OH GOD! It's like the Discovery Channel meets General Hospital!
Sarah and Adam's relationship is metamorphsizing.
Their "After 10PM Noises" have changed from whining and giggles to full on baby talk and Discovery Channel sound effects, with whistling, sobs, and groaning thrown in. With Adam to lavish attention on her twenty four seven, I'm pretty sure Sarah is in heaven.
I am in Hell.
I'm serious about the whistling. They attempt two part harmonies (and fail) often enough for me to consider investing in a pair of godawful-expensive noise cancelling headphones. And of course, since they both have the conbined emotional maturity of a four-year-old, giggles turn into whining which turn into hysterical sobs which fade into grunts which is all very good for their hormones, but is really getting on my nerves. Plus, I'm getting sick of hearing how all the food in Sarah's cabinet is for Adam, and how he's hungry, so she needs to make him some ravioli, or order a pizza, or pop some godawful smelling diet cheese popcorn. Which, if you didn't know, smells like something that's passed through the system of a sick old woman, and permetaes the dorm like some heinous mustard gassy pestilence.
I'm going to punch someone very soon.
That, or I'm downloading a series of Marvin Gaye and Barry White to blast whenever the noises reach a crescendo.
Their "After 10PM Noises" have changed from whining and giggles to full on baby talk and Discovery Channel sound effects, with whistling, sobs, and groaning thrown in. With Adam to lavish attention on her twenty four seven, I'm pretty sure Sarah is in heaven.
I am in Hell.
I'm serious about the whistling. They attempt two part harmonies (and fail) often enough for me to consider investing in a pair of godawful-expensive noise cancelling headphones. And of course, since they both have the conbined emotional maturity of a four-year-old, giggles turn into whining which turn into hysterical sobs which fade into grunts which is all very good for their hormones, but is really getting on my nerves. Plus, I'm getting sick of hearing how all the food in Sarah's cabinet is for Adam, and how he's hungry, so she needs to make him some ravioli, or order a pizza, or pop some godawful smelling diet cheese popcorn. Which, if you didn't know, smells like something that's passed through the system of a sick old woman, and permetaes the dorm like some heinous mustard gassy pestilence.
I'm going to punch someone very soon.
That, or I'm downloading a series of Marvin Gaye and Barry White to blast whenever the noises reach a crescendo.