Alliteration is Cool

Can I just share this, Dear Reader, that the crappy neighbors are moving? Yes, they're moving and I'm pretty happy about it, I can tell you.

You may recall that these neighbors, a man and woman of indeterminate age, moved in about a year ago and promptly summoned the police to our door because we had a really small gathering and were playing music on the stereo at a low volume on a Friday night. Who does that? Who moves into a new place and then calls the cops on the perfectly resonable and affable young hipster couple next door?

You may also recall, Dear Reader (but possibly not and you would quickly be forgiven), that these are the same unreasonable neighbors who complained to us numerous other times about numerous other things. One time, they came to my door at 6:00 on a weekday evening to complain about me playing music (my vinyl copy of The Slider, if anyone cares). I stood in the doorway, incredulous, as you can well imagine, and much the way you might stand if someone had the nerve to disturb you in such a way.

The guy invited me to come over to his place next door to hear what it sounded like in there, and I accepted, because I truly don't want to be an ass, and I would never want to infringe on anyone's tranquility the way he was making it seem like I was. I fully expected to step into his place and hear some kind of echoey, booming caucophany as if the exact placement of my speakers freakishly just happened to be above certain beams that carried and amplified the vibrations, making our units into some kind of giant string-cup-telephone thing. I really did, I thought it was going to be loud, and I was all prepared to say something like, "Golly, mister! I had no idea it sounded like that over here! I sure am sorry!"

Yes, but guess what? Of course, I couldn't hear anything. That's right. I stood there leaning forward, head cocked, straining to hear something as the guy gestured at his living room in self-satisfied, I-rest-my-case smugness.

He said, "See? We're sitting here, quietly trying to read, and there's this, 'Boom, boom, boom.'" I stood there in silence for a few more seconds, and then, finally my ears adjusted, there it was, the faintest little booming you've ever heard.

I told them that I could barely hear it, but that I would turn it down a bit, just as a show of good faith or whatever. I added that it was unreasonable for them to expect us to be imperceptible to them.

I mean, really. What would it take for you to feel compelled to march over to someone's home, pound on their door and tell them to shut up or whatever? Jesus. I'm saying that it would have to be a lot more than the faintest little booming you've ever heard.

Then there was that one time when we had our Three's Company theme party, and I tried to be nice so I wrote a note to them, giving them more than a week's notice, informing them that we would be having a party the following Saturday, with approximately however-many people, and that although they were sure to hear something, because after all it IS a party, we would try to keep the noise level down and if it got crazy to give us a call, here's my cell, and THEY responded with a note to US saying that they would allow us to have the party but that we should be aware that his wife had to wake up for work at 6 AM the next morning which was a SUNDAY and quoting the various rules that were were breaking by even having a party at all and suggesting that we'd better keep it down after 11:00 and what I REALLY wanted to do after that was march over there and inform them that, listen to me now, I was in no was ASKING you for permission to have the party, I was merely TELLING you that I was having one because I'm a polite and nice person who has fucking manners.

Anyway, Dear Reader, they're moving, and I don't even feel like telling you about all the other ways they're only ever been c0mplete, 100% creeps to us, but jesus christ we're going to have a really big party to celebrate on their last night here.