Monday, November 07, 2005

Riding with lady luck

I suppose it's incredibly cheap of me to write about my noisy neighbours huh. When I really should be finishing my zebrafish report.

But you know, there comes a time where you just can't keep things to yourself. 'Cos you start wondering if you are this disturbed because there's something wrong with you, not your noisy neighbours.

But then, how could something be wrong with me, when clearly, it is plain, obscenely disgusting to see two really ugly (I'm sorry if I've suddenly dashed your expectations of me being all virtuos and hippie-all-loving bunny by saying this) people staying together in the same room for days, screaming so loudly I can hear from down the hall. Ok, they were screaming in the kitchen, lest you horny bastards think otherwise. Like my neighbour says la (she got it worse, staying right opposite from the Uglies) "Exam time la, stress. Mugging means more fucking."

Wtf. I'm truly amazed that she's got the strength and humour for such jokes when she stays just across the hall from the Uglies. As it is, I'm trying my absolute bestest NOT to think of what may be happening behind this wall a foot away from my desk every time I spy boy's footwear outside my neighbour's closed door in the middle of the night. And hearing banging on the table is not necessarily helping things either.

I don't know how some people can be so indiscreet. Some things should just be banned from public viewing. Unless you're very hot. 'Cos then imagining things wouldn't hurt my brain as much as imagining the Uglies going at it on the kitchen sink............ huuurgh gross.

"Those'd be some purty ugly kids." - Abs

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