weekend pickthrough- noisy neighbors edition.

so i know that last week i was all promising to squeeze the weekend pickthrough out by friday… but i assure you that i have a totally valid excuse for my failings this week. TOTALLY VALID!  (thought you might be more convinced of the validity if i used all caps). anyway, thursday night i went out with some friends, drank too many ciders, and then rambled home around midnight. at home, i tried shoveling some leftover mexi-mac into my craw for a few minutes, and then promptly passed out on the couch. easily, this could be the end of the story (although drunkenness wouldn’t exactly be as TOTALLY VALID as previously purported).

so i wake up around 2ish and decide that i should probably drag my drunk ass to bed if i’m going to make it to work in 5 hours. teeth brushed. sweatpants on. i hurl myself onto the space foam face down ready to lapse into an immediate coma…. and then i hear it: BOM-CHICKA-BOM-BOM BOM-CHICKA-BOM-BOM BOM-CHICKA-BOM-BOM. what’s that? the endless thumping bass line of my frat-boy cliche next door neighbors? i tried valiantly to let the booze wash over me and cancel out the thumping, but it was too late. i was sobering up, and unless they turned that shit down, i was never going to get to sleep.

so i go downstairs with the intention of gently knocking on their door and calmly letting them know that they are disrespectful assholes who should probably kiss my ass before i kick theirs… but they didn’t answer. i knocked louder. and louder. and eventually resorted to karate kicking the shit out of their door as loud as i possibly could for a good 5 minutes. still, no answer.

i finally went inside and devised the following master plan:

1. write sternly worded note that will effectively elicit guilt, shame, and compliance.

2. tape note to door.

2. emblazon door with the phrase “DOUCHE PALACE” in red lipstick.

4. write note to landlord regarding their inconsiderateness.

the note happened pretty swiftly, but looking for a lipstick that i was willing to ruin took slightly longer that i predicted. armed with tape, a wet & wild coral lipstick, and all the rage that my 5′ 7″ frame is capable of containing, i stomped across the porch to their door.

and then, the guy came out. FUCK. sadly, my plan would never make it past stage 1. also, i was so filled with fury (and booze), that i’m pretty sure i didn’t make much sense while i attempted to rip him a new one. i remember yelling DUDE a lot, and when he apologized, saying something like “GODDAMN RIGHT YOU’RE SORRY”, but the rest is an unfortunate blur.

i was shaking all over when i came inside around 3:15, which resulted in me not heading back to bed until around 4-4:30. seeing as i get up at around 6:45 to get ready for work…. that would equal exactly NOT ENOUGH SLEEP FOR BASIC HUMAN FUNCTION.

so last night after work (and a really big bowl of pasta), i did not pass go, i did not collect $200, i did not write my blog post… i went directly to bed (and slept for about 13 hours). so i’m sorry about the delay, but if you have any formal complaints, you can address them to the douche palace.

this hilarious sweet disorder post is just called “prostitute laundry”, and i think that’s all the introduction you need.

things organized neatly caters to my OCD-ness in the most attractive way possible.

i’m buying this book for everyone on my xmas list. and if you’re lucky, i’ll likely host an ill conceived giveaway so that you can have a chance to get one too.

let’s all leave little presents for strangers.

of all the mad-men spinoff websites that have emerged, this one is BY FAR my favorite.

the always amazing elisa doucette shares her dirty ex-stalking secrets, and helps us break the habit with EX BLOCKER.

i’m not sure whether designing speed bumps that look like small children is utter brilliance or a soon to be tragic mistake.

name brand foods are totally worth it if you coupon the shit out of them. too bad nobody told slashfood about that.

my child rescued the princess with no warp pipes (i don’t even have kids, and i demand that these stickers get made).

why are the really boring things on antiques roadshow always the most valuable? where are ben franklin’s anal beads or the left toe of hunter s. thompson?

new addition to the local blogroll! sort of webcomic meets fitness chronicle meets me almost peeing on myself with laughter.