La Poulette

Tastes like chicken.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Dr. Jeckyll and Miss Hyde, c'est MOI.


Have I mentioned that apart from having a super cool apartment with a g-normeous terrace, I also happen to have just one, single neighbor? One and one alone. Say it: one. You'd think this would enable me to be just a little more lax about my level of noise emission. You'd think this would make my life just a tad easier, make the idea of throwing a party, oh, not such a big deal shall we say. You'd think I wouldn't have the bad luck to chance upon the biggest bitch within a fifty mile radius. Damn wrong, you'd be. Say it: damn wrong.

It all started within the second week of my moving in, when I'd finally acquired a shitty 150 euro stereo system to break the silence of expat bachelorette living. The sound power my little Aiwa machine is capable of churning out ain't nothing to write home about. And too many years of living with my parents have taught me to enjoy listening to music even at moderate volume. Not moderate enough to keep from disturbing the Neighbor Bitch's siesta, it seems. My peaceful shower conducted to the gentle thumping beat of Moloko was interrupted by insisted rapping on the door. I ignored it (a lady doesn't meet the neighbors wrapped in nothing but a towel), but when I ran into her in the corridor a week later she introduced herself pleasantly enough and added
"If I ever get too loud for you, feel free to knock on my door and let me know". Which I was soon to find out translated roughly to: if you ever make so much as a peep I will feel free to bang on your door until the cows come home and I make a believer out of you, girlfriend.


And rap, ring and thump she did. My late night enjoyment of watching Xibit and co. pimping up someone's ride on MTV would suddenly be interrupted by annoyed knocking. An evening gossip session with a friend would be put to a brutal halt by her insistent door banging. For a full year and nine months not a week would go by without me being reminded of her bionic hearing, frazzled nerves and sexual drought (might I add that it's been two years since our conaissance and I've yet to see her receive a gentleman or lady caller). I finally decided to ignore her altogether: two can play the game, you dried-up Flemish bitch, says I and decides to embark upon a whole new strategy: full ignoration. I let her thump and bang until the fat lady sang. I let her wail in front of my door ("Hello! Hello! It's eleven o'clock!" - I don't need you to tell me the time, petasse!) and hopefully develop a blister on her index finger from her unceasing bell ringing. I would even start watching TV with the volume a good notch higher.Yet I underestimated the bitch. She's a nasty, feisty, bitter old thing and the cat and mouse game continued until I one day found myself having an enjoyable phone conversation when the banging commenced anew. "It's e-leven o'clock, I am trying to sleep!" whined she from behind my door.

I'm a good-natured mild mannered girl, I am. Perhaps even too close to the right side of shy and timid instead of outgoing and extroverted. Calm and peaceful for sure. At that precise moment, however, something deep within the darkest recess of my otherwise zenlike mind snapped. "I AM JUST ON THE FUCKING PHONE!" roared a voice that apparently emanated from my throat. Next thing I knew, I'd dropped the receiver, ran down the corridor and started banging on her door. That will teach the old hag, thinks the newly awakened monster within as I hear it bellow "OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR IF YOU WANNA TALK! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" Banging away like there's no tomorrow. Utter silence from the other side. I thumped the door one last triumphant time, wrapped my performance up with a hoarse "Fuck you, bitch!" and returned to my floor, drained yet strangely triumphant.

Save for the time my dad first took me to Toys R Us and bought me a brand new purple BMX ? Best damn day of my life. Say it!

7 Comments:

  • At 8/24/2005 01:04:00 AM, Anonymous rainbow warrior said…

    Keeeeej taaaaaaaazga! Too flabbergasted right now to write anything (+ it's 3 am + too anxious to smoke my good night joint), but still I'd never have thought you'd pull this one on the poor ol' V.K.? Did ya? Or is it all baloney?

     
  • At 8/24/2005 07:15:00 AM, Blogger Poulette said…

    All true down to the last fuck you!

     
  • At 8/24/2005 07:13:00 PM, Blogger crni said…

    You need to give her some Total Bitch Cosmetics. Or maybe you need some yourself ;-)

     
  • At 8/24/2005 07:41:00 PM, Anonymous Jernej said…

    ;) what you're actually saying is that one of my neighbours is relatively normal ;)

    She's only constantly whining and telling me what I should do with my bikes (WTF do you care if I keep MY bike in MY appartment - putain!!) The old bitch also spies on me ;)

     
  • At 8/24/2005 11:11:00 PM, Blogger Poulette said…

    Crni, the Total Bitch Cosmetics link doesn't work!
    Jernej, have you tried giving her the Poulette treatment?! I can vouch for its effectiveness.

     
  • At 8/25/2005 01:19:00 PM, Blogger crni said…

    Total Bitch. Hope it works this time, damnit.

     
  • At 8/25/2005 01:50:00 PM, Anonymous rainbow warrior said…

    Wow, Crni, kej tazga, the Total Bitch collection, it is the ultimate must have, just for the design, if nothing else! Mmmm, Total Bitch Temper Tantrum Lip Gloss, sounds like something Elton John could really make good use of.

     

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