right. It sucks to see your dignity destroyed like this, but sometimes you have to choose between your pride and your mental health.

Me - I hate to say it, but they might actually be right.

Some weeks later I get an email; apparently Foxxie has managed to throw one last tantrum before moving out. Not only was I kicked out and Daisy had to pay a fortune just because, but here the ladies want Daisy to go help them cleaning the flat. This is (partially) Daisy's email:

[...] I was actually going to write to you anyway to let you know the girls finally moved out of the house last weekend woohoo! We received the property report and so far (touch wood!) it looks like it should be ok to get my deposit back...phew! But Foxxie managed to cause one last drama before she moved out of course....she emailed the week before they moved out to tell me I had to go there and help them clean the house!!!! I had steam coming out of my ears when I read that email! I told them I was away that weekend (I wasn't) and asked very nicely if they could just give the room a quick dusting (I knew you had left it in a really good state, so at most it would've needed a light dusting). This is what she wrote back to me:

Just to say, as we did not did not ALL contribute to the final cleaning and leaving the flat (vacating at the end of tenancy) in a presentable way as per the inventory report (and tenancy agreement), which we were required to clean at the end of our tenancy regardless of any circumstance, (we are ALL liable for) two of the three of us clearly attempted to, unfortunately areas of the flat have not been left in a cleanly manner, again, as per the inventory report... so, I guess it will be up to the landlord as to how he/she views the state of the property and may think it requires additional cleaning. 

So many parenthesis, so pompous, for God's sake. Not only is this girl evil, she also has the writing skills of a shrimp.

Anyways, this is what Daisy emailed back:

Considering when you moved in I wasn't happy with the state of your room from the previous tenants that I spent hours and hours scrubbing your room and ensuite from top to bottom to make sure it was in a presentable state when you moved in and considering I cleaned the fridge on a regular basis when I was living in the flat and considering my mum scrubbed the oven when she was over and I didn't use it any time after that (except for the occasional lasagne which didn't make any mess) and considering I looked after all the bills when I was living there and considering I looked after all the property maintenance when I was living there and considering I have contributed payment to the carpets being cleaned and considering I can use CAPITAL LETTERS in a sentence too, then I think cleaning the house on this one occasion and wiping down a few extra surfaces in my room to leave it in a presentable way as per the inventory report should not really be an issue.

Ah! Don't you love it when nice people run out of patience? I certainly do.

Unsurprisingly enough, Foxxie never replied, and honestly I don't blame her. I kind of picture Daisy typing the email with a rifle on the table.

And well, that's it. I moved to a better flat, Daisy got her deposit back and we even keep in touch. I don't think Foxxie and Muggie are living under a bridge, but hey, you can't have it all in life, right?