Tuesday, 1 May 2007

Lamp to the Slaughter

I was having lunch at a Chinese buffet (for some reason everyone around here loves to do that, and you know me, always doing what everybody else does so people will think I'm cool), when I got a call from an electrician. He was sent by the letting agent to install my new lamp.
You see, the living room ceiling light that was there when I moved in, wasn't going to win any beauty contests, but it did its job and blended in well enough with its surroundings. I had already discovered the box in my hallway containing the new one, but I didn't really feel like putting it up, because 1: My ceiling is quite high and I don't have a high enough step ladder, 2: It's very, very ugly.
But alas, it's technically the letting agent's appartment, not mine, so they installed it. I have to say though, now that it's actually hanging from my ceiling, I can see just how ugly this thing really is. The entire room is light; wood coloured floor, magnolia coloured walls and ceiling. The new lamp is dark grey, almost black. It hangs from a chain and is shaped like a chandelier, with five lightbulbs.
Then I turned it on. Wow! That's one bright light! With the flick of a switch, my once cosy living room changed into an O.R.! This light is so bright, I'd rather stare directly at the sun for half an hour than turn it on. This light is so bright, it can be used to send morse signals to spaceshuttles. This light is so bright, you could send it off to college. At least the chain is short and the ceiling is high.
This other time I was hanging out, watching a movie (I finally saw my first Hitchcock film, North by Northwest! Yay!) when I heard two loud beeps. I had no idea where they came from, so I came to the only logical conclusion: digital ghosts! Later I found out it was the entryphone. It beeped again and when I picked up this voice was asking for someone whom, as far as I knew, didn't live in my appartment. Turns out he had pressed the wrong doorbell. In stead of the button underneath the appartment number he was trying to reach, he pressed the one above it. Or the other way around, it's confusing anyway. I sure hope this won't happen too often.

Worst. Post. Ever.

End of days... is a film so bad, it's funny.

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