Narcissistic Pessiminst

The other night I was woken up by my upstairs neighbours whose incessant, raucous humping and related noises cut straight through my earplugs. I, of course, asses the situation in terms of how their lovemaking, or as it sounded, hatemaking, negatively affected me.

My first worry? That they would crash through the roof like that commercial where the pretty lady in the bathtub falls into the lonely bachelors living room. Except it would be the upstairs pornstars falling onto lonely me, obviously killing me. My obituary would be in the joke section of the newspaper: "Unemployed University Grad Killed by Sex Fiends" (they would of course mention the unemployment factor as salt on postmortem wounds) or "Randy Couple Crashes in on Innocent Neighbour" or "Anal Sex Kills Bystander (Wounds Recipient)"

My second worry? That what I was hearing was not in fact sex, but the sound of a woman being tortured and/or killed. And then I'd have to explain to the police officer that I am a pervert who can't tell the difference between sex and death. En francais c'est petite mort monsieur! I thought she was just having a tres grande petite mort, not a vrai mort.

Actually I did not think she was having any kind of mort. She wasn't fooling anyone, even one floor down. I will attempt to recreate this audio experience for you:

Thump thump thump, ahh! ahh! ahhhhh! Silence...................
Thumpthump. Thumpthump. OH! AH! WOW! Silence.................
Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump. Yes! AHHH! ARGH! Silence.........................

I don't know what the the silent bits were about, or how she managed to walk out of there without limping, but I was thankful when the thump thumps turned into the sound of heels on the staircase. What no cuddle? No breakfast in the morning? Well, this isn't Pretty Woman at all. This is Reasonably Priced Woman With a Full Night's Schedule Ahead of Her.

On that note..........baby pandas!!!!

Seeeeew Coot! I hope they never have sex.