After a week of nothing really to write about and no interesting activity upstairs I was almost concerned for the welfare of the fattie upstairs. Is she stranded somewhere? Was she arrested? Is she dead?
I was all prepared to make a note to see what the (lack) of a fuss has been.
In a startling development I was awoken to what I can only assume is either a washing machine stuck on the spin cycle off-balance or 400lbs of lard having it’s momentum shifted in a regular pattern.
It was scary.
It was so scary I had to leave the room.
I took a piss and could hear it in the bathroom.
I walked into the living room to turn the heat up a bit (cold as fuck in the apt this morning) and I could hear it.
The heat kicked on and over the sound of the furnace, I could still fucking hear it.
You know that scene in Jurassic Park where it’s just after the power goes out in the trucks and there is a cup of water inside, and wouldn�t you know it the dinosaurs are so heavy they shake the water in the cup when they walk?
Sure enough – the cup of water on my nightstand was detecting a full blown fucking T-Rex.
Fuck that shit.
I pounded on the ceiling a few times; no response.
I tried it again; no response.
Is she deaf? No, she’s just a fattie and getting it on and doesn�t want to stop.
Of course just my luck the heat kicked off and suddenly the shitstorm hit.
Luckily it doesn’t take very long for her to finish.
So now it’s 3:47 am and I�m left to draw my own conclusions.
I�ll update this after I try to get some sleep.
Jeezus Christ! I’m disturbed just hearing about that. I know of a good psychiatrist and will forward you the number. Get better.