Through the walls

We will all have terror stories about either A. roommates, or B. neighbors at some point in our lives. I wouldn’t consider my neighbors to be terrors, but I would consider them to suck hardcore. I have written about them before, my first impression was no better.

I have 16 more days to live in this apartment, and based on precedent, I guarantee I will  have 16 weird things happen. I live in a one-bedroom apartment on campus. This apartment complex has one, two, and three-bedroom units. Next door to me, there are three-bedroom apartments on each side.

On a nightly basis, between the hours of 2 and 3 am, I hear rather loud domestic disputes coming through one side of my walls. When I say domestic disputes, I don’t mean little quarrels or minute arguments…I mean full-fledged, raging, angry, hateful LOUD NOISES through my walls. “You stupid, sl*t,” and “You lying as*hole,” are not rare phrases for me to overhear on the reg.

First of all, they have a baby. Second of all, the woman kicks the man out every night. Yet, he always happens to be back the next night. I don’t know who I’d rather punch, the woman for taking him back, or the man for doing something to deserve being kicked out for.

On the other side of my trouble housing apartment, there is a lovely young gentleman that never wears a shirt, is slightly to moderately obese, and has a ponytail down to his lower back. He is also in a metal band. Cool. I have no problem with metal music…or big-boned people (as Cartman would say).

However, when I start hearing his screaming voice, like nails on a chalkboard in the middle of the night, I begin to become disturbed. I do not know what his roommates think of this, because I have never even seen them. For all I know, they could be chopped into little pieces and stuffed inside the amplifier. But, I won’t worry about that until I have to.

If the music sounded good, I would probably go knock on the door and say, “Hey! Sounds good, I’m in a rock band, too, we should jam sometime…” (I’m not in one, but I’d pretend). But, unfortunately for me, he sucks. And it hurts my brain. At 2 am. All the time. All the time. All the time. All the time…

So, in conclusion, if you see me after graduation and I have developed some sort of tick or incurable syndrome, my living situation could be to blame. Not 100% certainty, but I wouldn’t rule it out.

Cheers!