Tag Archives: My neighbours

Reasons for #FeelingStabby

Those who are reading this who also follow me on Twitter will know about my obsessive use of the #FeelingStabby hashtag.  If you DON’T follow me on Twitter you can fix that by clicking here.  If you don’t have twitter, I suggest you throw yourself off the nearest tall building.  Or you could sign up to Twitter here.  I’m really not fussed either way.

I thought for my return to blog-land I would list a few things that make me feel stabby, and a few that have been brought to my attention by my followers.

Mondays:  I hate Mondays with a passion – They are, in actual fact, the arch nemesis of Feeling Stabby Girl, which is my alter ego and the only time I get to wear my underwear on the outside of my clothing.  Unless I’m drunk.  Or it’s a day ending in Y. 

Spiders: I am not sure this requires any further explanation.  I am jump-out-of-a-moving-car afraid of spiders. 

Slow Internet: When my internet is being an arsehole, this makes me feel incredibly stabby.  I know, my internet is probably just trying to be nice and allow me to make a cup of coffee between page loads but FFS I have my limits!!

When Twitter is broken: Incredibly frustrating when all you want to do is bitch about Twitter being broken ON Twitter and you can’t because Twitter is broken.  Like right now when I have asked my followers their reasons for feeling stabby and I CAN’T SEE MY @Reply’s.  Where did I put my knife?

My new neighbours:  Do you remember my very first ever blog post about my neighbours?  You don’t?  Well go read it HERE.  It’s okay. I’ll wait. Are you done now?  It seems no matter where I move I cannot escape Total Eclipse of the Heart.  Sometimes, the music my new neighbours play makes me want to cut myself, then bleed all over their nice white linen that’s hanging from their clothes line.  I’m really NOT over reacting here.  No-one should have to hear the alphabet song twenty times in a row.  It’s worse than chinese water torture.  Don’t ask me how I know that.  It just is.  Also, their linen isn’t white.  I made that part up.  Sorry.

Quitting smoking:  This is where the #FeelingStabby hashtag originated for me.  When I quit smoking I had random homicidal moments, and vented a lot on twitter.  It’s ok.  I started smoking again, for the benefit of society.  You are welcome.

The fact that someone already has a Feeling Stabby blog on wordpress:  I think this speaks for itself.  NOW I have to be more creative and think of a DIFFERENT domain name.  Thanks.  Thanks a lot. 

Losing my potato peeler:  This may not seem like a big deal, but I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE MY POTATO PEELER WENT!  How do you lose a POTATO PEELER?  I think someone stole it just to drive me slowly insane.  Either that, or I accidentally threw it out last time I peeled the potato’s.  I’m going to go with the theft option though.

Forgetting to buy a potato peeler at the supermarket and instead spending $50 on random items:  I think that is self explanatory right? 

Peanuts that are supposed to be salted but really don’t taste all that salty:  The people who make peanuts like this deserve a punch in the undies.  Just saying, there is NOTHING WORSE than opening a pack of salted peanuts and finding a serious lack of salt.  It’s like they don’t even CARE.

People who spell definitely incorrectly:  I know, at times, I completely butcher the English language.  But seriously WTF people?  There is NO ‘A’ IN DIFINITELY.  It’s not rocket surgery aresholes.

Restaurants who do not have eggs benedict on their breakfast menu:  This should be illegal.  Enough said.

Companies/Bands that don’t respond to my letters:  Like Cadbury, McDonalds and Stephen Lynch.  You are both off my Christmas List.  Okay, so I don’t have a Christmas list but if I did you wouldn’t be on it anymore.  That will teach them to mess with ME.

People who write really long lists of stuff that are not at all entertaining: Which is why I am going to stop now.  I could go on with this forever.  You all know it.  I am truly surprised that you are even still reading.

I asked Twitter what puts them in the #FeelingStabby mood, here are a few of the responses:

@DaWhelp: @JellyWrestler having to answer the phone 8+ times cause my flatmates are all out and they haven’t tried thier mobiles. #FeelingStabby 

@Edak81: @JellyWrestler when fixing someones puter which ends up nearly killing mine, that makes be #Stabby

@Stefan MK1: @JellyWrestler This morning I was #FeelingVeryStabby because the coffee shop was closed for Easter.

@Emjaystar: @JellyWrestler drivers that don’t indicate, hypocrites, bad tv reception, aircon that doesn’t work properly, unable to find carpark, off milk

@Fissionxuiptz: @JellyWrestler people who sit in the overtaking lane, not overtaking 😡

@Webboy42: @JellyWrestler Arse holes who try to say wtf I can do and who I can love. #FeelingStabby

In related #FeelingStabby news:  My dear friend @DaWhelp has been slaving away, making an iPhone Application for those of us who feel the need to diffuse our stabby tendencies.

