Outstaying a welcome

We're fast outstaying our welcome with Algae and her increasingly-annoying daughter with the name I'm no longer arsed remembering. The former has taken to lying at a rate only beaten by the speed at which her never-ending house rules arrive.
The latter, meanwhile, is driving me demented with her incessant Michael Jackson. It really is remarkable. He's on repeat day and night without interruption, unless she herself is singing one of his whingiest and most annoying songs. "You are not alone..." The other day, she was interrupted mid-warble when her phone rang - a Michael Jackson ringtone! One pathetic whinge disrupted by another.
One should never speak ill of the dead, unless it's Hitler, Stalin or Cromwell, but has everyone forgotten about the allegations of child abuse, bribing victims, and all the other shady dealings reported/made-up by the media? Is Michael Jackson now a saint?! It certainly appears so in Perú, where his music is blasted out non-stop and without pity. I wouldn't be surprised if the fucker isn't dead at all, but surrounded by paid subjects living in a cave cackling weakly through his breathing apparatus at all the increased money he's making following his alleged demise.
Unfortunately, the playing of Wacko Jacko hasn't been banned under Algae's house rules, but just about everything else has. We've actually been given our own designated cups after she found four cups in our room. Imagine! Four cups! I don't know why she didn't call the police. She complained they had no cups to drink from and so the next day two designated cups were put aside for our use. Jenny later counted more than 15 cups in the cupboard. "There's no way they could have run out of cups," she rightly pointed out.
Lately, we've been locked out of the apartment at night. Algae keeps "forgetting" to take the key back out of the door from the inside after locking it. Feck it, it's her we keep waking up to let us in again. Her sickeningly-sweet apologies every night ring as true as a certain Frenchman's.
Every day we're asked to do something else, something pedantic and pointless, but which collectively show the woman is a nut, just one hair from having a hairy canary over the littlest offences. You'd swear we were thrashing the place but we'd actually been taking great care not to leave any signs of our presence.
Yesterday, as I was eating my dinner, she flew into the kitchen and demanded I wash the frying pan I'd left in the sink. "I need to cook," she barked, unable to wait until I'd finished eating. Other offences include cooking with garlic, waterdrops on the floor, using a fruit-knife to cut vegetables, water on the outside of the kettle, and not using the shower-curtain in a correct manner.
This morning she announced that she didn't realise we were going to use the kitchen for cooking. It was a "misunderstanding" when we talked about it before we moved in. I suppose she thought we wanted to sleep in it. Now, of course, she wants us to pay more money.
That's not even the best one however. Last week I switched on the computer to find it was protected with a password. "¿Que es la contraseña?" I asked the daughter.
"¿Contraseña?!" she repeated with forced incredulity. "There must be something wrong. How could that be?" She fiddled around and input a few fake passwords, before shrugging her shoulders and informing me she didn't know what was wrong with the computer.
"Someone put a password on it. That's what's wrong with it," I told her. "If you don't know what it is, then Algae knows what it is. Someone knows what it is."
But she just shrugged her shoulders in ignorance.
The following day Algae didn't know what it was either, before making up some bullshit about calling the telephone company to sort out the connection. "I don't need the internet," I told her, "I just need to get at my photos and documents."
Again, blatant ignorance and lies. Didn't know what the password was. Didn't know when the man was coming to fix the computer.
The next day the computer wasn't there anymore. It had been moved, desk, stool and all, into Algae's bedroom! This was the last straw. I told her yesterday morning I needed to use the computer, to get my photos and documents from it. (These are the photos with which I was hoping to finally adorn the blog.)
"But the computer's in my room," she replied.
"Yes. And I need to get my photos and documents back."
"But my room isn't very tidy."
"I won't be long. I just need five minutes. I need to get my photos and documents back."
I then told her if she didn't want us using her computer she should simply have told us so, instead of telling us that it was fine to use it, then putting passwords on it, lying about not knowing what what they were, and then moving the damned computer into her bedroom.
I'm not letting it go. This morning I asked her again, and she finally said I could use the computer this evening. It'll give her time to tidy her room, move the damn computer back, or, perhaps more likely, come up with some more bullshit and lies.


  1. dude , that old bat is cruising..big time....my auld grany was the same way.just drop your cacks at her and shake thelad from left to right then scream at her 'DO I LOOK LIKE I'M MESSINGAROUND HERE OLD MAN!'..lemme at the PfookinC...ya aul cow..
    try it, then ctrl alt delete...works for me

    and dude...Mezouar said...that you have to 'take' Mezouar ,,for a few days, get some rest dude. jenny will be mad thou...
    anyhow leave that hell hole now!

  2. You're a sick puppy man.
    You're right about the aul cow though...

  3. it was just a scare tactic!


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