Days till Christmas: 26
Today I saw the jauntiest bow tie; it was almost neon-bright, boasting a plethora of retina-burning colors that just screamed for attention. And not only that, but it was easily three times the size of a normal bow tie. Sometimes I swear that life just smiles down on me.
Other times, however, life enjoys seeing just how far it can push me until I snap and end up drooling and screaming in a padded room in an asylum somewhere in the Berkshires. Point in Case: Upstairs Neighbor.
Dear Upstairs Neighbor,
I get it. Your woman is a cheatin', stealin' bitch and it's your duty to put her in her place. I've raised quite a few pimp sticks to hos in my day, so I understand that you just gotta keep them in line sometimes. Instill the fear of God and all that. But could you please refrain from doing so after 1am? I'm all for freedom of domestic violence, but a little consideration goes a long way. Especially if you get particularly riled up during a beating, and decide that the logical follow-up to such physical exertion is a healthy, exciting, ear-splitting romp in the sack. Usually my girls were too weak and bloodied to have a go, but hey, to each their own.
Just please - not after 1am. It somewhat irks me to hear you two throwing furniture at each other (and feeling the shocks of it as it slams against the floor) and screaming obscenities, and then going at it like rabid rabbits moments later. Oh, and word of advice: tighten your bed frame. Not only does it squeak enough to make me dream about giant killer sex-crazed rabbits before I wake up and curse at the ceiling, I'm rather convinced that some day the bed will give out, and it will - along with the two of you - come crashing down on top of me and squash me to death, and that is not my desired course of action for entering the after life.
Much thanks,
Chelsea
Luckily, the deceptively cute and meek female neighbor to my right has started blaring what I can only assume are pornos at all hours of the night (otherwise, she has a hell of a boyfriend, with a delightfully deep baritone voice - who I can only assume is a milkman and electrician by day, depending on his mood) so at least something drowns out the violence. Although I must admit, when the pornos and the upstairs makeup sex is going on, it sort of blends into one nice, soothing harmony of filthy begging and pleadings.
Your Survival Technique of the Day
How to Survive Very Loud, Very Sex-Crazed Neighbors
Step 1: Purchase a set of earplugs. Preferably the squishy, fits-to-your-ear-cavities kind, so that you don't feel like you've jammed an ear of corn into your ear.
Step 2: Invest in a set of heavy, down-filled pillows. These are great for blocking out low to medium noises (and the expensive ones can even block out loud noises) and they give the feeling of sleeping in a cocoon of sorts. Simply press the pillow over your ear, and attempt sleep.
Step 3: Take a page out of the Old Sitcom Book and bang on the ceiling with a broom. Loudly. Stop only when plaster begins to fall and comically shower you in white soot.
Step 4: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Move your laptop out into the hallway, and Google search for 2Girls1Cup. Crank the volume up all the way, then dash back into your apartment. Wait for the sounds to lure your neighbors out of their apartments, and then sit back and enjoy the silence after they all drop dead from witnessing the horrors on screen.
WARNING: Do not, under any circumstance, allow yourself to watch even a moment of 2Girls1Cup. There's a reason that it's a last resort tactic. There are no known survivors of that web video. True story.
Today I saw the jauntiest bow tie; it was almost neon-bright, boasting a plethora of retina-burning colors that just screamed for attention. And not only that, but it was easily three times the size of a normal bow tie. Sometimes I swear that life just smiles down on me.
Other times, however, life enjoys seeing just how far it can push me until I snap and end up drooling and screaming in a padded room in an asylum somewhere in the Berkshires. Point in Case: Upstairs Neighbor.
Dear Upstairs Neighbor,
I get it. Your woman is a cheatin', stealin' bitch and it's your duty to put her in her place. I've raised quite a few pimp sticks to hos in my day, so I understand that you just gotta keep them in line sometimes. Instill the fear of God and all that. But could you please refrain from doing so after 1am? I'm all for freedom of domestic violence, but a little consideration goes a long way. Especially if you get particularly riled up during a beating, and decide that the logical follow-up to such physical exertion is a healthy, exciting, ear-splitting romp in the sack. Usually my girls were too weak and bloodied to have a go, but hey, to each their own.
Just please - not after 1am. It somewhat irks me to hear you two throwing furniture at each other (and feeling the shocks of it as it slams against the floor) and screaming obscenities, and then going at it like rabid rabbits moments later. Oh, and word of advice: tighten your bed frame. Not only does it squeak enough to make me dream about giant killer sex-crazed rabbits before I wake up and curse at the ceiling, I'm rather convinced that some day the bed will give out, and it will - along with the two of you - come crashing down on top of me and squash me to death, and that is not my desired course of action for entering the after life.
Much thanks,
Chelsea
Luckily, the deceptively cute and meek female neighbor to my right has started blaring what I can only assume are pornos at all hours of the night (otherwise, she has a hell of a boyfriend, with a delightfully deep baritone voice - who I can only assume is a milkman and electrician by day, depending on his mood) so at least something drowns out the violence. Although I must admit, when the pornos and the upstairs makeup sex is going on, it sort of blends into one nice, soothing harmony of filthy begging and pleadings.
Your Survival Technique of the Day
How to Survive Very Loud, Very Sex-Crazed Neighbors
Step 1: Purchase a set of earplugs. Preferably the squishy, fits-to-your-ear-cavities kind, so that you don't feel like you've jammed an ear of corn into your ear.
Step 2: Invest in a set of heavy, down-filled pillows. These are great for blocking out low to medium noises (and the expensive ones can even block out loud noises) and they give the feeling of sleeping in a cocoon of sorts. Simply press the pillow over your ear, and attempt sleep.
Step 3: Take a page out of the Old Sitcom Book and bang on the ceiling with a broom. Loudly. Stop only when plaster begins to fall and comically shower you in white soot.
Step 4: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Move your laptop out into the hallway, and Google search for 2Girls1Cup. Crank the volume up all the way, then dash back into your apartment. Wait for the sounds to lure your neighbors out of their apartments, and then sit back and enjoy the silence after they all drop dead from witnessing the horrors on screen.
WARNING: Do not, under any circumstance, allow yourself to watch even a moment of 2Girls1Cup. There's a reason that it's a last resort tactic. There are no known survivors of that web video. True story.
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