After many hours working under the whip (ask him, he might even show you the scars) he has FINALLY finished it and it will soon be available for purchase – Stay tuned for more information!

In the meantime, what makes YOU feel stabby?


It all fits. I think Al from ‘my life in a blog’ might actually know more than Google.

Tonight has been entertaining – I am not sure what’s going on, but a couple of hours ago about 6 police cars pulled up and “visited” my neighbours.

I *of course* was on-line, and reading this post over at ‘my life in a blog’, where Al claimed to know more than Google.  So I was all like, she’ll know what’s going on, I’ll ask.

You can read Al’s timely and almost pychic explanation here.  Go on now, read it.

I’m impressed, because you know, it really all fits… here, I’ll break it down for you.

AL’S THEORY: Nudist Neighbours staging a protest to encourage free lovin’.

EVIDENCE: Remember when the pictures of naked women were plastered through the neighbourhood?  Then there’s the consistently hanging washing in robes and towel’s (underwear too, but it’s so traumatic I just can’t talk about it).  They are definately pro-nudity.

AL’S THEORY: Pot smokin hippie’s

EVIDENCE: Yes, just YES OK? If the smell wasn’t enough, the crazy lady leaving the house next door screaming “TURN THOSE FUCKING LIGHTS OFF, EVERYONE KNOWS WHAT YOU’RE GROWING UNDER THERE!” definately convinced me. 

AL’S THEORY: Police watching the neighbours.

EVIDENCE: So, I have worked at a few law firms and such, and accordingly know quite a few police officers.  So when the unmarked police car sits out the front of MY HOUSE, watching the neighbours, I generally say hi and offer them a coffee.  Yeah. 

AL’S THEORY: UFO guy across the street.

EVIDENCE: Repetitive playing of ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart‘.  Everyone knows aliens love Bonnie Tyler right?

So, in closing, upon Al’s suggestion, I am off to lock the doors and windows, grab a roll of aluminium foil and the vodka, and stay home tonight.

In the meantime, go visit Al here.

Naked women made me late for work. I blame the neighbours.

A few weeks ago (on a Monday, funnily enough), I woke up with this unnatural ability to be able to hear a fly landing on a dog turd half a mile away.  So, I figured, I had either developed super powers overnight, or I had one HELL of a headache.  And since, you know, I don’t wear my underwear on the outside, it was definitely the latter.

Anyway, I digress.

I took a few *cough* pills and sat in the shower (yeah, I sit in the shower sometimes, don’t judge me). Then, I got dressed for work, put on the darkest sunglasses I could find and zombie walked my way to the car.  It took me a whole five minutes to work out why I couldn’t see out my windscreen, cos hey? what’s a few more black dots right?  Until I realised they weren’t dots they were rectangles, and not black at all but full colour pictures of naked women. 

I am not making this shit up.  I got out the car and pulled two well known nudie mags from under my windshield wipers.  I looked around.

It was like I had woken up in heaven, IF I was actually a horny teenage boy.  Which I am not.  Surrounding me, on poles and fences and cars were centrefolds plastered as far as the eye could see.  Well, as far as my eyes could see, I had a headache remember?  There were lots of them.  Let’s leave it at that.

So, I am not really sure exactly what happened in my street the night before, but I am pretty sure that it has something to do with my neighbours.  You know, anyone who plays ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ 7 times in a row is totally headed for a breakdown of some kind.  Distributing porn mags is a sign of a breakdown right?

When I got to work, and told them naked women made me late, at first they didn’t believe me.  But apparently the magazines were enough to persuade them.  Or bribe them….


There is only SO MANY times I can unwillingly listen to ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ before I feel like killing my neighbours

Honestly, it’s been 7 times today so far.  I am starting to hate Bonnie Tyler and all that she stands for.

(Every now and then I get a little bit BLAH BLAH BLAH)

*screaming out the window at the neighbours*  “See!!  See what you are turning me into” 

It’s. Really. Fucking. Loud. 

(Turn around…. bright eyes….)

Even if I DIDN’T have a headache.  Even if I HAD slept properly, for just one night, in the last 3 months.  Even if my neighbours were saints who saved peoples lives, and rescued puppies in their spare time.  I would STILL want to kill them right now for playing this song over and over and over and over…

(every now and then I fall apart….)

So, I hear you say – go and tell them to FUCK OFF!  But, you see, I have a little problem.  My neighbours are from Hell.  No, really, I asked – that’s what they told me.  Right after they molested orphans and bit the heads off several really cute kittens.

(Turn around, Bright eyes….)

Okay, so maybe I am exaggerating just a smidge, but they are a little rough, and I am a bit scaredy cat.  Maybe I will write them a strongly worded letter.  In blood.  Thankfully I now have some coming out of my ears.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I really need to go find some cotton wool…

(every now and then I fall apart…)