Won't You Be My Neighbor?

From my experience living in dorms and apartments, I can confidently say that I've had my share of interesting neighbors. Yet, as much as I would like to say that Loud Sexer, Piano Playing Old Lady, or even Annoying Couple Who Chased Each Other Around On The Floor Above Me were bad, I have to say that my current neighbor tops them all.

I think this is a neighbor of whom even Mr. Rogers would disapprove, and here's why:

So there I am minding my own business (and harming none of my neighbors, might I add!),

when I begin to hear a loud thumping noise that seems to have no direction of origin, but is definitely enveloping my entire apartment in a fast heartbeat-like sensation. Not only could I hear the beat of the music being played below me, but I began to feel it (and not in the way that musicians need feel the music, either; it was more like the way a drum feels when its drummer angrily pounds out the fast part of the song and his drumsticks are moving so fast you can't even tell which drum he's actually hitting but somehow it still sounds awesome).

Hours went by and there seemed to be no end to the techno.

I began rolling around Emily Rose style, begging for death over techno.

I can handle some techno music, don't get me wrong, but this guy had succeeded in blasting his beats all day long, and well into the night. I wondered for hours what the hell he could possibly be doing that entire time.

I could only imagine this:

24/7 Rave.

Wrist bands.

Bright colors.

Fake orange tan.

Super low V-Neck exposing wiry chest hair.

Baby pacifiers.

Explosive patterns.

Short shorts.

Loud music.

By the time Breezy got home, I was lying lifeless in the living room, having been brutally murdered by the techno music that had invaded my soul.

Ok, so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, seeing how my heart is still beating (even if the beat still causes me to act as if I am at a rave from time to time).