Thursday, November 29, 2007
Fighting is Funny
Yesterday I awoke to a frightful row in the unit above me. Now, my building is pretty well sound insulated, and before this couple moved in, we had never heard any sort of noise from that direction. Apparently they're big fans of steel toed boots, however, because now I regularly hear them clomping around like Cyldesdales. (I also hear the loud if seemingly unenthusiastic sex, but that's another story.) But regardless, this particular incident was well beyond their custom.
"You know what, you can just shut the fuck up!" I heard, as I woke from a relatively deep sleep. "Fuck you!"
After ascertaining quickly that there was no intruder in my home and this comment was not in fact intended for me, I shifted from alarm to interest. Suddenly, I live in Melrose Place.
"You're an asshole. You're just such a fucking asshole," came the reply. Impressive rhetoric.
"Whatever. You can just go to hell." Touche.
Then there was assorted stomping around, followed by what sounded like a blender, but probably wasn't one.
"No, don't touch me! Don't you ever fucking touch me."
More stomping. No blender this time.
"Okay, fine, then, just leave. Get the hell out of here. Just get the hell out."
Stomping and a door slam.
Pretty weak on content, I guess, but certainly strong on feeling. No sequels yet, but a fella can always hope.
Yesterday I awoke to a frightful row in the unit above me. Now, my building is pretty well sound insulated, and before this couple moved in, we had never heard any sort of noise from that direction. Apparently they're big fans of steel toed boots, however, because now I regularly hear them clomping around like Cyldesdales. (I also hear the loud if seemingly unenthusiastic sex, but that's another story.) But regardless, this particular incident was well beyond their custom.
"You know what, you can just shut the fuck up!" I heard, as I woke from a relatively deep sleep. "Fuck you!"
After ascertaining quickly that there was no intruder in my home and this comment was not in fact intended for me, I shifted from alarm to interest. Suddenly, I live in Melrose Place.
"You're an asshole. You're just such a fucking asshole," came the reply. Impressive rhetoric.
"Whatever. You can just go to hell." Touche.
Then there was assorted stomping around, followed by what sounded like a blender, but probably wasn't one.
"No, don't touch me! Don't you ever fucking touch me."
More stomping. No blender this time.
"Okay, fine, then, just leave. Get the hell out of here. Just get the hell out."
Stomping and a door slam.
Pretty weak on content, I guess, but certainly strong on feeling. No sequels yet, but a fella can always hope.
