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It's a complex life.

Posted by bloodlicker
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on Wednesday, 07 November 2007
in Digital Blogs

I have recently moved into a new place with two of my friends, which is in a complex. Now I say "place" because frankly I have no idea what to call the “place”. Is it a house, an apartment or a shack? So I stay in your typical complex. You have an entrance which looks exactly the same as the entrance to the complex next door. We have a water fountain as you drive in. We have brick roads and about 100 units all of which are encircled with electrified fencing and spike’s the size of daggers. We happen to stay next door to the Head of the Body Corporate. Why they have to use a name like that I have no idea. It sounds stupid and has no meaning to what they do. Now from the look of things she makes the law of the complex. Which are ridicules? You can not drive faster than 0.5 km/h or you will be fined. You may not have your car radio on or you will be fined again. You also can not talk louder than a whisper or you will get a call from the security office telling you to shut up. It then takes you 3 hours to decode what the security guard is trying to say. So when you have been in for a week or so you start bumping into people who want to chit chat, which to be quit honest with you I hate. I like to keep to myself and I wish people would stop waving at me because I do not feel like waving back at you. There was one encounter with a member of the same complex as me that was not all that bad. It happened on a Saturday afternoon. I was doing the usual thing, sitting on my bottom, trying to find something to watch on TV. When all of a sudden there was a knock at the door. First it took me 5 hours to get to the door. It’s quit an effort to get up when you suffering from a huge hangover from the previous nights drinking antics. When I did open the door I was some what blown away, because there in front of me stood a woman in a bikini. The only thing that came out of my mouth was Hellooooo. She then said that she was sorry for not been dressed, to which I replied no problem. She then introduced her self and said she was from unit 17 and then went on about sun tanning or something. At this point I could not focus on what she was saying. All I could focus on were her tits. You can just imagine what was going through my numb, hangover brain. I still had no idea why she was here and what she wanted. She handed me a piece of paper, which had the entire rules and regulations on it. She then told me to come round to her place to sign a piece of paper saying that I have received the rules. After the whole incident I was most upset. If this had happened to someone else she would have been a hot, pot smoking hippy, who came to invite then for a shag on the white shag rag. What do I get a piece of paper telling me not to move or make a sound, which I am sure they forgot to deliver to unit 68? Every morning, at about half past dark time, the pretty blond with a tattoo on her bottom from unit 68 start’s her Nissan sentra. The car has an exhaust the size of a jet engine and also sounds like a jet engine. She then takes for ever to reverse out of the garage, while at the same time making more noise than a Boeing 747 on take off. Then instead of reversing up the road that leads down to her garage, which by the way is about as long as my pinky finger. She has to do a 3 point turn, oh sorry my mistake. It’s more like a 303 point turn, while at the same time got the throttles to her 4 Rolls Royce engines, which are consuming around 2 tons of air per second, at full throttle.Next problem, The complex swimming pool, we have one in our complex. The one we have is about the size of your kitchen sink. With 2oo or so people staying in the complex we have a problem. My solution to the problem is to make use of a clock in system, which would give everyone about 10 minutes of swim time a day. There is another problem though. I hate public swimming pools. The last time I used a public swimming pool I was about 10 years unborn. The thing is that when you look like me, and I am no Brad Pit, you don’t really want to use a public swimming pool. Other people are there to have fun and when you walk in with a belly the size of a hippo and weighing just as much. Jumping into a pool poses a problem. It’s called displacement. It works something like this. Hippo jumps into pool and water in pool decides to jump out of pool. Now the people that were having fun are now trying to drown you in what little waters left in the pool. Solution to the problem is for all fatties to stay away from the public pool and get your self a kid’s splash pool. It will be a lot easier to refill after you have bomb dived it and on that note one last thing. I think I have lesbians staying above me and I better go sign for my rules. Maybe she’s got the rag out.

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