Last night I was unable to sleep, because there were just simply too many Category 3 Brits running around screaming at the top of their voices. I saw white confetti raining down from all the third floor windows onto the grass below. The next day I found out they were shredded revision notes. Well, figures.
There were also other stuff being flung out of windows. Walking back to my hall after returning from dinner, I saw a whole torrent of liquid gushing down. I looked up, and from the third storey there were 2 Brits emptying their beer bottles. After doing that, they just chucked the bottles out, and they smashed onto the ground a few metres behind me.
Hey killer litter yo! But I realised this is Britain. They don't have a concept of killer litter. After all, if you get smashed by a beer bottle on the head here, you probably don't stand to lose much. I mean, how much dumber than dumb can you get. One of the guys then shouted "Konichiwa" at me but I ignored him. I rather they shout "Konichiwa" than "Ni hao", because it's still cooler being mistaken for a Japanese.
Anyway, on an unrelated note, this is the reason why I eat out nowadays. There's no point in cooking if there is never any sink space for you to wash up after that.Later from my room, I heard the noise of lots of drunken Brits outside. I decided to stay in, but when I finally had to come out to use the toilet, I had the good fortune to see stuff I didn't want to see. It could best be described as "good things, just on the wrong people." And there were pictures of a naked guy plastered all over the flat that said "Please do not feed". Yeah, feed what? On second thoughts, please don't answer that.
One of the things they plaster around my flat. It's the tamest already, but you get the idea. Obviously I didn't want to upload the pictures of the naked guy.Later, my door started rattling because there was loud music being played and people were constantly moving in and out of the flat. Every time they opened the main door of the flat and left it to slam, my door would rattle. And 5 seconds later, they would exit, more of the same. And when the music got to certain bits, same thing.
I actually feared for my door, because just yesterday I had to take apart the lock and fix it, because it had been rattled out of position and I couldn't lock my door. The last thing I'd want is to live in my hall without the security of a locked door between me and madness.
At 2am, they decided that being noisy wasn't enough, so they held a mock fashion parade. with a guy dressed up as a woman. He was wearing a long green skirt, complete with one of those belts girls use to tighten the waist area for long dresses. You know, those brown ones with huge buckles. He also had green stockings on and brown heels, and it was completed by a handbag. But I knew it was definitely a guy because his hair was too short and no girl has shoulders that broad. They took so many pictures the flashes made me think it was lightning or something. It made me happy because I thought they'd finally leave when it rained. But when I got up to check, I realised it was just their cameras.
The "lady" in question. The guy standing behind is security. They got so noisy security actually came to check. Not like it stopped their nonsense though.I'm always asked why I don't join in their parties. Well, I don't know man. I don't exactly enjoy destroying the infrastructure of my own flat. I mean, if they invited me to destroy the stuff in their flats, hell yeah. I'd make them proud. Why use beer bottles if you can use chairs? And why use chairs if you can use THE WOK.
The WOK. Alternatively known as a club, a gong, and a weapon of mass destruction.Sorry, I hate that wok. It's my greatest enemy when my flatmates and their friends go crazy. I mean at least beer bottles break and that's it. The damn thing resonates, and it doesn't even dent after being smashed against the wall a million times.
But it's always my flat. Now my whole staircase landing is dark because the Brits destroyed every single staircase light fixture from levels 1 to 4, and I have a feeling my good friend the wok had a hand in it.
See that? Yeah. I thought pictures would be the best form of expression to show the level of destruction my flat endures every week.The day I move out I'm going to find that wok, and put it in recycling. I don't care who it belongs to. May you come back as something less irritating.