Smashing doors, just another Friday night in Moscow...

So there I was, Friday night in the apartment I had just moved into with my girlfriend (she’s lived here for years but her parents moved out fairly recently), everything had been going well and I even had time to get my own wireless internet set up.
The best part was, I got the PS3 hooked up to wireless internet too which I expected to be a nightmare but which actually turned out to be easy (after living a while in Russia you don’t always expect things to go smoothly).
Here I should mention that I’m somewhat an aggressive gamer at times but normally it’s just loud explosive tourette-esque swearing.

Unfortunately, this time is was not nothing...

I had been playing Call of Duty: World at War online for a while and was close to victory with about a minute left and genuinely reviling in the experience points I would receive (something only the most perverse of gamers can understand) when my wireless internet connected died.
The connection only went down for about thirty seconds but it was too late – I had been disconnected from the server.
The rage bubbled inside me like a geeky volcano, I got up and the first thing I did, to my girlfriend’s dismay, was punch a perfect fist-sized hole in our bedroom door.
Because of the quality of the wood I was lucky it was just a hole and not the whole middle section (although there were cracks on the other side).

The problem with this is that my girlfriend’s parents were coming over the next day to remove some stuff from the flat. Her dad is a very serious guy and I could just image his face if he saw that hole, not only that they would both think that I was some raging psycho and probably not the best candidate for son in law 2009.

All night I was dreaming about her dad finding that hole and me having to explain my actions. Seriously, I was dreaming about this shit.
Anyway, during this frantic Friday dream session I had an idea: I would swap the bedroom door with a door from the spare bedroom and the hole would then be facing the fall and be out of sight, it would literally be the perfect crime.

So cut to 9.30 Saturday morning to me in my underpants, with a drill, taking the doors of their hinges. I was paranoid her parents would rock up any minute and discover this little scene but they didn’t.
The doors came off with no problem but swapping them over proved impossible because they opened out in different directions - my perfect plan had been shat on by the laws of physics and there was nothing I could do about it.


So back on go the doors with a lot more hassle then they went on with. I had to get my girlfriend to help me as it was very fiddly (as you can imagine) and the stress factor was growing by the minute. So now we were back to square one and the only thing I could think of for the mean time was to cover the rage hole I had created with one of my communist posters. After this the next task was to cover my cut-up hand up with makeup as they would ask questions if they saw it. Now I’m in the bathroom, still in my pants, getting makeup put on my hand to avert suspicion, an excellent start to the weekend...

When her parents arrived, the babushka and little sister was with them too and all I could think was dear god please don’t discover that hole, it would literally be the worst time possible for the whole family would bear witness to my act of online videogame rage. I literally felt sick as they flew in and out of the room and what was worse, her little sister poked the poster too. She actually poked it but luckily not where the hole was.
They left and everything was fine. Her mum is actually clearing some more stuff now as I write this post and I’m keeping my hand hidden and a cautions eye on the bedroom door. For the mean time I’m safe but I’ll have to do something about it at some point.

I’ll need to call a carpenter I guess which I’m sure will no less pleasurable than a tobacco enema, but until then that poster’s not moving an inch.

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