Friday, April 28, 2006

I'm learning to speak Bee

Why don't they play that commercial on tv anymore?

The "B" on my keyboard isn't working very well for some reason, so I'm warning you in advance that if a word doesn't make sense, see if there's a missing b somewhere in it.

I'm pretty sure that the three of us in the apartment are more mature than any of the other two apartments in the building. And that's even taking into account the basket of toys I have in my room (no, not those kind of toys; Kate's your go-to woman for those), and the fact that I'm currently watching the O.C.

I don't know what the downstairs people do...we see them about once a month, if that, and we're pretty sure there's a meth lab going on down there.

But the upstairs people are the total antithesis of what I want to be doing when I'm their age. And not just because one drives a Neon. They're two 40ish year-old guys, and as far as I know neither of them have regular 9-5 jobs. They're up playing ping pong (on a dining room table that looks like they picked it up from a yard sale) at all hours of the day, listening to bad music that's too loud, with the door to their apartment open like we're in a dorm. I woke up last week after midnight to their music, and went upstairs at 2am to tell them to turn it down...it was a weeknight! Shouldn't they be telling us to do that? I think I punished them enough though...since I was wearing some weird fleece pants/t-shirt/Halloween sock combination, with the glasses on of course too. The neighbor apologized profusely the next day and explained they were having a party because one of them was leaving for vacation the next day. I felt like an old granny having this guy that's almost my parents' age apologizing for keeping me up with his music on a weeknight.

The roommate came home last night from vaca around 12 last night, and I have a feeling they're celerating his return as we speak. I'm gearing up for another bonding night with my ipod & its rainforest sounds.

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