Archive for Sleep-deprivation

11 Shit Things That Make Share-House Living Suck – #4

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 4, 2008 by Buck Frain

#4. Sleep Deprivation & Forced Live Audio Porn.

 

In retrospect, the polished floorboards in the entrance hall weren’t as great an idea as they looked. When every bedroom comes off the hallway they turned out to be a complete hedgehog-stuffed-rectum amplifying even the most discreet of entrances into major seismic events. Fuck you, aesthetics! It was a bad call – go for carpet next time!

 

That’s just life, the stuff that really sand-papers my nob, however, is the blatant lack of consideration shown by supposedly civilised adults to their co-habitants. I don’t mind GTA at 3am, if I didn’t have to be up in three hours it could be me sitting in the living room belting ‘round in a stolen Camaro running over innocent bystanders and shooting gangsters. What I mind is that it’s at a volume that has the bass rattling the window in my bedroom. What the shit is wrong with you? Are you deaf? Did you forget that you don’t live alone?

 

There are various permutations of this sort of selfishness, random 4am techno music, the bastard-o’clock* pissed domestic dispute.

You’re a fuckin’ cunt! You never loved me, you just haven’t got the balls to tell me to my face!!! Have ya? Nah, I didn’t think so!

 

Let go a mah fuckin’ hair ya mad bitch! Jesus, why d’you fuckin’ reckon I drink? Couldn’t put up wi’ your shit sober!

 

I’m not stupid enough to leave my room to find out who’s stuff they’re smashing, I’ll just make sure I remember to put on shoes before I go to the loo. Even worse than the domestics though, is the forced live audio porn show. Maybe I should blame architects for poor sound insulation but – fuck it – you know you live with other people. I’m all for people having fulfilling sex lives but when I feel like I’m on the fucking sideline and all I want to do is sleep, it’s fucked. The last thing I need is to hear my nineteen year old house-mate brutally training her new beau in the delicate art of cunnilingus.

No, there. No…no…no, get over here…here!!! *slap* OW! Don’t fuckin’ bite it! Lick it, dickhead! There. There. Yeah! NO!!! *slap* There…put your finger in! No! Like this…yeah? Yeah…that’s it…yeah…no, there…NO!!! *slap slap slap* Well?…get back down!

 

Poor bastard had the absolute piss slapped out of him. He didn’t last. I admire a girl who knows what she wants but not when I’m trying to sleep. She was scary, she woke me up one night and I thought I was next-door to The Exorcist.

Fuck me Jesus! Fuck me hard, Jesus! Ooh, harder, Jesus!

 

I’m serious – she was actually calling him Jesus, not just blaspheming-in-the-heat-of-passion. I saw Jesus the next morning – his name was Brian…he didn’t even have a beard!

 

I had a room for a while next to a guy who always got himself into trouble for trying to slip his female visitors a backdoor surprise. He got a lot of very colourful reactions including a nasty cut above his eye that needed five stitches. On the other side, he once ended up with a young Greek girl he couldn’t shake for about six months, she didn’t seem to like him at all as a person – not many people did – but he had certainly touched a nerve with her.

 

I suppose it’s all terribly comical when it’s not you, isn’t it? Yeah, ha-ha-cunting-ha! But what if it is you? What if you get no sleep at all? What if you then have to do a full day’s work or uni or both and then come back to a quiet house only to have it all start again as soon as you’ve fallen asleep? It would become wearing, don’t you think? Just a bit? Sleep deprivation does bad things to people. It does very bad things to the brain and caffeine alone cannot fix them, no no no it can’t. SHUTTUP!!! IT FUCKIN’ CAN’T!!! You get too many sleepless nights due to the selfishness of the deviates you live with and you can start to lose that easy-going approach to communal living. You can get snappy, unfriendly…violent even. I don’t know, maybe I’m just a bad and intolerant person but I need my sleep. I FUCKING NEED IT!!! SO, IF YOU DON’T LET ME SLEEP, I’LL KILL YOU ALL, YOU CUNTY, CUNTY, COCK-STAPLING FUCK-FREAKS!!!

