I'm in my bed, watching Dead Like Me streaming from Netflix. Even with the sound way up, I can hear these two guys outside. They're on the stoop of the building across the street talking. They've been out there ever since I got home. I'm on the seventh floor and I can still hear them, even though I've got something on and my window is only open about four inches.
I may as well just come out and say it. I hate loud people. Pretty much, the less someone has to say, the louder they say it. Alcohol certainly doesn't help matters. It appears that I'm wired funny. I've always tried to be less obtrusive. Ask
filarabit and
misterdoug, they were there the first time I got drunk in my own place. I didn't have the attitude that I was on my own and everyone else could go fuck themselves while I had a good time. I kept saying, "Shhhhh, you're being so loud!" Ah, Absolut Kurant.
I just don't get why two dudes sitting six inches apart across the street and seven stories down have to be loud enough to bother me.
And lo and behold, they finally shut up! Maybe they realized someone might be blogging about them and got embarrassed. Ha.