An Open Letter

Dear Neighbor Across the Airshaft,

I don’t know if you’re aware of this fact but we live in New York City. This has multiple ramifications for apartment dwellers like you and I, but the one you should be aware of is that apartments here are constructed out of papier-mâché and thus I can hear everything that goes on in your apartment. I’m sure I’ve been guilty of aurally intruding upon you; when I’m pumping some cleaning jams or watching television with Marlee Matlin. However, these volume-related indiscretions are relatively minor compared to what you put me through at least once a day.

Sunday morning, I was just sitting in my living room enjoying some leftover Chinese food and reading a book. Sounds peaceful, right? It was, until I start hearing what sounds remarkably like what I imagine a teddy bear being murdered must sound like. A high-pitched, repeated squealing noise. Can you imagine what that noise was, Neighbor Across the Airshaft? That’s right. It was you faking your orgasm during sexy fun times. You are having sex though right? Because no one makes noises like that when they are alone. However, I’ve never heard any of your male companions making a sound.

Don’t get me wrong, neighbs, I’m not opposed to you having sexual relations. But let me reiterate the fact that we live in a cardboard box. Even if you were really achieving orgasm EVERY time you and your boyfriend/the mailman/your super/that guy from Craiglist go at it (which I highly doubt), can’t you like stick your face in a pillow or something? Or turn on some music? Something. Anything. Because it sounds like you are in my living room. And it’s not just that we share a wall. I saw people on the street staring at your apartment. That’s three stories down. They were about to report a heinous teddy bear murder in progress.

Let’s brainstorm more constructive ways for you to express your pleasure. First, you could otherwise occupy your mouth by biting down on something. For example, I’m sure there is a pillow at your disposal. If not a pillow, your manfriend’s arm. If all else fails, bring some apples to bed. You can simultaneously smother your fits of passion and get some of your daily dietary fiber. Next, you could learn morse code to transmit your feelings to the manfriend. Here’s a helper: Dash, dash. Dot, dot, dot, dot. Dash, dot, dash, dash. Dot. Dot, dash. Dot, dot, dot, dot. Just slap that rhythm out every 30 seconds or so. Lastly, you could just incorporate a ballgag into your lovemaking. I’d say that’s a win for everyone.

So in conclusion, I’m glad you are getting banged out on the regular. I’m not so glad to be privy to the sound of your passion. Don’t make me fight fire with fire.

Yours truly,



Unknown said...

You should yell things that ruin the moment and things I use to keep myself in the game. BASEBALL! Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day!

Unknown said...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEGGLES!!! Can't wait to celebrate burlesque stylee on Saturday!!

-Bonus Round

Cassie said...

OMG hillarious. Sounds like my old neighbors from Oakland (Pittsburgh) There was no way she could possibly orgasm that often but thenagain, perhaps she's just a freak. I used to then mock her and make the same sounds she was...eventually she got the point and would use some sort of a gag. I'm telling you, some music you just can't make loud enough drown out all of the sex happenin'

Unknown said...

holy hell! im way jealous of your neighbor's consistent bang out sessions! right on! sorr bout the live show you get on the regular though cristobal...speaking of live show...cant wait for the live show birth of meggles on your birthday/saturday! aka happy birthday meg! you're....ok? LOVE YOU!

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

Hehe...thanks guys! <3

Annmarie said...

I think our neighbs are related. I've named the one above me Sloth, hoping that if i toss a baby ruth into the equation he'll STFU -- apparently that truly only works on the big screen. I'm not sure if he's lifting weights or running a sweat shop up there but sometimes i also hear machine gun fire which might be him playing the same three songs on rock band drums for 4 straight hours. I think our neighbors should meet and i think we should lock them in a small utility closet until they strangle one another -- saving us the hassle.

Casey said...

ugh this happened in my old apt all the time, but my neighbor lady was almost... whining. a weird whining like she was bored and it hurt her. and my walls were so thin i could actually hear their dirty talk. aaaawwwkward....

L said...

This sounds like good ol' Shelby and her boy toy that lived below me in Seattle. They would have knock out, screaming fights followed by the loudest porn star sex I've ever heard...I'm talking screaming, skin slapping, ass smaking sex. Shelby was obviously faking it because no one sounds like that...unless they had a porn film going every night in their bedroom, which is a good possibility. My boyfriend and I would start cheering after they would done, yelling out their scores on a scale of 1-10. After we rated their performance a shoddy 2.5, they closed the window.

Talia said...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Your fav astronaut

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

hehe thanks baby!!!!

Mike said...

Check this idea out:


THis guy went through the same thing as you, and found a really creative solution. Hope it helps!

Anonymous said...

LOL by far one of my faves. lol

Nothing says awesome like having a porno screening party

Anonymous said...

I dunno, fighting fire with fire is kind of....hilarious and awesome.

One of my roommates and I share a wall that might as well be a sheet hanging between our two beds, cause I can practically hear him scratch his nuts. And I can definitely hear him clean and load his pipe during his daily wake and bake. So when he had a ladyfriend now known as "porn star girl" over, it was all good. I mean I'm not going to rain on anyone's get-banged parade. But when the festivities started anew at 3 in the morning and one of us has a real job that involves getting up at 6am, I really wanted to bust out my ball gag and lend a hand, for the mercy of my ears.

Instead, I waited until my boyfriend was in town to seek my revenge. It's like I stole my bed from the supply room for every Hollywood "awkwardly loud squeaking bed" sex scenes. Now I'll tell you, I'm not a screamer...but sometimes my room doubles as a dungeon of sorts. Nothing like hearing the crack of a whip at 2 am, take that!

Perhaps my favorite part of our battles was a text message I received that said, "Jesus is watching you"... As my boyfriend plowed me in positions I didn't even know we were flexible enough to accomplish.

But it does get old after awhile...

Just not yet.

Anonymous said...

Very good entry. Anticipating the next one.

Anonymous said...

Truly am grateful what you're doing here!

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