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.