Pearl, with her post today, reminded me to tell this story...
But before I begin this story, let me just say that I am really hungover today. If you will look at previous posts and Tweets, you will know that it has been WEEKS since I have been hungover, on a week day of course, and I sure haven't missed them.
Back to the story...
Our upstairs fucking inconsiderate college kid mommy and daddy paying rent loud ass pieces of shit from the bottom of my shoe neighbors are young. Everyone that lives there, and I say everyone, because I am still not quite sure who actually lives there, it is anywhere between 4-6 people...so everyone that lives there is 1) horribly clumsy 2) enjoys moving furniture daily 3) uses the hallway as a bowling ally and 4) enjoys all types of music. Loudly.
Last year we got together with are AWESOME landlords and explained that though HUGE music fans, I would be forced into slaughtering their upstairs tenants if something was not done about the musical instruments. I understood the agreement between landlord and upstairs tenants to say absolutely NO musical instruments. The upstairs tenants took it to say no ELECTRICAL instruments, so it is completely fine to play the acoustic guitar at 3:00 in the morning cause surely that isn't loud.
We have let them know it is.
We had seven (7!!!!) weeks of bliss from the week before Thanksgiving until last Sunday. They all left to be loud at their family's abodes and we enjoyed living in a home where I could sleep, peacefully, at any moment during the day or night!
THEN. SUNDAY. They returned. And returned they did. It was no mystery when they got home. The herd stomped upstairs, dog started barking and then the mother fucking assfucks started playing the god damn...wait for it...bongos. BONGOS!!!!!!!!!!!
Naturally the first visual I got was that they were all doing the Matthew Maconahay, doing a little puff puff give and all sitting around naked.
We let this go on for about ten minutes, in the hopes that they would SURELY realize it was 11:45 at night. On a WORK NIGHT. We give those college kids ENTIRELY too much credit.
I was wearing my typical mismatched pajama get-up, I had on a pink top that had cherry blossoms on it, looks terrible, most comfortable PJ's EVER!
My bottoms were some kind of flannel pants
And on my feet were flip flops...much like that dude above.
My hair was held back with an elastic hair band. I tried to provide as many visuals as possible, but the point was I looked a hot mess.
I walked outside, rang their doorbell, here comes some redheaded dude that I recognize from the house, but still, again, not sure if he lives there. He opens the door and he gives me a once over and I lean forward, stare him directly in the eye and say, "SERIOUSLY?"
"Ummm, sorry, we will put it up."
"NO. DUDE. SERIOUSLY! Do you see these? (I wave my hand over my body) These are pajamas. I SLEEP in them. I would like to USE them to SLEEP in. RIGHT NOW. It is fucking MIDNIGHT!"
How dense do you have to be?
We have knocked on their door countless times asking them to shut up. We have banged on the ceiling with brooms. We have called the cops on them AT LEAST 5 times. We have complained to the landlords. Nothing works. I sure do miss back in the day when I owned my own house. Those were blissful times.
