"That's the fucking truth!"
"You're a fucking idiot!"
"Shut the fuck up before I slap your ugly head!"
"Get the fuck back inside a get me a fucking beer!"

Life isn't so grand here at this upscale, expensive colony. When I moved in here two years ago, this was one of the most expensive apartment complexes in town, a gated community full of yuppies and families. You didn't have to worry about dings on your car because everyone was too careful with their imported sports cars and luxury sedans. The only noise pollution was the sounds of children laughing as they played in the playground. The couple above me was a friendly, married pair of medical professionals who were rarely home and slept all the time when they were. In a neighborhood like this, *I* was the riffraff, the young single man who had friends over until midnight to watch TV. Living here wasn't perfect; across from me was a snippy young couple who wouldn't give me the time of day, but today they would be the least of my worries.

It's been almost a year since new neighbors moved in above me and proceeded to STOMP STOMP STOMP every footstep. Near-nightly parties until the wee hours became the norm, and not just on weekends. Loud music, shuffling of furniture, and endless shouting were my companions many nights as I tried to fall asleep. While I looked forward to the anniversary of their arrival in the hopes they'd leave without renewing their lease, I couldn't help but notice a slide in the rest of the community around me. The luxury sedans were replaced by beat-up old pick-up trucks with obscene decals in the windows. The laughter gave way to throbbing bass beats and car alarms.

Tonight I came home to new neighbors above me to the side; I won't hear their stomping, but I've already heard their drunken, loud, obscene argument on the screened porch, which has been going for five hours now. They're fraternity brothers, standing in public view wearing nothing but crumpled baseball caps and low-hanging cargo shorts, waving their beer bottles as they shout their favorite four-letter word at each other from mere feet away, oblivious to foot traffic below.

On the surface, the apartments haven't changed at all. They're still immaculately maintained and cost a fortune, and you never spot a piece of litter twice. How have I wound up surrounded by obnoxious scumbags? I don't know where I'm going to go next, but I know it's going to be a house, preferably with a big lawn all around it.


Five Replies to Newer Neighbors Upstairs

Amy Austin | August 11, 2007
I'm so sorry for you, Scott... :-[

Can you see now why I can't stand to rent anymore and why I long to be back in *my own* house, even if it means buying one with ridiculous hazard insurance in Florida??? (Which is not as much the case in central Florida, btw...)

Jackie Mason | August 12, 2007
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Lori Lancaster | August 12, 2007
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Lori Lancaster | August 12, 2007
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Tony Peters | August 13, 2007
When I first started dating my wife we lived in this semi gated yuppie condo complex neighborhood in San Diego. One summer night really really late we are all trying to sleep and this guy and a girl are going at it....not a big deal except that she's one of those moaner/screamer types whole seems to take forever to cum (or he was just really bad we never found out) anyway her cries went on for a good 30 minute before I couldn't stand it anymore and yelled out the window at the top of my lungs (and I can yell LOUD, ask Amy) "Just make HER cum already so we can all go to sleep" Suddenly after a moment of quiet there is a good 30 seconds of applause from the rest of the neighbors. We never heard her again (poor woman) but we saw her for 4-5 months afterwards


Logical Operator

The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »

Feeling Lucky

Yesterday was my 13th anniversary of dating Kelly. We've been through many ups and downs together, and those downs have to do with why we're not married yet, but I love her as much now as I ever have. Here are 13 things that have been a part my life for less time than we've been dating: - The Internet. Go »

DMV Mystery

My last car, a 1996 Mercury, was registered in my mother's name, so every year in December (the month of her birthday), the registration sticker would be delivered to her at her house and she'd have to pass it to me to put on the license plate. No big deal. A few months ago, I bought a 2007 Dodge in my name, though she co-signed the credit application since I had no credit history. Go »

And If You're Not Careful, You Might Learn Something

Ten things I learned from watching the entire run of The Cosby Show over the last few months on Netflix streaming: - Cliff wasn't the only one who wore wild sweaters. - Seinfeld was celebrated as the "show about nothing," but this show had even less plot. Entire episodes just riffed for twenty minutes on Vanessa fretting over a test or Theo having a crush on a girl, nothing more. Go »

401.8

Most people wouldn't find anything to celebrate in weighing four hundred pounds. But when you're above that and working your way down, and that number is as high as your scale will go, it's a good milestone to cross. I've weighed more than this for at least four years (how long I've had the scale), and it feels good to know that I've dropped whatever weight I've put on during that time. Go »

Going Green

This thing might turn out to be as short-lived as my other two attempts at a personal blog, but damn it if I haven't craved having such an outlet for the better part of a year now. It seems like a week doesn't go by that I don't have some little adventure to turn into an anecdote or a frustration to rant about. My idle thoughts are as pointless as anybody else's, I realize, but that's what the Internet is for (besides porn). Go »

New Neighbors Upstairs

STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP... Go »