House of Pure Evil
Did you see that crappy paranormal thriller thing on the BBC last night? Rubbish, wasn't it? One hour of story stretched to 2 hours. I won't dignify it with a name. Suffice it to day, it was like the X Files but without the good bits. Not a patch on my own rejected idea, "Strange Fish," which is what the BBC are crying out for, but they'd have to beg me to write it.
So Dog puts me in mind of some of the horrors of my flat sharing days. My first year at university, I was stuffed in with 5 lads, 10 years younger than me, who used to sit in the kitchen talking in really loud voices, whilst at the same time playing CDs very loudly in each of their rooms. You'd think this would be a phase they'd get over, but they never did. They carried on the "Look at me, look at me" competitiveness throughout the whole year. It was unbearable, so I took to spending every night round at my girlfriend's place because (a) it was quieter, and (b) she had a telly.
The boys went out one night, leaving me alone for once, but not in peace, because one of them left a CD on repeat play, extremely loud. At first I thought he was in his room, which is probably what he wanted people to think. Eventually, I switched the electricity off at the mains, a tactic I used one or two other times. This whole business of playing your own CDs really loud while everyone else is doing the same thing has cured me forever, really, of ever playing something I'm listening to for someone. Nobody wants to know. It's okay to talk about, but dn't expect anyone to listen. I even switch off the CD player in the car when someone else is there.
Anyway, year two I was in with a bunch of older guys. There was a semi-autistic guy who rarely spoke. There was a stoner, who was pretty good fun, except he was going out with someone who was best friends with my now ex-girlfriend from the first year. So I kept having to see her wimpering about how much I'd hurt her. There was a depressive philosophy student who was OK most of the time (though I avoided him ever after). And there was a twat Dental student, who had the best (i.e. biggest room) and drove some kind of flash car and treated the rest of us like servants.
That was the best of the 3 years. Final year, I had a Twin, who was an idiot; George the Greek, who was fat and smelly, and Pedro the Wolf Boy. I can't remember who else. Pedro the Wolf Boy was a horribly scarred individual who looked like he'd had his head dunked in a vat of boiling oil. But I didn't hold that against him. What I held against him was (a) the smelly portugese dried fish he used to cook for hours on end, stinking the whole flat out; and (b) the fact that he shed black hair on every surface, so that when you got into the shower, it was like standing on a bed of pine needles.
They were also nocturnal, all of them, and seemed to compete to see who went to bed last. So at 3 o clock in the morning, one of them would go out and use bathrooom before bedtime, and then half an hour later, another one would do the same. I used to lie there listening to them, unable to sleep because of all the noise. My tolerance of insomniacs is now zero.
Ah, happy days.
So Dog puts me in mind of some of the horrors of my flat sharing days. My first year at university, I was stuffed in with 5 lads, 10 years younger than me, who used to sit in the kitchen talking in really loud voices, whilst at the same time playing CDs very loudly in each of their rooms. You'd think this would be a phase they'd get over, but they never did. They carried on the "Look at me, look at me" competitiveness throughout the whole year. It was unbearable, so I took to spending every night round at my girlfriend's place because (a) it was quieter, and (b) she had a telly.
The boys went out one night, leaving me alone for once, but not in peace, because one of them left a CD on repeat play, extremely loud. At first I thought he was in his room, which is probably what he wanted people to think. Eventually, I switched the electricity off at the mains, a tactic I used one or two other times. This whole business of playing your own CDs really loud while everyone else is doing the same thing has cured me forever, really, of ever playing something I'm listening to for someone. Nobody wants to know. It's okay to talk about, but dn't expect anyone to listen. I even switch off the CD player in the car when someone else is there.
Anyway, year two I was in with a bunch of older guys. There was a semi-autistic guy who rarely spoke. There was a stoner, who was pretty good fun, except he was going out with someone who was best friends with my now ex-girlfriend from the first year. So I kept having to see her wimpering about how much I'd hurt her. There was a depressive philosophy student who was OK most of the time (though I avoided him ever after). And there was a twat Dental student, who had the best (i.e. biggest room) and drove some kind of flash car and treated the rest of us like servants.
That was the best of the 3 years. Final year, I had a Twin, who was an idiot; George the Greek, who was fat and smelly, and Pedro the Wolf Boy. I can't remember who else. Pedro the Wolf Boy was a horribly scarred individual who looked like he'd had his head dunked in a vat of boiling oil. But I didn't hold that against him. What I held against him was (a) the smelly portugese dried fish he used to cook for hours on end, stinking the whole flat out; and (b) the fact that he shed black hair on every surface, so that when you got into the shower, it was like standing on a bed of pine needles.
They were also nocturnal, all of them, and seemed to compete to see who went to bed last. So at 3 o clock in the morning, one of them would go out and use bathrooom before bedtime, and then half an hour later, another one would do the same. I used to lie there listening to them, unable to sleep because of all the noise. My tolerance of insomniacs is now zero.
Ah, happy days.
posted by Anonymous at
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
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