SELFABSORBED.ME

Dear Upstairs Neighbor;

I get it.
You have sex.
My understanding of your sex life is actually far more comprehensive then my understanding of my own sex life. Every night I wake up to the sound of your headboard slamming against the beams above my wall. Your sex is timely as well, always around 2am on the dot. Is it scheduled in your Blackberry? Normally I am right in the middle of my usual 2am dream which consists of Arctic Penguins and a bunch of British people in a pool. Regardless, you do have a consist rhythm which is, thankfully for me, only about eight pumps long, and then it is over. You also like to have sex at 7am, which has actually become a better tool for waking me up in the morning then my actual alarm now. But last Sunday, on the DAY OF JESUS MAY I REMIND YOU, at 2pm when I was trying to watch Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, your bed was hitting the wall harder than a coke-heads jaw. I was sitting there thinking, OK, enough, I get it. I mean, for the love of Jesus, you must have sex what 14? Maybe even 18 times a week? 18 times A WEEK? I think 18 times would be a good YEAR for me. I was tempted that bright sunny Sunday afternoon to walk upstairs and bang on your door screaming, “I GET IT! YOU HAVE SEX! I GET IT, FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST ALMIGHTY, LET THE WALL REST, THE WALL IS HURTING! THE BEAMS NEED A DAY OFF!” How much sex do you need to be having? I suggest one time a year. How about that? How about you read some books? Or invest in a hobby, such as darts, or chess? I also have some face masks and old teeth retainers that, when worn, I have found as a very preventative tool for ever having any sex ever again. Maybe you need a good show to watch at night? May I suggest CSI Miami? TLC’s A Baby Story? Or even ESPN’s How to Catch a Fish? And as much as I loved hearing your eight pumps in all their glory this morning, I have to say, I could do without. So please dear Neighbor, appease me and next time you feel like causing all the beams in my ceiling to shake and crack, remember that picking up a methamphetamine habit would be much more considerate.
Thank you,

Your Neighbor Below,

NYC Ponderings

Back, during the age of Yore, or Yoni, or Yoda, or something with a Y, I lived in a quaint 2 bedroom over on 80th Street. And by "quaint", I do mean, "really goddamn small" and by "really goddamn small" I do mean "confinement rooms in Armenian prisons were bigger." And even though the building had a no-pet zone, people were free to walk their roaches and mice daily and have them come over to our apartment for play dates and to learn pet tricks...I'm sorry, wait what? Those weren't play dates? No? Those were actual untamed mice and roaches living in our kitchen? But how did they know all those hula hoop tricks?...

...I digress... I realized that living in the small space that is New York City it is very important you pick up one characteristic that will help you get through the good times, the bad times, the times when you think you have no hope left at all.... Alcoholism.


Thus began what some people call, -'The Summer of '04' I like to call the- "What? There was Summer? When Did I miss that? Was I Seeping? Can Someone Turn Off the Damn Heat, Summer'

During this summer I learned many important things in life. For starters- the bush outside my doorstop was a lovely place to "take a nap"when you couldn't walk up the stairs after the bars and just "needed 5 minutes, just 5 minutes to rest... just let me sleep in this bush for 5 more minutes officer!"... I also learned during this time, that a cinnamon raisin with butter from H&H Bagels on 81st street tastes magically good at 4am. It is like they put fairy stardust in it and you want to scream from the rooftops, "Who created such magically good tasting cinnamon raisin deliciousness?!'....Until of course the workers at H&H ask you to step off your metal chair and stop screaming to the bush outside...But again, I digress.... I discovered that summer that you officially know you have a drinking problem when everything in your new apartment is analyzed according to how drunk you will have to be to break it.



My roommate and I went through our place room by room. By the first week we had come to the conclusion that:

#1-Painting on wall was too close to fridge...when drunk, will knock into painting


#2- Must put fish netting under balcony, will fall off it when drunk

#3- Steps to bedroom must be carpeted, or will slip when drunk and fall on back (and by "will" I do mean "have, done, taken care of")

#4- Wheels on bed frame must be taken off, otherwise will roll bed down street for amusement when drunk