Being the random thoughts of Greg Tito, age 29.

Announcements for my standup comedy gigs are here at gregtito.com.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Hidely, Hodely, Neighbor

I live in a very loud neighborhood. Or as my wife, Mephistopheles, would say, "All this place has is rich little brats who never go to sleep." To be honest, there is often loud music playing in one of the adjacent apartments. And because we live on a block of houses built right next to each other, there are four adjacent apartments, one up, one down, one on either side. These buildings are old, there is not very much sound-proofing. So anytime any of our neighbors is playing music, we can hear the bass-a-pumping, sometimes to the point of vibrating floors and walls.

Now this bothers me, especially when I'm tired and just want to rest my eyes for a couple of minutes. But it doesn't consume my ever-waking thought. That is how it affects Mephistopheles. She will bitch and complain and stomp her feet for hours at a time if there is any hint of bass in our apartment. We will be in the midst of a conversation and she will stop talking to, turn off the TV, and say, "SHHHH!" Just so she can hear the bass which I am trying to ignore. Then she will scream, "I hate living here!" and go off on another tirade about how she works and is tired and she just wants to go to sleep. Even though she's watching TV and talking to me. It gets to the point where if I come home and I hear music, I am not bothered. I am dreading my wife's reaction more than the bass pumping.

Last night, there was a party at our next door neighbors. Their window was open so as I walked up my stoop I could see the twenty-somethings all gathered around some turn-table thing and mock rapping. It was really loud. I didn't want to walk into my apartment, for I knew Mephistopheles would be inside, cleaning the gun.

Before I was even inside the door, I hear, "Just so you know, the neighbors are having a party and Jeremy (our downstairs neighbor) is playing music too." As if I wouldn't notice. No "Hello, honey, how was work?" No "good to see my loving husband." And as predicted, the loudness of the music and the insensitivity of everyone around us dominated the conversation, no matter how many times I asked what the secret ingredient was on Iron Chef.

What's the point of all this? I don't know. I just know that people playing music doesn't bother me that much. I can ignore it. Mephistopheles does not have that ability, or if she does, she chooses not to use it. I for one believe it is the latter because even though we did call 311 and the cops did come to tell the partiers to be little quieter, you could still hear music when she went to bed. And she went right to sleep.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Ahh, wedded bliss, aye Boob.

Bob Jingle said...

Yes, I love boobs.

ps. Who are you? My friends and I have been trying to figure it out.

Anonymous said...

Ian's Dad, but don't tell anyone.

Bob Jingle said...

I won't tell a soul. Not even the people who might be listening on the internet.

Anonymous said...

Just for the record, there is another anonymous out there and I don't know who he or she is. I can really have some fun with you guys now, Boob and Ian.Talk to you later, maybe or maybe not.
Signed, Ian's Dad(for the last time)

Ian Savage said...

DAD!!! Your embarrassing ME!!

Hahahahaha!