Anger Burger


Posted by Sunday on Oct 7, 2012 at 11:23 am

When we were deciding whether or not to rent this house, one of the very first things I asked the landlord was “There aren’t any bands that practice nearby, are there?”  He pointed out each house and the names of the owners, and their careers and his guesses at their ages.  No one was the house band type.

Which means that of course the grown-ass, professional career guy neighbor directly next door to us hosts a band practice in his basement at least once a week.

It is the drummer that really bothers me, the hour-after-hour repeat of the same beats and rolls.  He got one of those wooden cowbell things not long ago, of all the heinous tragedies.  We keep telling ourselves we are going to go over there to say something, but really, what can we say?  Hi, my name is Sunday, we live next door to you?  We borrowed your lawn mower the first week we moved in and you were really nice about it?  Yeah, I want to shoot myself in the face with a heroin gun because I cannot fucking stand living next to other human beings, least of all your fusion jazz ear-pocalypse.

I would like to present to you the very real face I make in response to this bullshit:

Mike happened to – just at the very moment the neighbor started up at his drums – take a test photo while we set up for the Lloyd Dobler photoshoot from yesterday’s post.  Captured at the up-cycle of the eye roll, no less.  Excellent work, Mike.

October 7th, 2012 | Drama!, Totally Unrelated, True Story

4 Responses to Outtake

  1. Emily says:

    I just moved into a new apartment and discovered my neighbor’s band also! Their genre is more shape-note-with-accordions-and-banjos and their musical philosophy could be summed up as “if is sounds bad sing it louder.” I wouldn’t hate them as much if they were good (this is a lie – I hate everyone regardless of talent) but they don’t know how to harmonize and have no sense of pitch which means there is a lot of warbling through songs and end them by congratulating themselves “OHHH MY GOD THAT SOUNDED SOOOOO GOOD!”

    I don’t know what they’re called, but I’m hoping it’s something precious like the Tufted TitMice.

    Anyway the point is I feel your pain.

  2. Kate says:

    When I first moved into my apartment complex a few years back, one of my neighbors played his/her violin quite beautifully and only for short sessions in the midafternoon. Of course they immediately moved away so I never did figure out who it was and the simple joy was shortlived.

  3. Karen Hodges says:

    so this story reminds me of my grandfather who had some young gangster types move in across the street. they played their music so loud he could hear it in every room of his house. He made multiple calls to the sheriffs department. They would come out and speak to the fellas and the music would be turned down, but usually long enough for the officer to drive off. Well Papa decided to take matters into his own hands and got creative. After a quick visit to the junk yard he was ready. he took a old car horn and a car battery and placed it in his window facing their house. when the music came on the horn got plugged in. I know the horn was replaced at least once so he was burning them up. I crack up every time I think of him doing this. Well, the sheriff was called back a few times but not by papa. As far as i know they kept it down after that.

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