A singing man walks by my apartment door every day. He is singing opera-style, and not being ironic about it.
Sounds I would rather hear:
The "clip" sound of my own cervical biopsy.
My parents doing it. Sorry mom.
A gillion dollar bill being ripped - especially if it were something I'd earned.
Stephenie Meyer talking about the art of writing
Someone hungrily scraping an empty yogurt cup in a quiet but public space, as if there's more yogurt in there that they'll get if they JUST KEEP SCRAPING.
The sound system going out suddenly in a strip club full of breathing men
Especially if a stripper busted ass right at that moment.
I've only heard the first and fifth, so I can't say if the freaks in my neighborhood are really worse. But I really would prefer both of them to the sound of the people who live above me, and that guy whose singing voice sounds like raw eggs being beat with a fork.
In a perfect world, there would be no bony-footed, urgent, stompy people living above me, and there would be such a thing as a gillion dollar bill. I would earn it by writing this blog, as most people want to read a blog that includes things about farting strippers and my pieces of my reproductive organs being lauped for cancer screenings.
The only reason I'm not rich is because there's no such thing as a gillion dollar bill.
But the world is perfect enough - because I'm off to see my blogger friends Ms Hobbs, The Shitsky, and Mushbelly. And leave my lyrical neighbor in peace.
Sounds I would rather hear:
The "clip" sound of my own cervical biopsy.
My parents doing it. Sorry mom.
A gillion dollar bill being ripped - especially if it were something I'd earned.
Stephenie Meyer talking about the art of writing
Someone hungrily scraping an empty yogurt cup in a quiet but public space, as if there's more yogurt in there that they'll get if they JUST KEEP SCRAPING.
The sound system going out suddenly in a strip club full of breathing men
Especially if a stripper busted ass right at that moment.
I've only heard the first and fifth, so I can't say if the freaks in my neighborhood are really worse. But I really would prefer both of them to the sound of the people who live above me, and that guy whose singing voice sounds like raw eggs being beat with a fork.
In a perfect world, there would be no bony-footed, urgent, stompy people living above me, and there would be such a thing as a gillion dollar bill. I would earn it by writing this blog, as most people want to read a blog that includes things about farting strippers and my pieces of my reproductive organs being lauped for cancer screenings.
The only reason I'm not rich is because there's no such thing as a gillion dollar bill.
But the world is perfect enough - because I'm off to see my blogger friends Ms Hobbs, The Shitsky, and Mushbelly. And leave my lyrical neighbor in peace.
1 comment:
Bony footed, urgent, stompy people are the worst! I never lived with people above me, but used to take care of an old lady who had people above her. I thought I was going to lose my mind listening to their clonking footsteps all night. Boo to that!
My worst sound ever is a dog licking him/herself. I love those four legged beasts, but holy crap does that make me climb the walls. Luckily Indy rarely does it, but even when he licks his lips and makes that yucky sound. Ick!
:)
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