One thing I’ve missed in recent years is living near berko neighbours. Over the past few years, my neighbours have been disappointingly beige.
When I moved into this block of flats, I was praying for neighbours that could be easily cast into a sitcom. I’m proud to announce my wish has been granted! Seeing as I’ll no doubt be snidely bitching about most of them this year, I present… my Cast Of Neighbours 2010.
The drag queens
Shortly after I’d moved in, my mate Cam visited and phoned me from the car park.
“Hi. Um… I think… I think there’s two drag queens practicing a routine in your car park. Is this a… local thing?”
As if their car being adorned with a rhinestone steering wheel cover and tassels wasn’t enough evidence, I am living upstairs from two drag queens who dress in matching costumes. Every time I see them in the hallway, I have absolutely zero idea how to start conversation. Yes, I realise how unlikely it sounds that these folk are conveniently living in the same building as me, but independent sources can attest!
The Bickering Renovators
Periodic drilling, hammering and bickering: that’s all I hear next door. It seems this renovating couple can’t agree on what type of grout to use, let alone who should go to the shops to buy some milk.
Their presence is made incredibly awkward due to the fact that their balcony is much too close to my toilet window. Let’s just say my “movements” have stopped a balcony conversation more than once.
The nana I’m probably slowly killing with stress
There’s a mute nana living next door who slams her door shut in an anxiously terrifying manner when she’s coming home, and hears me about to leave. She seems worryingly afraid of me, and all I can put it down to is the metal I’ve been playing. I’m sure I’ve been written off as a Devil Worshipper.
The angry writer
There’s a fellow downstairs who introduced himself shortly after I’d moved in. At this stage, I was busy hammering together my newly-acquired furniture from the Omnipresent Swedish Furniture Store. He almost kicked down my door, raging and shirtless, demanding I FUCKIN’ STOP THAT HAMMERIN’, SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO WORK DOWNSTAIRS.
I’m not sure why I imagine he’s a writer, he just seems like the kind of fellow who sits at home nursing a healthy addiction to alcohol, and bitterly spits out words for cash. He continues to glare at me in the hallway to this day.
The 20-somethings
These three flatmates are always wearing neon-coloured clothing and seem to be the cast of Friends: Rebooted. They’re always behaving too jovially, drinking cocktails and playfully shoving each other around. THERE WILL BE NO FUN GOING ON WHEN I’M FRESH OUT OF A RELATIONSHIP, THANK YOU! (waves walking stick around)
I suspect they’re also the source of…
The mysterious neighbours who need to play Rammstein’s song “Pussy” before they can have sex
It’s killing me not knowing the precise source of where this is coming from, but it happens like clockwork: I’ll hear the opening riff to the song, then the girl and fella start theatrically groaning until they’re completely sated. The song stays on repeat during this entire process. At first, it was annoying, now I rather look forward to it. It’s like a saucier version of those gigantic clocks in shopping centres where animatronic animals pop out on the hour to play a xylophone.
Mostly, I just want to know who it is so I can shake their (washed) hand. High fives to anyone screwing to metal music!
The Royal Doulton obsessive
In the apartment building over the road lives a woman who has hygeinically layered her entire living space in doilies. She seems surrounded by a ridiculously overblown collection of antique lamps and Royal Doulton collectables, which I am almost certain fill the emotional void of a bitterly absent significant other. On the hour, every day, 8am and 8pm she’s dusting her entire collection. It makes me scream with rage, especially as I’m certain I’ve spotted her disdainfully glancing into my apartment and judging the mess I have over here. GO AWAY! DO SOMETHING IMPORTANT WITH YOUR LIFE! STOP DUSTING!
The dude who should be cast in a Nutri-Grain ad
There’s a fellow up the road, easily 50 years old minimum, who is absolutely ripped. Every morning and afternoon he’s running down to the beach with his windsurfing gear. He makes me feel Unhealthy and Fat, but goddamn he’s awesome. I want to be his sidekick and solve beach-based crime together.
The might-be-gays
These blokes are the most elusive. They live in the building over the road, and I generally only see them in silhouette when they’re drinking on their balcony. They all seem to be having such a good time together and I want to join in, dammit! Especially after I caught a fleeting glimpse of one of them in their undies.
I’m really not sure if I’m projecting or not here. They seem to be very touchy-feely with each other, so I’m drawing a few conclusions. For the sake of the universe, I shall continue monitoring.
So: that’s everyone I live near these days. For the sake of my conscience, I truly hope one of my neighbours is bitching about me on the internet somewhere now.
{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
I’ll take two servings of The Drag Queens please – probably the most stable ( and funnest!) folk in your neck of the woods.
J
Hmmm…
South of the river, north of the river, or on the western frontier?
I’m guessing Richmond.
I do not believe the Rammstein story!
Audio proof or it didnt happen
Apart from the drag queens (natch) I reckon my favourite is the angry writer – anyone who freely throws around a good ‘fucken’ every now and then is orrite by me..