On my way up the stairs after work tonight, intensely trying to avoid Trixie smoking downstairs, I hear this smoke ravaged, gravely voice say "hi" and "let me ask you something, can you hear my music up there?"
Rather than responding with "what the fuck to you think? Oxnard can hear your music!" like I wanted to, I grunted "yeah, sometimes."
"If it gets too loud, just bang on the floor a few times"
"Ok."
It hasn't been an issue yet tonight, but I think she may be in for a rude awakening when I do start the floor banging. I wonder if her offer applies to her karaoke singing or her yelling at her boyfriends or her loud, nasty sex or her disgusting coughing and snoring.
Rather than responding with "what the fuck to you think? Oxnard can hear your music!" like I wanted to, I grunted "yeah, sometimes."
"If it gets too loud, just bang on the floor a few times"
"Ok."
It hasn't been an issue yet tonight, but I think she may be in for a rude awakening when I do start the floor banging. I wonder if her offer applies to her karaoke singing or her yelling at her boyfriends or her loud, nasty sex or her disgusting coughing and snoring.
3 comments:
OMG! I guess you'll be doing a lotta floor banging!!!
Get some big ass heavy shoes!
Even if it's GOOD music, nobody wants to hear it cranked so high that it shakes the freaking walls. Stomp away, my friend. Stomp away.
I've got a friend that has neighbors like that upstairs. He bought tennis balls and walks through the apartment throwing them at the ceiling.
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