“Stupid Fat Whore”


Yes, I just got called that by my skanky new neighbour’s drunk American buddy when I dared to leave my flat at 12.45am to ask them to Stop Revving the Fucking Car and also, Are The Even Entitled to a Car Bay? (answer, no)

Ensue: unnecessary verbal abuse from said skank and her beardy US mates.

For the record I am neither Stupid (two degrees), Fat (pretty much at the normal BMI) nor a Whore (have never been paid for sex, but in retrospect, probably should have been by some people).

To add more to the mix I have been upstairs to the woman in the flat above me TWICE to knock on the door and please request whatever renovations/slave children making wallets and dropping marbles they are engaging in, please, for the love of god, do not continue until 3am as usual. The lights are on. No response.

So, I’m Liz Lemon. I’ve already written to the strata about the cunt and her dickhead friends upstairs (you own the flat? I don’t Fucking Think So Bitch) and tomorrow I am getting the council to check out the cottage industry, possibly with poor trafficked women, to see what the fuck you are up to lady. I’m not a massive bitch. I just want life to be easy and plain sailing and nice, which it can be if we all just get along and be decent.  And you don’t call me a Stupid Fat Whore. Good luck snorting your poor man’s coke. Hope you don’t have a major heart attack and die and then your dickhead friends who think so highly of me because I’m actually a reasonable person go to jail because it was their fault and they tried to chop up your body and throw it in Lake Monger and then got caught because THEY are the Stupid Fat Whores. (Yes, I have a good imagination)

Wow. I outdid myself there. Fully expect my car to be key-ed tomorrow. Shit. Nothing good comes of being a good neighbour. I even cried into Raphael’s towling dressing gown tonight when he came out to see what was up. He was very sweet.

Anyway, the whole thing is, just like the last place (and this is my own fault this time) I don’t feel safe anymore. I thought I could stand up for the right thing but I can’t. It just gets you hurt or threatened or at the very least makes you scared.

This is the last thing I need. I’m already alone, with all the stuff and all the things. Now I’ve got to be scared leaving my front door. Violent, ignorant, cuntish people are different that the rest of us. I should not have messed with them, but this is where I live. I own this. It is mine. My place, My escape. And now I’m scared Ill reap the whirlwind. Because people like that don’t care. Whether I’m a living target or not, it doesn’t matter. Some cunt is stealing my newspapers every morning. Now some crazy bitch upstairs wants me dead.

I can’t handle much more.

Advertisements

About ohhellwhatthehell

I like gin, mittens and otters, not necessarily in that order. Here's some stuff I felt like writing down when I'm not chained to a desk writing other things for a living. Please use caution when using this site; there may be sweary words, cute animals and general bullshit. Don't say I didn't fucking warn you.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s