Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Chicken Karma

I started my weekend screaming into the petrified face of a young man, one of my hands pinning his body to a wall, the other prodding sharply into his chest, while my mouth formed words pertaining to violence. Within four days, I had realised just how badly I had broken a girl's heart, completely ruined any chance of a reconciliation (and a long weekend in New York), and have now picked up a fucking cold.

That would be Karma then.

Thursday night. I had spent two consecutive days punching thin air at my Martial Arts classes and sweating like a sober High Court Judge amid the general populace. By the time I went to bed that second night, my body was like lead. So I didn't much appreciate being roused at 5:30am to the sound of Tsch-Tsch-Tsch-Tsch-Tsch-Tsch BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM etc.
Fortunately for my neighbour, I was too tired to move, let alone get dressed to walk next door and pick a fight so I stayed put, prone, too tired to do anything but get angry.

I called his landlord for the fifty-eighth time and left a drowsy message saying that his tenant was up to his old tricks again, and DO SOMETHING. And then, after half an hour, I passed out. When I woke up, I found myself too tired to cycle to work so I composed a letter for my neighbour ('IF YOU WAKE ME UP ONE MORE TIME, I WILL THROW YOUR STEREO OUT THE FUCKING WINDOW') and walked off to stick it to his door prior to getting the tube.

The front door was off the hinges as per usual, so I walked up to the top flat. The door wasn't locked so I walked right in to the communual hallway and up to his bedroom door where I noticed it open. So I knocked.
A stoned French youth, somewhat displeased that someone had woken him up, looked at me with confusion.
'Morning, mate', I said cheerily, as I punched the note onto his chest and walked off.

'What is zis?' he said, following me to the doorway. I snapped, grabbed him by the arm and pushed him against the wall, where I began jabbing him with my index finger to emphasize certain words.
'This is a fucking letter telling you to STOP PLAYING MUSIC AT FIVE THIRTY IN THE MORNING'.
'Five zirty? Really?'
'Uh, yeah, Five-Thirty,' I said, mimicking his faux-disbelief, then breaking character to pull him noze-to-noze with me and hiss 'I would be cycling to work today but instead I'm too tired and I have to get the tube. YOU - ARE - MAKING - ME - CHANGE - MY - LIFE.'

And with that, I threw him back into his flat and shut his door in case he did anything stupid like talk back. I then huffed downstairs where the lady who runs the newsagent on street level - yet to open - had been listening from her landing.

'If he wakes you up again,' I told her, 'let me know'.

And then I stormed off on my journey to work so lost in dark thoughts and so angry with myself for threatening some kid that I forgot to wear my iPod.

I went on to spend that weekend doing very little. Besides, I wanted to save my money for New York as I was planning to visit my on/off American girlfriend.


On/Off American girlfriend and I had a little emailing session today. For the last week or so, I've been trying to get a suitable date to fly over but she's not just provided me with zero dates, she's also barely been in touch. Until today.

When, in a nutshell, I was sent an email: 'Fuck You'.

It appears that she's gone through all the emotions of being dumped by me and is now firmly in Hate. She mentioned that I only like her now that I can't have her, and if I really wanted to see her that badly, all I'd ever had to do was get on a plane, but now I can't do that because I'm too Chicken.

Plus I'd have to spring for a hotel instead of her free bed. But she's a romantic and sees me crippling myself finacially as somehow cute and endearing. So, I could go to New York anyway but the chances are I'd discover she really does hate me and that's too much for me to take.
Or I could just wander about aimlessly while I come to terms with the fact that I've burnt all my bridges with her and my right hand will be forevermore a stranger to anyone else's sexual organs barring my own all too familiar member. She was the closest I've ever come to a perfect girlfriend, except for the living 4,000 miles apart (Ideal, for some men).

And now I have a cold. I would like the day off work tomorrow but I'd feel too guilty not going in.

Bollocks and Dammits.

If I don't have a shag with someone by my 33rd birthday, I will have to start considering other Mammals.


Anonymous said...

Welcome to the club -- I also have a really terrible cold... and I feel completely pissy and grumpy. Give yourself a bit of a break, Fweng. Allow yourself to change your mind another few times before making your final decision about New York.

When's your 33rd birthday (so we know when to send the hooker)?

The Hobo said...

There is always Catherine.

Apparently according to one of my girlfriend's friends she would fancy you... and take pity on you...

...and fuck you

She likes older men.

She is 24

VI said...

Yep fwenge, get your friends to pimp for you! That's the way to do it!

Sergent Little Bird, reporting for duty said...

Poor Fwenge.

I can sympathise on the neighbour front, mine is just the same.

Next time the french twit does it don't write to the landlord, call the police. If they get enough complaints, they get the right to take the offending equipment away.

Write to your council as well, the landlord can be fined if he doesn't do something about a tenant that is causing a public nuisance. The council should have a website that tells you about noise issues and what you can do to get redress.

VI said...

Oh and Fwenge, Fussy Bitch is hunting you down! You really shouldn't make sarky remarks about Chiswick!

luna said...

You can call the council's noise inspectors at any time of the day or night and they'll show up straightaway to the frog's nest without mentioning your name.
To lend weight to your complaint you might want to gang up with other neighbours who are also fed up and make a joint one.

As for the ex...I am lost for words.
How did that happen?Can someone demonstrate to her she's getting in a twist over a cultural thing,Big Gestures are just not British.How vulgar.
Or is she trying to get out of the Valentine's date?
Sigh!Make that two dozen red roses then...

The Girl said...


