I’ve come to accept that there are things in life I can’t control:
- Death
- People actin’ a fool towards me
- Weather
- MTV playing reruns of the MTV Movie Awards for 6 straight months after it airs
- My bladder
While driving today, I came up with a great concept for today’s blog. I was going to talk about my family, love, friendship and all that other crap you’re supposed to be thankful for around the holidays. I was going to win awards with this post. The Nobel Prize committee might as well have been polishing my medal (they give medals, right?)
I got all cozy in bed, fired up the laptop, and was ready to type up my masterpiece. Then I heard it. The squeaking. The moaning. The banging on the wall. Crazy jungle sex from my neighbor upstairs.
My neighbor’s “Kama Sutra”
(Credit: IMDB)
Look, sex is a normal part of life. I think the world would be a much better place is people got laid more often. I’m not a prude, and I’m genuinely happy for people who get a little slap and tickle on a regular basis. My issue isn’t with sex itself.
My issue is with their sex.
As some background, they are not a couple. I thank my lucky stars that I don’t have to listen to that hot mess on a regular basis. He’s a wannabe player in his late 20’s, and she’s a cougar who looks like she snorted one too many lines of coke at Studio 54. They just get together on occasion and do it like they do on the Discovery Channel.
He calls her up, she comes over, and they hang out in his room for awhile. I can hear them mumbling and laughing for a good hour before they start getting their freak on. I imagine during this time they’re drinking Bud Light (or something equally offensive) and listening to the smooth sounds of Ginuwine.
Then they move into the Bow Chicka Wow phase of the night. Fine, ruin your mattress. Put things in questionable places. Give yourself a yeast infection by letting him pour chocolate syrup on your Lady Bird Johnson.
DO NOT do these things:
- Scream “you smell better than a bucket of KFC” unless you’re talking to an In-N-Out burger
- Shout “put your back into it” unless you’re talking to someone helping you lift a couch up seven flights of stairs
- Call someone “daddy” unless you’re five and the person you’re talking to is actually your father
- Keep saying “oooh oooh oooh” over and over again unless you’re practicing to be an extra in a “Planet of the Apes” reboot
- Take a phone call in the middle of your sexy time
They’ve finally stopped doing the vertical tango, but now it’s too late. No flowery post about my hippie love for all the wonderful things in my life. All you’re left with is this post, and all I’m left with is the kind of memory that will haunt my dreams for years to come.
Today’s challenge is to tell me about a craptastic neighbor you’ve had. Anyone who has ever lived in an apartment (or “flat” for you fancy European bastards) has had one. I want to hear it all.
You know who probably doesn’t suck as a neighbor? Today’s winner! Congrats to Saradraws! E-mail me at Sipsofjenandtonic.com, yo.
Now it’s time for me to get some sleep…if I can.
Sips of Jen and Tonic 
While normally I put up with the usual loud bass thumping through my ceiling, my worst neighbors were probably the ones who never slept, screamed at each other for at least three hours straight everyday, and had a very fussy baby. Poor kid, it wasn’t his fault he cried (and my numbers are literal, not an exaggeration) 18 hours a day, or that when he did try to sleep his mother would decide to start an argument, or vacuum her two bedroom apartment for (again, literal) two whole hours, before overturning what sounded like entire pieces of furniture for no apparent reason at all. Of course the dad had to unwind, and what better way than to play the guitar with the amp turned all the way to 11 at 3AM? Oh, we got to hear them try to make baby #2 as well.
I didn’t sleep for a year. I am ecstatic that they are gone. I actually celebrate when rowdy, drug-using, partying college students move in a above me with giant stereos and video game systems.
Sorry your neighbors enjoy/don’t mind an audience to their passion, but hey, at least it makes a great blog post.
I had a similar upstairs neighbor. Once, my sister and I (we shared a room) awoke to what we thought was an earthquake. After about 2.5 seconds we heard screams and moans and realized that our upstairs neighbor was having such aggressive sex that it was SHAKING THE WALLS OF OUR ROOM. How is that even possible? We pounded on the ceiling a few times and the noises shut the heck up, as well as the shaking. This happened a few other times, but none so violent as the Earthquake-Sex Incident.
When my parents got a condo, for about a year, every time we came in it smelled like smoke. We assumed the smell was left over from the previous owners (as we had all their old furniture), and that we weren’t airing it out enough.
Turned out the lady below us was a massive chain smoker. For years we would hold our breath before entering the room, run across to the opposite doors and throw them open!
Luckily I’ve never had to listen to banging neighbors though. Especially cause I think I’d blush and get embarrassed/be all grumpy if I wasn’t getting any at that time… 😉
I love that you guys had a plan of action. The family that avoids second hand smoke together, stays together.
True story! I’ve always wished second hand smoke was bubbles like in that one commercial. Then the world would be more fun 🙂
Oh, Jen..sorry you have such, uh…loud neighbors!! I had neighbors that used to fight all the time and yell at their kids. That wasn’t fun. I felt so bad for the kids. I think I’d prefer the vertical tango noise to that.
I agree, that’s worse. All of the tension and yelling is just depressing. At least mine ends after an hour, and only happens every couple of weeks.
ahhh, I need to catch up on all the other Christmas posts! But I’m gonna unofficially call Day 10 “hangin’ n’ bangin'”
You’re naming all of my posts from now on.
In exchange for you tagging all of mine
Dude, Jen, I laughed all the way through this. Classic!
Notable line: “I imagine during this time they’re drinking Bud Light (or something equally offensive) and listening to the smooth sounds of Ginuwine.”
My neighbor is a tool. He has a work allergy, I think, because he doesn’t do a whole lot of it. Yet, despite his implied lack of cash flow, he somehow manages to afford every single possible home service (lawn comes on my day off at 8am like clockwork), and every single motor-toy ever invented. But It’s the car that really bothers me…
…up and down the street ALL DAY LONG during the Summer. RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA RRRAAAAA RRRAAAAAAAAA REEEEEEEEEEEK
He’s like a hyperactive kid. I’m gonna put sugar in his gas tank one night. Or maybe take his wheels off and melt them to his fucking roof.
Merry KwanChristmasica
Why do neighbors always conveniently schedule things when it’s our day off, or the only day we get to sleep in? A neighbor I had held a yodeling class (seriously) in her apartment on Sundays at 10. It was the only day I got to sleep in, and I’d have to listen to a bunch of fucking lunatics reenact a Ricola commercial.
You’re pulling my leg, right?
I wish I was.