Wednesday, November 03, 2004
The Guy That Lives Below
You know how stories, horror stories are written about That Guy that Lives Below? No, not that horny one. He's too far down. I'm talking about that one disaparity of life that always seem to place a guy who is equally as pathetic and as he is egoistic in the room RIGHT below you. With atrocious singing abilities too.
So, as i was saying, this TGTLB does indeed exist. How else could you not know when he wakes you up at 10am in the morning, singing along to LeAnn Rimes' "Can't Fight the Moonlight"? On a Sunday. Don't ask me why he has a penchant for singing songs which are 3 octaves above his normal voice range (which also brings me to the word 'egoistic' as i mentioned before). Trust me, when he starts belting (squealing) out "This Thing Called Love" by The Darkness, a song that was never meant to be 'sung' in the first place, all hell breaks loose. I start to loose my abilities to think and write straight and i start to have this strong compulsion to stomp downstairs, bang on his door and smash his over-inflated head and ego with a Siggo bottle. Oooh, the mere thought of it brings such contentment!
But, of course, being the respectable, calm and collected neighbour as i was, i did no such thing. Desperate situations call for subtle manoeuvres instead. So, just when i detect Silence from down below (which would normally be at 3 or 4am in the morning), i 'll just oh-s0-meekly drag my chair, from the door all the way to my table and slide it under my desk with a loud thump, all the while making sure that i produce enough volume to paralyse or at least wake the poor guy up. Or if i had a rotten day, i'll resort to playing my "Baby Elephant Walk" all across the floor, thumping and life out of TGTLB and dropping significantly hard and metallic things on the floor with might, just to make sure he gets the message. Unfortunately, as far as guys and subtlety go, nothing works. He still continues making life miserable, squealing his heart out to every single tune which he plays ON REPEAT on his mp3's. Oh, and i have to report that recently, he has started to fall in love with the sound of his burbs as well. Yea, Mr. TGTLB holds burp fests in the wee hours of the morning, a sign that he's been having way to much curry for dinner and maggi for supper.
So, while i formulate more sure fire plans to bomb this sucker out of his hole, i'll just sign off now. Apparently, he's stopped singing, so i can ultimately get back to work. Thank goodness.
