Monday, December 21, 2015

HAVING IT IN WRITING

One of the clickbait websites shows numerous "passive aggressive" notes from one neighbor to another neighbor. Obviously, these aren't love notes, or just friendly polite reminders of minor matters. It is serious!
These are breaches against a presumed normalcy.
No mere observations or updates.

What they need to get off their chests is dog poop and loud sex.


DOG POOP AND LOUD SEX!

There are correct places for both of those things, albeit not, usually, an overlap of space where either is appropriate.

I do not know where either of those places are. The apartment building in which I reside is a pet-free zone (although a nice silent lizard on an electric rock would probably be okay), and I cannot remember the last time I heard loud sex. Maybe there has never been any loud sex in this building, to the best of my knowledge. Which must obviously mean that they waited, conspiratorily, till I was out of the house to do it. Whoever done it.

Or maybe they're hoping that I will be the first?

If so, they may be waiting a mighty long time.

I've always thought that there was something show-offy about over-the-top ecstatic screaming, even if it's just a shopping spree or a damned football game. Enjoyment or appreciation, whether sexual, shopping related, or connected with large sweaty muscular men in shiny spandex pants, is better done discreetly.


Random neighbors having loud sex is remarkably like dog poop.
One rather wishes one were not in the middle of it.
Enjoy yourself, please, but not here.



NEAT-O BUSINESS IDEA, UP FOR GRABS: build an apartment complex with sound-proofed rooms, with padding everywhere, and concrete floors that get hosed down on an hourly basis. Go ahead; bring your coarse brutish lover-boy and your damned dog, and be a free spirit.

Oh, and no windows either; no one wants to see that shit.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

No comments:

Search This Blog

MAY GET DIZZY, DON'T GET PREGNANT

After picking up my refills I mentally calculated how often I've been to that pharmacy. More times than my years of age. Which is not su...