Sex bomb
See also: cialis |
I think I've killed the sex life of two people I've never met.
Sometime in the last two or three months, the girl in the apartment below us got a boyfriend. A boyfriend who comes over every night and apparently pounds her like a jackhammer on speed until 4:15 AM. This is not an exaggeration -- every night. From about 2 AM to 4 AM. I know, because I hear every second of it.
It sounds like she is sticking her head out the window, shrieking wild sex yodels into the night. Possibly through a megaphone. Nothing could drown out the monkey sex... not earplugs, not fans, not pillows, not the fantasies running through my head of me busting through their door, snatching the megaphone out of her hand and beating both of them over the head with it.
To make matters worse, Mr. and Ms. Humpy McFeckface prefer to get it on weeknights, not weekends. I think they don't have jobs. Or maybe they work in a bar. A bar where the specialty is the oyster-choco-viagra cocktail with a twist of tiger penis, and employees get all-you-can-drink.
This past Sunday night they were carrying on louder and longer than ever, and I actually hollered out the window, "FECKING WRAP IT UP ALREADY!!" right about 3:57 AM. But they didn't hear me. I was no match for the megaphone. I wanted to claw my ears off.
So the next day, I composed a very polite, very direct letter and had Mikey go affix it to their door. He almost drew a big, red "A" on the door, too, but we couldn't find the markers. For your reading pleasure:
Apartment #4,
There is an issue that's become enough of a problem that I must bring it to your attention. I don't know if you realize it, but your sex is very loud. I've tried everything I can think of to sleep through the screaming - using earplugs, pillow-over-the-head, trying to drown it out with the fan - but the screams are just too loud; nothing seems to work. For those of us with regular jobs, it's especially rough to miss that precious sleep between 2 and 4 AM on a work night, when you know you have to get up and try to function in just a few hours. We've all gotta share this tiny, noisy planet, and when we help each other out, our kindness comes back to us. Maybe you could try and tone down the volume of the screaming in the wee hours? Re-schedule your romps for a more decent hour? Or at least shut your window? Think of the great karma you will earn yourselves!
Thanks SO much for considering this problem, and happy (hopefully quieter) humping!
We dropped off the note Monday evening, while Mikey was doing laundry. Since the laundry room is right across from Apartment 4, he got to peek and see if the letter had been picked up every time he checked on the laundry. Finally, on the last load, the letter was gone. Mike and I stared at each other wide-eyed, partly giddy, partly frightened. He said, "You've seen the dude, right? Do you think I could take him if he comes knocking on our door all pissed off?" I assured him that surely this dough-y, aging frat boy would be no match.
Well, it's been three nights and not a PEEP from the downstairs sex fiends. Part of me is worried that we embarrassed the poor girl so badly, she's too afraid to even have polite, quiet sex now. Or maybe loud sex was the only thing they truly had in common, and we've given them no choice but to break up. Or maybe they started keeping HIS neighbors up for a change. Whatever it is, now I feel like sending them a fruit basket, or yelling out the window through a megaphone "THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME MY SLEEP BACK!!!"
I think I've killed the sex life of two people I've never met.
Sometime in the last two or three months, the girl in the apartment below us got a boyfriend. A boyfriend who comes over every night and apparently pounds her like a jackhammer on speed until 4:15 AM. This is not an exaggeration -- every night. From about 2 AM to 4 AM. I know, because I hear every second of it.
It sounds like she is sticking her head out the window, shrieking wild sex yodels into the night. Possibly through a megaphone. Nothing could drown out the monkey sex... not earplugs, not fans, not pillows, not the fantasies running through my head of me busting through their door, snatching the megaphone out of her hand and beating both of them over the head with it.
To make matters worse, Mr. and Ms. Humpy McFeckface prefer to get it on weeknights, not weekends. I think they don't have jobs. Or maybe they work in a bar. A bar where the specialty is the oyster-choco-viagra cocktail with a twist of tiger penis, and employees get all-you-can-drink.
This past Sunday night they were carrying on louder and longer than ever, and I actually hollered out the window, "FECKING WRAP IT UP ALREADY!!" right about 3:57 AM. But they didn't hear me. I was no match for the megaphone. I wanted to claw my ears off.
So the next day, I composed a very polite, very direct letter and had Mikey go affix it to their door. He almost drew a big, red "A" on the door, too, but we couldn't find the markers. For your reading pleasure:
Apartment #4,
There is an issue that's become enough of a problem that I must bring it to your attention. I don't know if you realize it, but your sex is very loud. I've tried everything I can think of to sleep through the screaming - using earplugs, pillow-over-the-head, trying to drown it out with the fan - but the screams are just too loud; nothing seems to work. For those of us with regular jobs, it's especially rough to miss that precious sleep between 2 and 4 AM on a work night, when you know you have to get up and try to function in just a few hours. We've all gotta share this tiny, noisy planet, and when we help each other out, our kindness comes back to us. Maybe you could try and tone down the volume of the screaming in the wee hours? Re-schedule your romps for a more decent hour? Or at least shut your window? Think of the great karma you will earn yourselves!
Thanks SO much for considering this problem, and happy (hopefully quieter) humping!
We dropped off the note Monday evening, while Mikey was doing laundry. Since the laundry room is right across from Apartment 4, he got to peek and see if the letter had been picked up every time he checked on the laundry. Finally, on the last load, the letter was gone. Mike and I stared at each other wide-eyed, partly giddy, partly frightened. He said, "You've seen the dude, right? Do you think I could take him if he comes knocking on our door all pissed off?" I assured him that surely this dough-y, aging frat boy would be no match.
Well, it's been three nights and not a PEEP from the downstairs sex fiends. Part of me is worried that we embarrassed the poor girl so badly, she's too afraid to even have polite, quiet sex now. Or maybe loud sex was the only thing they truly had in common, and we've given them no choice but to break up. Or maybe they started keeping HIS neighbors up for a change. Whatever it is, now I feel like sending them a fruit basket, or yelling out the window through a megaphone "THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME MY SLEEP BACK!!!"