those crazy russians

at approximately 11:17pm last evening, i slammed a nail into the wall.

we all clapped our hands in glee.

when i first had moved into our apartment, we had no furniture. paul wasn’t moving in for a few more months and all that we did own was a bed and two 8′ tables that were stored for computer use. the living room, 20’x16′, was utterly and completely empty.

i heard everything my neighbors were doing downstairs. i heard them yell, cry, scream, fuck, throw parties. some nights i couldn’t sleep because i kept hearing her obvious love cries as he shoved his manhood down her tight love snatch.

i was not a happy camper.

thanksgiving weekend paul had come up to survey his new kingdom. as we had invited friends over to partake in our domestication, we heard banging on the floor. it was those crazy russians banging on their ceiling to get us to shut up. 8 people sitting around a table drinking and playing card games made them nervous. the hubby came upstairs and started screaming at paul. it was 8pm in the evening.

the following business day, i had gone down to the renters office to complain. here i am, a single girl living solo until the man of her dreams moves in and i have to deal with these morons and their high sex pleas every night.

they had beat me to it and complained to to the office about US. i laughed. the rental assistant (named appropriately lisa) told me that she knew they were crazy. she had lived below them for years and knew about their loud parties, their fights, and everything else. she offered to mediate and go talk to them and explain about how unreasonable they were being. later that afternoon, paul and i were taking a nap when someone pounded on the door. it was the crazy russian wife bearing cookies. since we were starving and feeling apologetic we made peace. later that night i got sick from said cookies and paul laughed. it figured, did it not, that their peace offering made us sick.

in the later months, as paul and i started to accumulate furniture, we really didn’t hear from the crazy russians again. one night they threw a hissy fit because i was putting together the teevee stand but it has been relatively quiet.

until recently.

we noticed that they were arguing more and stuff was being moved. a hand dolly had stood outside their door and on this past tuesday morning as i walked by their apartment door, i looked (i’m nosey) and saw that it was wide open. the apartment was empty. paul, who works from home, told me that while i had been at work they had moved all their things out.

they were gone.

paul and i rejoiced over this and secretly believe that our own love cries drove them out of the apartment. maybe they split up or maybe they found a house. who knows, who cares.

now all we have to do is get rid of the mcse across the hall who keeps trying to throw his garbage by our front door and we’ll be set.



s is just me, or does anyone else notice that most american top 40 radio stations are called “Z104!” or “THE EDGE 107.9!” or some bullshit? I swear to god, what the hell is our public listening to these days? It helps that my damn car radio has been on the fritz for the last four months and I have been listening to stuff recommended to me or to cds that I have bought (Luna has been spinning nicely in my player for the last week — the do a really neat rendition of ‘sweet child of mine’ by GnR). So tonight, sans Paul I turned on the radio to find out the choices I have are incredibly limited (it’s fourth of july for godsakes). I can either hear the Metallica concert (beer good — Napster bad) on the “alternative” station or I can listen to Z104! to their “greatest hits” which consisted of bad dance remixes of TLC and Britney. But I like Britney, so I sing along. And then I hear that stupid song “can you take me higher” by that lame band that was hot for a minute and then dropped just as fast due to all their lyrics sounds the same. I swear, the line “can you take me higher, to that place with golden streams” makes me think of someone getting a golden shower. or something.

anyways, through my solo ride cross country (yes, i drove cross country alone, i am COOL), it was the same deal. I remember thinking that I have 100 CDs (which I got bored with by the time i had gotten to Texas) and opportunities galore on the radio stations and ALL THE MUSIC sounded the same. It was unnerving. The only thing that seemingly amused me was that a radio station in Dallas was giving away a Mercedes. Only in Texas!