Use your wit, be original, and include a pic if you can. You never know until you've tried it...


fwengebola said...

LFM ~ Darn, my cold's not too bad so I'm gonna cycle in to work. I reckon NY's off, so that'll be the end of that. Shouldn't imagine I'll see her again. Although my birthday is 5th May, same as hers eerily enough. May have to send a brief birthday email or something.
Hobo ~ Catherine? Suggested by your girlfriend's friend? Wait a minute, was this suggestion made by that girl a few weeks ago at yours? Am I being fucking palmed off now?
Yeah, set me up.
Vi ~ Women & work, I don't mind (And disturbingly Hobo's done both).
LB ~ How come you've always got loads of advice on banking or annoying neighbours?
Vi ~ I made sarky remarks about Chiswick now? But I like it here.
Lune ~ Again, thanks for the advice. Dunno why the ex has become angrier, but there we go.
TG ~ I've never told anyone this, but I don't put my genitals just anywhere. God knows why. Although I did snap about a year ago and sent my photo to 'Busty Minx (30) looking for NSA fun'.
I didn't hear back so I donated my penis to science. (Again).
Still, in theory it makes sense.
Maybe that's the future...

The Girl said...

Fwenge, I said nothing about you putting a picture of your penis up online (nice though I'm sure it is). A face pic, however, is a different matter: I think you'd find many more women responding to that, than just a graphic image of a body part.

I'm speaking for myself of course, but I'm sure other women would agree with me.

The Girl said...

Oh, hold on. I might have misread your reply. Rather than talking about your genitals being pictured, were you instead commenting that you're fussy about whom you shag?

In which case, oops, I got the wrong end of the stick, as it were, and take my last comment back. Obviously I have a one-track mind, hence my misinterpreting what you said.

As you were.

Fussy Bitch said...

Lemsip Max.

I'll be back to check on you later.

Venting said...

Lemsip always works for me (I even get people to send me some here in Canada because we don't have it here and I can't stand being sick without Lemsip).

I agree with calling the council. Here, if you call the police about noise they show up right away (I'm guessing because they have nothing else to do). Maybe give that a try?

Huw said...

iPod amnesia is a pain in the arse. I usually experience it when I'm a bit tipsy, and am dead bored waiting for a bus in the freezing cold at 2am.

Sergent Little Bird, reporting for duty said...

Fwenge my knowledge knows bounds, it's just you have problems that I have some expertise in.

Banks because I... ahem...(said under my breath) work for one (please don't hate me for it), and neighbours because I have an arsehole ned for a neighbour who has no respect for anyone.

I'm sure eventually you'll have a problem for which I have no advice.

fwengebola said...

TG ~ Bwuh? In fairness, I see where you're coming from, so to speak. I'm afraid I'm inexplicably fussy and although I whinge ad nauseam about my lack of sex, I do find it an intimate rarity to warrant where Fweng Jr goes. And he has been to some very exotic places.

(Once upon a time.)

FB ~ How I laughed. I'd just got back from Boots with some Lemsip Max when I read that.
Venting ~ Welcome. I did contact the council at the first sound of trouble. I had forms to fill out while they sent a letter to the lads, who largely ignored it once they were high. Meanwhile, the Police seem to have bigger fish to fry.
Huw ~ Welcome 2. Normally I jump at the opportunity to listen to my iPod (although I've stopped listening to it as no amount of decent music - and Eminem - can compare to remaining alive), but now and again, reaching a destination realising I've accidentally had to listen to Real Life is a real bummer.
SLB ~ At ease, bankmonkey. I still await your expertise on all topics I have issues with, such as Shall I Go To New York anyway? Actually, don't answer that.
Ah, the humble Ned. Like a Chav, but Scottish.

fwengebola said...

Huw addendum ~ Whilst cycling, I've stopped listening to my iPod whilst cycling. There. That should make more sense.
But little interest.

Anonymous said...

Fweng Jr.

Snicker snicker.

Tell us about the exotic places, Fweng Sr.

luna said...

If it's a toss between your willy and the pic up on your blog,please show off the old penis any time.
Trust me,you'll have more success.(so I hope)

As for the noisy frog:time for a bit of staging.Why not round up a couple of your drama student mates or old media acquaintances to dress up and impersonate 2 council officers,giving him a stiff verbal warning?
I'm sure there are loads of nonjobbing The Bill bitparts that would love to set it up.
You could even have them tape the thing secretly and post it on your blog for us to have a laugh at.
I bet it will work.

Methinks your ex has been doing those mag quizzes "Is he really into you?" or the likes and you didn't score very high in them,have you looked up this month's issues of US Glamour and Cosmo??
Well it's not gonna sweeten her up to send her a birthday mail,even her washing powder company is going come up with one...
Why won't you make a bit of an effort,handwrite a pretty,arty card,add a little box of fudge(very you),in short,treat her differently than you would the Hobo!

If you haven't blagged a shag by May,we'll forward your adress to the zookeepers of this delightful lonely single baboon girl who had her pic in the free paper the other day,she's very sad that her boyf has been lent to do his gigolo routine.
May you have plenty of ginger babies together.

Will said...

Re the music-playing Frenchman, you are now officially my hero. Also, was it Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince he was playing?

fwengebola said...

LFM ~ France, Ireland, Sweden, The USA (twice). I call it 'Eighty Lays around the World'. Because I'm sad.
Lune ~ My penis is my own affair. Ahem. Only several dozen photos exist. And I'm sure my ex has been soliciting advice from everywhere.
Ah, whatever.
Will ~ 'Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep' by the Tweets, as I recall.