There are three kinds of I-am-going-to-punch-you-in-the-face alarms.
Type A: If you are in the same room as my sister, then this one goes like – ‘Wake up, wake up, wake up; it’s a brand new dayyyy-a-yyy”. But since it’s from her phone the urge to crush Ms Polite Lady’s song is often kept within wraps.
Type B: Your body clock. Mine’s 12 pm *sheepishly bats eyelids to appear cute and avoid embarrassment*
Type C: One that woke me up from my afternoon siesta (arrrrr, some Spanish coolness for my readers = only me).
Type C noise appeared to come from the neighbours – Mr Coco and family (Gosh! There’s a very funny story in here. I promise I will write about it soon). And since there was someone fighting, I picked up my skirts -like the lady would usually do in the Tom & Jerry Show (only I was wearing shorts!!) – and ran to the balcony to get my daily dose of entertainment.
I mean, I am just too posh to fight in public like that considering my coolness quotient… BUT, there is absolutely no reason why I couldn’t or shouldn’t take a peek.
The fight broke out between the family and relatives of the maintenance guy who lives with his wife and two children right beneath our apartment. It was loud, like King Kong loud – okay not that loud, but quite loud to wake me up, a person who will continue to sleep even if a rat farts on her face. Eww! I hope that never happens though. Hmm, what if it already has? *I’ll never know, I’ll never know*
The heated exchange ensued for more than an hour and during that time, I tried my best to peep from the shadows of the curtain on what exactly was going on. If curiosity doesn’t kill the cat, it sure does make one act like a lizard stuck to the wall. *It rhymes! It rhymes! I am getting a little better at this*
After the party broke off, I finally had something exciting news to tell my sister when she asked: “How was your day?” which was followed by my eyes popping out a little and voice becoming a little like Batman, “You know what?!”
As we debated on what could have really been the reason (which was really not that exciting when we came to know about it), I ended the discussion with: “Gosh! I wonder how can people fight on the streets like that. How uncouth!”
Which brings me to:
1) I am such a judgmental freak
2) I am such a judgmentally hypocritical freak
To say I have never had an ugly argument behind closed doors would be akin to me saying that I have more Oscar nominations to my credit than Meryl Streep = impossible. Just because nobody has seen my unmentionables (now don’t think dirty!) in public, doesn’t mean the skeleton isn’t living and breathing inside my closet. How then am I different than the ones who fight on the streets, in front of people to watch and judge.
I am no different. I am only a lot more cowardly. At least the others wash their dirty laundry in public, mine just keeps piling up and stinking the whole place; and I am quite certain very soon I will have no place to store it.