Hello all. I’m sorry I’ve been completely MIA lately ealing with finals and a serious case fo writer’s block.
I would have still had writer’s block if I were not rudely awakened from my nap time slumber just now if it were not for some inconsiderate soul slamming a door and being generally loud-as-fuck.
So today I write an open letter to our friends (foes) that live one thin floor below us.
Do you possess a brain? If so, did your parents neglect to baby-proof their home before having you? I thought so.
Why else would you be so rude, inconsiderate and loud-as-fuck? I am baffled as well.
What normal human being has raging parties on Tuesday nights, allows their headboard to slam against the wall they share with an innocent other person, and SLAMS THEIR PORCH DOOR MAKING OTHER PEOPLE’S ROOMS SHAKE????
I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, silly lax bros, but you do indeed have large muscles and deep voices. You’re so masculine. When you slam a door or proclaim your excitement for being “so done” with what I can only assume are classes (I’m not sure you attend them though), it’s a lot more loud than when I do those same things.
I actually do not care about how you “fucked that slam” last night or that you failed English. I find it hilarious that you think I do, though.
Your lifestyle choices will quickly catch up to you when you graduate your sub-par university and realize that no real lacrosse team wants to draft (is that right?) binge drinking muscle heads that don’t know English!
I’ve heard a good many of your conversations between each other and between you and women (I use that term loosely) and 99% of them have been completely incoherent. Saying “bro,” “like,” “motherfucker,” and “dude” every other syllable does not foster positive communication patterns.
Please move out.
I hope you’ve enjoyed my letter to my incoherent, idiotic neighbors. Since you’ve been so good to me, I’ll leave you with this:
One of them is violently vomiting on the porch that happens to be directly under my porch and outside my bedroom window. I take solace in the fact that I am thankfully above, not below, the bile. Please don’t slam the door once you’re done ejecting your stomach fluid.
Dear readers: How do you handle out-of-control neighbors? I’d love your help on this one.