Dear JAPS and Laundrydoers:
Dear JAPS that have ALWAYS inhabited the condo next to mine, from the Jappy ZBT Guys, to the Jappy Roslyn Bitches:
FYI - The window to my bedroom, which is approximately three feet from the location where you are oddly compelled to sit and rasp into your cellphones as loudly as you can about your personal problems from your erectile dysfunction with the girl across the hall, to this evening's fight about how you spent $400.00 on a plane ticket and he's being a "fuckin' asshole"...I don't know whether you know, but that window is single-pane glass.
You might as well be pouring out your Audi and Beamer Convertible-driving 20-year-old hearts in my bedroom. Come on in. Have a glezeltei. You want to cry about something? Why not do it on your balcony where I'll be able to hear it? Want to fight about something? No more private place than a balcony facing an interior pool and courtyard. There, only about a hundred sets of ears will be privy to your small and boring personal problems.
Shut the fuck up. I'm calling Management tomorrow. Eleven o'Clock on a Wednesday night is NOT the time to give your neighbor a show. But then again, it's never a good time to give your neighbor a show. Have some fucking decorum. Have some fucking class. Go into your fucking room, turn on a fan, and have your fight there. I'm so, so, so exhausted by hearing you use the word, "Whatever," to get yourself out of rationalizing a thought.
Go inside. Fight inside like civilized people. Or at least make your fights worth listening to. Oh good. Now you're crying. That's gooooood. Cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Because you have to wake up at 8:00 tomorrow morning to go see him... Now it's getting interesting. Feel free to continue fighting...
Dear Person Below Me whose Laundry ALWAYS smells like Chicken Soup:
You're a dirty bitch. Why does your house always smell like boiled poultry? And why does your dryer dry DIRECTLY into mine?
I hate that. And I hate that you do laundry EVERY DAY and make my house smell like Chicken Soup. My house smells neutral. It doesn't really HAVE a smell. Except maybe paint. Or that poundcake I made. Or maybe the Chili I made. Regardless --
STOP MAKING MY HOUSE AND CLOTHING THAT I'VE LEFT IN THE DRYER SMELL LIKE SOUP!
Thank you.
posted by SuperBee at 8:11 PM
8 Comments:
I had a neighbor once who listened almost exclusively to bagpipe music. On her Bose tower speakers.
8:45 AM
What. A. Nerd.
Unless she was Irish or Scottish. But even still. She'd have to have been born and raised there, and be extremely homesick for her rolling hills and organs in a bag with oatmeal. Otherwise, that's inexcuseable. And very, very peculiar.
8:54 AM
She was straight up American Mutt. My brother loaned me his Bang and Olufson speakers for a time, and I helped her cultivate an appreciation for Orff and Holst, through the living room wall. One should never try to be nerdier than the daughter of 2 professors.
10:32 AM
You know what I hate though? I hate that my euro-trash roommate and her euro-trash boyfriend talk to each other, not loud, not soft, but at that indistinguishable audibility that just drives you crazy...and a lot of times it's in spanish. You know, because she's Polish, so it makes sense.
I cannot wait to move out in December.
10:34 AM
Ugh. Pollocks. Disgusting. I hate the Poles. They're a stupid, dirty people. :)
And RT - I know, it's hard to out-nerd academics' children. I had to forget everything I was interested in as a child to become socially acceptable.
I also hate soft-talkers. There's this girl at work that whispers everything, and I've taken to yelling, "WHAT?! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!" whenever she goes into her faux demure whisper. Because, she's a raging gutterslut, and I'll have none of her chicanery.
11:27 AM
Vidas - where the hell have you dissappeared to? No, "Wah, I'm busy." That was your ex-job and during-the-bar complaint.
Come up with a new one. ;)
4:23 PM
some of us talk softly because we're afraid you might hear us if we don't.
4:45 PM
I know, I know. We're going to trial on Monday in this kinda big wrongful death case. In otherwords, Wah. I'm busy.
Seriously though, I've researched and written the following in the past two weeks:
One (1) MSJ - 36 pages. (Denied, because they don't teach you in law school that MSJ's NEVER get granted unless you've blown the SOL or some procedural bullshit like that.)
14 Motions in Limine re: various. All are pending.
THREE (3!) Responses to OC's stupid Motion to exclude "contributory negligence as a defense", because he thinks if he keeps filing supplemental briefs on the subject, that Pennsylvania will somehow stop following PA law and adopt some archaic tort law from Connecticut.
And a large number of points for charge, aka jury instructions. Oh, 30 or so.
Two sets of interrogatories, two requests for production and a partridge in a pear tree.
So maybe you can understand why the first thing I don't feel like doing is sitting down at the ol' computer and writing a little ditty about the homeless guy I saw wearing a pair of Uggs. Which I'll probably end up writing about, because in hindsight, that's pretty awesome.
Anyway, I promise I'll post this weekend.
7:33 PM
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