NetNews Usenet Archive 1992 #19/NN_1992_19.iso/spool/talk/bizarre/28664

Text File | 1992-09-02 | 3.4 KB | 72 lines

Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Path: sparky!uunet!decwrl!sgi!wdl1!bard
From: [e-mail] (J H Woodyatt)
Subject: My neighbor needs help
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Sender: [e-mail]
Reply-To: [e-mail]
Organization: Abiogenesis 4 Less
Date: Thu, 3 Sep 1992 06:27:50 GMT
Lines: 60

I had a harrowing day today, one of those days when every single event
produces frustration and they happen one right after another.  You
know the kind -- ``no, [you fucking loser,] this can't wait until M.
comes back from vacation.  i need this cable run, now.  either i get
permission to run it, or i run it myself without permission.
[comprende?]''

Anyway, I took Xtal home (we carpool since we both work within walking
distance of one another), and what do I have on my answering machine?
Just the thing to top off a day of random mundane bullshit at the
office:  not one, but *TWO* ranting messages from my downstairs
neighbor, who claims to be on the verge of stark raving lunacy because
we keep waking her up every morning before 0800 with, get this, our...

    ``...talking, laughing and having lives.''

The nextdoor neighbor goes to bed at 2200, and will push the big red
button if I so much as sneeze too loudly when she's trying to get to
sleep, but she's not the problem child.  The downstairs neighbor (and
I feel for her too -- I really do -- she's a divorcee with the
survival skills of a three week old kitten, the mind of a snail
darter, and absolutely no social life whatsoever) works 2nd shift, so
she doesn't even get home until after 0000.

It's gotten so that, in order to avoid embarassing sessions with my
property management company, I have to leave all the doors and
cupboards open all the time because the latches on them sound like
cannons to the neighbor, I can't play my acoustic guitar -- not even
finger picking -- because my Sigma sounds like I borrowed The Who's
amplifiers, I can't use the microwave because the timer bell wakes up
the whole fucking neighborhood like a civil defense warning, and I
even have to tiptoe around my own damn home, because at 225 lbs, I'm
GIGANTOR and my steps make the floor into a giant drumhead that
rattles my neighbor's teeth.  Don't ask about my sex life.

What the fuck is going to happen if and when I ever have friends over?
``Something's gotta be done about the people in three.  Last night it
sounded like they had the entire city of San Francisco in their
apartment.  They've really gotten out of hand.''

So, this is what I need:  I figger the only non-violent way outa this
situation is to set my downstairs neighbor up with a boyfriend (or a
girlfriend -- a trilobite-friend, anything) of some kind. I just want
some peace.  The way I see it, listening to my downstairs neighbor
making wild boar noises when I'm trying to sleep, is actually easier
for me to deal with than having to put up with her whinging for 10
whole fucking minutes every damn night of the week into my answering
machine.  I can only take so much of her before I have to drop a
bridge on her or something.

Please.  Someone come and fuck my neighbor.  On a regular basis.  I
might even be able to pay you.  Please.  Please please please.

--
J H Woodyatt (a.k.a. Dr. Strychnine)
Space Systems/Loral

"there's a lot going on that you miss. nothing soft about THESE
machines. mean, timeless, mean, purposeful, crammed with meaning."
                                                  -- Andrew Palfreyman