Quick story about my luck with neighbours. Beside my unit is another large one bedroom unit where a pretty young lass G took to calling “Party Girl” lives. Party Girl and I share a concrete wall that separates our respective bedrooms.
… can you guess yet where I’m heading with this? …
Let’s just say Party Girl likes sex, which is fine and all, except her bed is really, really squeaky. Probably the mattress she had since she was a little girl. Probably attached to a brass headboard, which sadly, is about 6 cm away from the wall we share. So, when she gets rocking and the bed moves, the headboard bangs against the wall in rhythm to … well, let’s just say in rhythm. Oh, and she coos like a pigeon. Only occasionally do we hear her boyfriend/husband/partner (we’re undecided on his status), which is too bad ‘cause that’s far more exciting if you ask me.
So fine, for me. I sleep like a bear. Sadly, G has ‘princess-on-a-pea’ syndrome and has difficulty sleeping unless there is total darkness, no sound, and one of JQ’s little blue pills coursing through his system. How do you handle these situations we wonder? Wander over, knock on the door, and let her know? Casually bring it up as we’re descending in the elevator together one morning? Think of it as a contest and give back twice the banging and cooing she’s giving us? …. yes, troublesome.
Anyhow, one day, G enters and excitedly announces Party Girl is moving! Hooray, we think. Champagne time (though we’ll drink champagne on the drop of a hat). I feign a need to visit the garbage shoot by her door to confirm this. Leaving the condo, with my tiny bag of nothing whatsoever in hand, I return triumphant. Her door is open, boxes are packed, and the boyfriend/husband/partner is taping things up. Open the Pommery G!
And three weeks of glorious silence followed.
Then one day, we see a new face on the floor. A new neighbour in Party Girl’s old unit. She’s young, probably in her early 20s, rather demur and certainly modelesque. She looks quiet. We’re relieved.
… and then the sex starts. We dub her “Party Girl 2” and she’s taken up where Party Girl 1 left off. We take to comparing her with the previous occupant. Party Girl 2 has a quieter bed (amen for small mercies) but she is much, much more vocal while in the act. And there’s no sounds from the guy (we are presuming guy). Her vocalizations are more of the phone sex operator type, cheerleading-like, rooting for the guy, encouraging, LOUD!
G and I now wonder whether that’s her sideline job. Office assistant by day; phone-sex operator by night? Or webcam girl? She has sex at the oddest times. She sleeps most of the day and is up most of the night. Her preference being around 3:15 AM. Is she somehow linked to Amityville Horror, we joke?
So, again, the troublesome decision over what to do? Recommendations welcomed!
Oh, and in other news, scientists in Taiwan successfully bred fluorescent green pigs! I kid you not. They used jellyfish DNA to make the transgenic porkers. Check it out at BBC News.
Why glow in the dark pigs, you’re probably asking? Actually, there is method to this madness. They will be used to study human disease. Because the pig’s genetic material is green, it’s easy to spot. If some of its stem cells are injected into another animal it can be tracked far easier and –theoretically – without the need to resort to a biopsy or invasive test. Good gawd, what next?!