All my fly bitches like (dirty money, dirty money)
All my stripper bitches like (dirty money, dirty money)
All my college hoes like (dirty money, dirty money)
Dont it spend so right? (dirty money, dirty money)
Clipse "Dirty Money"
Last month my upstairs neighbor moved out; she was cool and all, but a total theater nerd (not that there is anything wrong with that) but she utilized her apartment as a rehearsal space, which meant I was subjected to an annoying cycle of people singing and dancing, right above my head.
Obviously I was excited when she moved out, but that excitement quickly faded when I became aware that the new occupants are ALSO theater nerds who think their apartment doubles as a rehearsal space. UGH X 10!
Mostly I can put up with it, the noise that is. But this afternoon I had nothing to do except catch up on silly TV shows, specifically Parks & Recreation (I love you Amy Poehler!) only to be rudely interrupted by the troupe upstairs stomping in circles for a fucking hour.
There was only one real solution I could think of, which was to bust the classic Clipse's album "Hell Hath No Fury", which is an ode to dealing cocaine, at ear splitting decibels. My brother's old Awia speakers shook for their very life, but it was worth it. Plus, that record kicks all kinds of ass. I mean, it's like the PERFECT soundtrack to a pleasant night out to a seedy strip club.
The moral of this story is: DO NOT come between a gay man and Amy Poehler. I'll cut anyone who tries (figuratively that is). Or simply subject you to lyrics like "Bagging up grams at the higher dough/The news called it crack/I called it Diet Coke (Ohhh!)".
2 comments:
Justin!
Perhaps a more mature way to handle it would've been to knock on their door and politely tell them they're being too loud.
Now you probably seem like a passive-aggressive prick to them.
As the saying goes, "You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar."
-Dean
Ha you made me look up the song dirty money. I like it
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