 

* Bastard o’clock –  The hour of the morning when you realise there’s too much light in the sky for there to be any hope of feeling even vaguely normal at any point during the next 24 hours.

Whose Grass Are You Really Cutting?

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 6, 2008 by Buck Frain

I worked late last night. Thankfully, I don’t work 9-5 all the time. I sometimes think the one thing that saves my sanity is that I don’t have a strict routine. Last night I finished up around midnight, got home by 1am. Of course, getting home at that time you don’t want to go to bed straight away, so I sat up and had a glass of wine and watched some TV, knowing I didn’t have to get up too early – all very civilised. 

My bedroom is being torn apart. Jesus, mother and fuck, wha…? I roll over too abrubtly and crack my eyebrow into the corner of the bedside table. ARSE!!! I’m awake. 

Still squinting one eye beneath a hot, smarting brow, I reach for my mobile to check the time. 8:30am? My middle aged neighbour is mowing his lawn, or more specifically the nature strip outside my fence AT 8:30am! BASTARD BASTARD BASTARD!!! Between him and me there’s a wooden fence and a glass sliding door – he might as well be mowing my fucking doona! What the fuck sort of person does this? Who the fuck are these people who have nothing better to do at 8:30am than mow their cunting lawn? This fucker is constantly mowing his lawn. He must have fucking mowed it twice a week every week since I moved in, it’s a miracle there’s any fucking grass left. I’m serious, the mad bastard’s out there every three or four days mowing! What the shitting pissflaps drives a person to obsess like this over a fucking shitty piece of lawn? 

It’s not a golf green. It’s a pissy triangle of lawn on a corner block and a nature strip outside his fence. With water restrictions he hasn’t been allowed to water the shit for years, but arse-rape me with a bag of carrots if the old ballbag’s not out there twice a fucking week trimming the cunting Jesus out of it. I think he must be retired, he’s always at home and only other thing he does is have screaming matches with his wife through the kitchen window. Now, that’s just fucking weird, and that always happens first thing in the morning too. It’s always the fucking same – with him in the garden and her indoors screaming at each other through the closed kitchen window – at least no-one gets hit. They’re Greek so I don’t understand a fucking word of it but I think that may be a blessing. Who the hell wants to know what two people, who’ve been married way too long, scream at each other about? But I do think about it – well, it’s not like I’ve got any choice when it wakes me up and sounds like they’re actually in my house. Part of me really wants to know what they scream about. Maybe I could help. 

Today it came to me. The lawn. It’s a metaphor. They’re an older couple and things have cooled down. She must have a big-ol’-retro-bush, she wants action, but he wants some new-school-pruned-punani. The manic mowing and the frustrated screaming – it’s all part of the same problem. What a thoroughly disgusting revelation – fuck you, brain! But, fuck, that’s what it is, I’m certain of it. The real question is whether they’re actually talking about it. Are they actually yelling at each other about it or do they shout about petty domestic trivialities unaware that the whole problem is a difference of aesthetic tastes in personal grooming and an inability to be sexually open with each other? That’d be a fucking tragedy, an ugly tragedy… but a tragedy nonetheless. If I could solve this I’d be able to get some fuckin’ sleep. But what the fuck could I realistically do? Leave subtle presents in their letter-box? Razors, wax strips, hair removal cream? That’s pretty fuckin’ scary. I’m so fucked off from sleep-deprivation I just want to run out into my yard and shriek at the top of my lungs: For fuck’s sake, SHAVE YOUR FUCKIN’ PUSSY AND LET ME GET SOME SLEEP!!!

Yeah…that could work. It could… On the other hand it could just get me murdered, there’s no explaining that shit away. BASTARD! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST FUCKIN MOW AFTER 10???