My usual weekend bits have been on a fairly similar topic, my ever-fighting and doomed to a murder/suicide neighbors. I’m going to change that up a bit today, by letting you all know that I now have TWO sets of fighting neighbors.

More of the Same

Yeah, the upstairs couple are still going tooth and nail. A few days ago I was in the bathroom when I heard them upstairs. It was the usual build-up to their brawls. Stomping, the sound of furniture being moved / thrown over and over, as if they have an endless supply of coffee-tables up there, and then the yelling. It was all him this time. I could only make out the words he used emphasis on, so I took “shit”, “bitch”, “shut up”, and “ass” out of the conversation. The best part about this altercation was that he stopped out of nowhere in mid-yell. About 5 seconds later I hear a mighty piss-stream starting up. I heard the urinating begin and end, and felt absolutely no shock or surprise when I didn’t hear a flush or sink follow after. Instead he got right back to yelling as if the urgent waste removal didn’t even take place.

More of the Same…only BIGGER!

Our downstairs neighbors are directly across from us. Mind you that this means the only time we ever hear them is when they are heading in or out of their door. Oh yeah, the guy is big on those remote controlled helicopters so we did raise the blinds one day only to see a small helicopter and not-so-small man right up in our grill. Yes, he is a big man. Yes, she is a big woman. Neither is under 300 pounds, and the guy might be pushing 400 if he is unclothed and allowed to rest his bottom roll on the bathroom counter.

We were in the living room when we heard a loud verbal exchange outside. We’ve come to think very little of this…we’ve sort of gotten used to it. But when we noticed that it wasn’t coming from above us, but instead from outside the door…well we sure did take notice then. Come to find out the lard-lovers next door were having a bit of a quarrel before heading inside. It was very brief, but the phrase “I don’t give a damn” was overhead coming from the surprisingly not-food-filled mouth of the male neighbor.

A reenactment, just a billion times slimmer.

They had always seemed pretty happy to be honest. I was really amazed that they were fussing, and equally amazed that they were able to stand for that prolonged amount of time without dying. I’m not even exaggerating that much, as I have begun to notice they always take two cars when they go somewhere…which sadly (and hilariously) enough is because I don’t think they can both fit in one car. I’m being dead serious. On three occasions I’ve seen them both leave at the same time, go upstairs, and get in different cars and follow one another down the road. I can sorta see why. The guy just oozes the moment his ass hits that seat. It’s like if you rolled up a whole thing of Play-Doh into a snake, and then slowly pushed it down onto a flat surface. That sort of ooze is what this man is somehow able to do with human flesh.

I haven’t heard them fight again, and I am assuming it was just food-related. Like when our dogs briefly growl and snip at each other over a treat.

I like to imagine that he then proceeded to put his meat-hands all over her. Maybe even in her mouth, giving her a taste explosion of dirt, piss, and whatever crust he picks up when he scratches his balls. Oh yeah, my girlfriend also heard him proclaim that all of her friends “are bitches”.

In other news, I’m still in partial shock at “Black College Football Xperience: The Doug Williams Edition“. Maybe that is what all the fighting is about. Everyone in my complex must feel that they are the victims of racism and they don’t know how to handle it. Either that or their various addictions, whether it be food or booze, are killing their relationships and eventually them. I just like being able to blame it on a shitty College Football sim.

I also just realized 28 years into my life that I have no clue how to swim, so I have decided to work on that lately. I don’t know what will come first; being able to properly float, or getting over the shame of being 28 years old and not knowing how to swim. I did float for what I think was 3-4 seconds, and I dunked my head under the water once in school. Since I was fairly popular (or at least bigger than most of the other kids in school growing up), and since I was never interrogated by a member of the US military, that was my first time experiencing being submerged underwater. I didn’t die, so that is good. I look forward to trying that again soon and not pissing myself in the process. I’m sure I’ll let you know either way.

I am hoping to have a blockbuster article for you next week. I plan to throw a hamburger patty out when our fat neighbors are coming downstairs. I’ll try to get pictures after the fight is over.

If there are any remains that you can at least semi-recognize as human, that is.