Bad Music

Okay, so this is just plain funny.

There I am, typing away quietly at my computer, as I am wont to do, when all of a sudden my neighbours – nice quiet people that they are – suddenly decide to play some music. Loudly.

I have been known to do this myself, but mostly when I get loud I do so with my headphones on, ‘cause when I get loud I get Rammstein-loud. And that is … noisy.

So anyway, for a few seconds I just sit there grinning like a loon. This is just funny. It’s like bad elevator music, only slightly more upscale. So, the phone rings and I tell my friend that my neighbours are playing some craptastic sleazy elevator music that sounds vaguely like Julio Iglesias, only worse.

My friend thinks I’m taking it unusually well.

What can I say? Crap music tickles my funny bone sometimes. Especially at that volume. I can’t really picture why anyone would want to play it that loud unless they’re trying to cover over other sounds… and I’m not going there. I have to look this people in the eyes if I meet them on the stairs, okay?

Also I can always return fire.

And I can be loud with the best of them. Rammstein, remember. Orff’s Carmina Burana. Wagner. Disturbed. Nine Inch Nails.

That’s the equivalent of someone flicking a rubber band at you and you returning fire with a Stalin’s organ (you know, a Katyusha rocket launcher).

Anyway… there I sit, still sort of smirking and then it hits me.

Shit. Fuck. Damn.

It is Julio.

Load ‘em up. Time to return fire.

ROL

What the hell are they building in there?

I got home yesterday, dumped my stuff, kicked off my boots and powered up my computer.
As I sat down there came a high pitched mechanical whine from the wall directly in front of my desk.

Bloody hell.

Sounded like someone was trying to come through the wall with something huge and Black & Decker-ish.

And I go … “oh, no, not again”.

See, this is what I do not understand. Why do people do that? On a Saturday afternoon? What the hell are they builing in there? For seven hours straight this goes on. And on. And on. And … you get the picture.

It is enough to give you a headache. Actually it is more like an aneurysm come to think of it, silently ticking away like a time bomb behind your eyes. And I was seriously considdering knocking on their door and actually asking them “What the hell are you building in there?”

You see, this is not the first time this has happened. And that’s when your imagination starts running away with you. There is no particular reason why they should need to take a power saw to their walls, our landlord takes care of all maintenance – so they do it for the fun of the thing – pretty dismal fun to my mind – and that means they must be constructing some kind of… I don’t know cage for their children? Spacerocket? Kitchen island style bar in the middle of the room? Greenhouse for their illegal plants and vegetables?

The possibilities are endless.

My patience is not.

At least they didn’t carry on late into the night, which is always something I guess. I can’t believe you have to be grateful for that kind of thing, but there you go.

ROL