I was rudely awoken this morning at the ripe hour of 6:45 to the sounds of passionate sex being had above me. This was after falling asleep to the sounds of wild passionate sex being had above me. And right now, as I type this, they are going at it again; this time in the living room above me.

I think I am starting to go crazy!

Not that I haven’t experienced this phenomenon before; I did live with 8 girls in an old house during college. The walls were paper thin and I could hear everything from giggles to bed springs to even the slightest breath. But those were my friends. I had no problem marching up the stairs, gently knocking on the door and reminding said roommate that not everyone needs to know how “good that feels.”

I don’t know the dude who lives upstairs. In fact, until I heard two male voices moaning in the throes of sex last night, I had no idea that he was gay. And it is not like that makes a difference for me at all; I don’t want to hear anyone – gay or straight – screaming “F*$! ME” at 6:45 on a Sunday morning. Nor do I care how either of the parties “likes it” or where their next fornication location is going to be. (Yes, I did hear one boy throw out the idea of “taking this to the shower.”) But my point is that I barely know my upstairs neighbor, making it virtually impossible for me to broach this touchy subject with him. Read More »

 This couple puts all those crazy cat lady stories to shame.

Earlier this week, officials invaded the New Jersey mansion of Philip Tamis, 66, and wife Cynthia Stewart, 49, finding over 100 “malnourished and neglected dogs and cats”.

ASPCA workers were horrified to find the old, decrepit mansion full of feces and decaying animals. Many of the dead cats and dogs had been deceased for over a year.

Apparently, Tamis was a Merrill Lynch securities broker, a man who went to work every day and came back every night to a house more disgusting than any one of those Saw movies. His wife…evidently spent all day milling around shit-strewn floors.

As rescuers carried out the animals that were still living on Tuesday, Cynthia Stewart reportedly ran to the door shouting, “they’re my babies!”

After the New York Post ran this story, people everywhere simultaneously decided their neighbors really weren’t so bad after all.

I have these neighbors. On both sides. Who are horrible.

My roommate and I call our apartment the Bermuda Triangle of Loud. We call it that because both sets of neighbors are completely and totally oblivious to the fact that they’re living in a place where the walls are as thin as cardboard.

On one side we’ve got the couple who scream obscenities at each other at midnight, throw things, and watch horror movies into the wee hours of the morning, forcing my roommate to close her eyes to the sound of people getting their heads ripped off. On the other side we’ve got a posse of flipped-collared college boys who can’t be any older than 22, throwing ginormous parties every day of the week (and who pee off their balcony when drunk).

Now, I’m a big believer in letting people live their life how they see fit, but when it starts to interrupt my daily activities (and my roommate’s dreams), I get pissed. How does one not understand the basic rules of living in an apartment? How is one so rude that they just don’t care? And most importantly, how should I go about telling them off?

If you’ve got noisy neighbors (and those of you moving into college for the first time next year most likely will), there’s a few ways to go about it.

At first, give it some time. Not everyone is used to close quarters living, and some people may not even know they’re being as obnoxious as they are. Let them settle in, get the hang of the place, before deciding you live next to idiots. Read More »