Talk about cracked it...
It's war. Pure and simple. War is the state all humans (and states) find themselves in when faced with a belligerent, unreasonable persona that seems happy with stepping on your toes and cares not for diplomacy. I say that if you want peace, prepare for peace, unless you have a common border with Germany in the 20th century. This seems to be where I find myself, metaphorically, so fuck it, game on!
The crazy old neighbor lady stopped me listening to music during the day. She'd scream her scraggy abuse, beat on the fence, insult me and refused to ever even try to be nice. But then, someone who gets the councils' structural engineer to come condemn your house because she thinks the bass levels are demolishing the structure is hardly likely to be a reasonable person to begin with.
So, I stopped listening to music. Cold turkey. Got slowly more and more fucked up. Not that I'm that great to begin with, but the odd bit of catharsis hurts sorely when missed. And besides, a man can only wank so much.
Did that stop her beating on our fence and yelling at me? Did it stop the insults and abuse that threatened to have me over her fence doing things that end in lengthy jail terms?
Did it fuck.
Now when my neighbors play music she beats on the fence and abuses me. She then demands that I go and tell them to turn their music down.
No catharsis and repeated aggravation makes Pukey something something. Go crazy? Don't mind if I do! (insert favorite form of lunatic gibbering)
I couldn't enjoy catharsis with her abuse cutting into it, but can I enjoy being disturbingly petty and spitefully destroying the calm of somebody who's shown no respect for mine?
Fuckin ay I can. Fuck ve cunnead in 'er stupid fuck'm arse sez Oi!
From today onwards, every day that Sandra isn't here during the day it's war. It promises to be a long and tiresome campaign, with a short break for Christmas and parts of the holidays thereafter, but know this: I shall prevail! I shall munt her at the fence, I shall munt her on the volume, I shall munt her with my my vast stores of wrongness, and I, shall NEVER! SURRENDER!
Woe unto those who make a sworn enemy of The Dark Lord Of Ultimate Flemptastic Doom!
The crazy old neighbor lady stopped me listening to music during the day. She'd scream her scraggy abuse, beat on the fence, insult me and refused to ever even try to be nice. But then, someone who gets the councils' structural engineer to come condemn your house because she thinks the bass levels are demolishing the structure is hardly likely to be a reasonable person to begin with.
So, I stopped listening to music. Cold turkey. Got slowly more and more fucked up. Not that I'm that great to begin with, but the odd bit of catharsis hurts sorely when missed. And besides, a man can only wank so much.
Did that stop her beating on our fence and yelling at me? Did it stop the insults and abuse that threatened to have me over her fence doing things that end in lengthy jail terms?
Did it fuck.
Now when my neighbors play music she beats on the fence and abuses me. She then demands that I go and tell them to turn their music down.
No catharsis and repeated aggravation makes Pukey something something. Go crazy? Don't mind if I do! (insert favorite form of lunatic gibbering)
I couldn't enjoy catharsis with her abuse cutting into it, but can I enjoy being disturbingly petty and spitefully destroying the calm of somebody who's shown no respect for mine?
Fuckin ay I can. Fuck ve cunnead in 'er stupid fuck'm arse sez Oi!
From today onwards, every day that Sandra isn't here during the day it's war. It promises to be a long and tiresome campaign, with a short break for Christmas and parts of the holidays thereafter, but know this: I shall prevail! I shall munt her at the fence, I shall munt her on the volume, I shall munt her with my my vast stores of wrongness, and I, shall NEVER! SURRENDER!
Woe unto those who make a sworn enemy of The Dark Lord Of Ultimate Flemptastic Doom!