Won't You Be Mine?

My husband and I are not friendly. We don't make friends on vacation. We don't talk to our row-mates on a flight. And we never, ever, talk to our neighbors.

We have been living in our apartment for 3 years now and do not know a soul on our floor. Sure, there's "Z," the flaming (both in demeanor and in hair color) 30-something who blasts En Vogue and other 80's R&B at all hours. And our loud sex next-door neighbors to the left. But since we've never spoken to any of these people, I would hardly call that "knowing" our neighbors.

Ironically, the only neighbors we have spoken to are the people on the other side of our living room wall (not the loud sexers. clearly, we share a bedroom wall), and these discussions are always nasty and involve noise complaints.

It all started when we got our new TV and surround sound system. We were enjoying our electronics on a mere 25 volume when we got a knock on the door. “Please turn it down,” the neighbor said. And we obliged.

Since we hadn’t met our neighbor, we had no idea at the time that the person who came to tell us to turn it down did not actually live next door. He was just visiting.

-5 points to our neighbors for pawning off the uncomfortable task of asking us to turn down the volume.

The next incident was right after we got Rock Band. We were rocking out on a Friday night and got a call from the doorman asking us to turn it down. It was only 11:00. On a Friday. But still, we turned down the volume on the game, but continued to sing our hearts out. I was way too drunk to remember this correctly (as I see Rock Band as an all-immersive experience involving both rock and partying like a rock star), but I'm pretty sure the doorman called a second time with another noise complaint.

-10 points to our neighbors for having the doorman do their dirty work. Twice.
-25 points for being lame on a Friday night.

Have I mentioned that our neighbors have a dog? No? Well, that could be because I assumed that you and everyone within a 50 mile radius have heard their dog yap its head off on a daily basis. They also use the hallway outside our apartment as their personal dog park, so the dog can chow down on a squeaky toy at maximum volume directly in front of our door.

-15 points for raising a dog with no manners.

The guy next door also smokes cigars. In his apartment. With the door open. So the hallway and inevitably, my kitchen, reeks of cigar smoke.

-5 points for your self-important nicotine habit.

The guy next door also is a major D-bag with non-ironic mutton-chop sideburns and a spare tire. He is some kind of photo journalist who is constantly name-dropping in the elevator to our other neighbors who have been trapped into conversation with him. I really, really want to smack this guy.

This morning, he and I left our apartments at the same time and shared the elevator. After we exchanged hollow good mornings, the D-bag actually said, "I think your husband hates me." Obviously.

"Oh, really?" I feigned innocence.
"Yeah. I think it's about that dumb karaoke game. I bet you hate it as much as I do."
"No way. I love it." And anything else that you hate.
"Really!"
"Yeah, it's one of the only games we play together."
"I bet he's always playing, like, Ghost Recon or something. Well, he should go to Iraq like I did and then he won't want to play those games anymore."
I am not kidding. He actually name-dropped Iraq. -50 points.

So the residents of 14B are down 110 points for the year. And it's only August. I guarantee they make it a cool 200 by the New Year.