Masturbation isn´t funny

...unless it´s someone else who is doing it.

I rent a room out of a flat shared by two brasilian ladies and their nephew, Jefferson. Jefferson is 26 years old, lays wood for a living, and his favorite activity is listening to really bad music. He likes bad music of all kinds--techno, amateur rap remixes, Britney Spears, and what seems to be Brazilian Mariachi music. He enjoys listing to bad music so much, that he built giant speakers into the kitchen, so that the rest of the house could listen to his bad music and enjoy it with him. At first I found this intensely annoying, but after a while, I somehow developed a taste for it, kind of like how Australians like Vegemite. Now I know most of his songs by heart, so I will croon them as I go by his door, or dance to his shitty techno while cooking.

It was during one of my late-night cooking escapades that the awkardness began. I have a habit of staying up late and cooking when any normal sane person would be asleep. This particular night I decided to make fried potatoes with garlic, not only because they are delicious but also because it was pretty much the only thing I had in the house. As usual a little fiesta was going on vis-a-vis the inexorable speaker music: A bad portugese singer did his best to perform a sonata over a cacophpny of trumpets and accordions.

I had just finished cutting the potatoes when the music stopped. No sooner did I throw them into the frying pan than a new type of music started--a type much less innocent than the mariachi that preceded it. Yes, it was porn music.

It didn´t stop with the music. It sounded someone had thrown a can of nerve gas in a room filled with cheerleaders. This wasn´t just a porn--it was an orgy. No words can describe the feeling of being forced against your will to listen to what another guy masturbates to while doing something totally mundane. It was absolutely surreal.

I wasn´t quite sure what to do. Apparently he had forgotten to disconnect his speakers before he started going to town on himself. I couldn´t knock on his door and kindly explain his error; you just don´t bust a guy while he´s stretching his taffy. Besides, that would be waaay too awkward--I probably wouldn´t be able to look at him again. And I didn´t know how to disconnect the speakers, either.

So there I stood, frying potatoes, trying to decide when to add the garlic, while the sounds of groups of people whaling on each other wafted through the kitchen and out the open window.

It seemed to be an American porn, since occasionally you would hear some guy whisper, "Oh, yeah," but then again, may´be guys around the world say that while making babies. In either case, it was clearly part of a porn star´s bag o´tricks, since every few minutes SOMEONE would say it. The guys must have known what they were doing, because the girls didn´t sound like they were faking it. But then again, pornstars probably have a lot of practive making that shit sound realistic.

Apparently Jeffy-boy has quite a bit of stamina: I finished frying the potatoes, went back to my room, ate them, and when I went back in to clean my plate the porno was still going. Oh well, he´ll need that right-arm strength next time he has to lay down wood. No, that pun was not intended.