Got your freak flags out? Let em fly.
What is it with cheap motels and squeaky floors?
Just like there is an art to making a squeak free floor, there must be a polar opposing art to making one that squeaks that badly.
Maybe the squeeking flooring masters, much like the Persian rug weavers of old feel that perfection is the sole realm of the Almighty and insert a squeaky flaw as a sign of respect.
Either way, I cannot take a step anywhere inside the bathroom without announcing to the other residents in neighboring rooms that I intend to flip trout.
I even tried to limit my time doing anything in the bathroom, toilet related or not, just so they wouldn’t think I had picked up a sudden case of Montezuma’s Revenge. (No need to Google that. Monty’s revenge is a wicked case of the shits.)
Although, I question the repairs that are obvious throughout the room.
The door jam is a darkly stained wood. But someone kicked in the door at one time or another and tore out the completely ineffective door chain. The replacement wood is white and unstained.
And when someone scratches graffiti into the surface of a mirror, you have to replace the mirror. You cannot sand that section of the mirror or IT STOPS BEING A MIRROR. But thats just me, I can be picky.
And while I have never heard of using spackle to repair the side of a tv, I applaude the ingenuity. However, if that method of repair is why only 3 channels are available, perhaps they should have used a different type of filler compound.
I had originally decided not to mention the tenants in the room next door, but I kind of feel like I have to now.
I try not to judge, (We all know I do, but I am on my soap box) and I am a firm believer in the rights of people to do whatever vile thing you want, as long as it doesn’t involve me. (Unless I am invited, then I am MUCH more understanding.)
But the lady next door has the ugliest sounding orgasm I have ever heard.
I think if your orgasm has a high end fugly factor, it is perfectly acceptable to fake it at that point.
How the guy did not suffer spontaneous ED is beyond me.
At first I was hoping that she was alone and the only thing being abused was a vibrator or innocent piece of fruit. (Not that I would wish that on anyone, but inanimate objects accept pain so much better than we do. Or maybe they just can’t speak, so we don’t know. But Pfizer doesn’t make Viagra for fruit, so I think I am in the right here. And while we are here, I have never heard of a cucumber screaming or crying.)
Anyway, as I type this, the unpleasant freak show next door is on round three. I may have ED for the rest of my life.
When I first heard and realized what was going on, I smiled, thinking that something naughty and fun was in the offing.
And then, much like getting a strong whiff of sour milk, I suddenly lost my appetite.
And that is tough to do, I have a libido like a runaway freight train, destructive and single minded in purpose.
But the train is currently off of the tracks. Let Freud make of that what he will.
The way I figured out that she had a partner is when I heard him groan.
It sounded like a groan of pain, or maybe a sob.
I wonder if that kills her unpleasant orgasm when her partner sobs uncontrollably?
Or does she even notice?
When a jackal tears the throat out of a water buffalo, does it wonder how the water buffalo feels about all of that?
In the end, I went looking for a cheap motel and that is exactly what I got.
At least I didn’t get crabs from the bed.
So thats a bonus.