this was his variety pack.
Crazy Guy Upstairs …but the kitchen sink!
On this morning, before I’d even made coffee, I was prancing around our pool snapping cell phone pics. Neighbors saw me and I gave them a responsible glance. As if to say, “I’m taking care of it.” They might have assumed I was sending the pics to the company that owns the building but they’d be wrong. I was simply taking care of a day’s Instagrams.
Let’s see what we got:
Boot Completion- The pair is complete. My Beatles tribute band just got a bit my stylish.
Coffee mug- Me thinks someone should switch to decaf.
Television Remote Innards- As long as it’s the innards of electronics and not the innards of me, my roommate, one of our neighbors, or anyone at all, I’m cool with it.
Douchery didn’t have to stop in NYC. It followed me to LA and lives in my building.
Crazy Guy Upstairs The Dishes Are Done, Man
At this point, everyone in my apartment building knew the Crazy Guy Upstairs was no longer fucking around. Suddenly, clothing and footwear seemed adorable compared to dishware soaring off a third floor balcony. Our days of innocence had passed and we were no longer sharing bemused shrugs about our trouble making neighbor upstairs. We were now saying things like “Should someone call someone about this?” “I think someone should call someone about this.” and “Someone should call someone.”
A pair of pleated slacks drops on your head and you got a story to tell your friends over dinner. A complete set of dishes drops on your head and you might get a less attractive look for the rest of your life. You could also be killed. But getting a good photo of it will defs up your Instagram Likes.
The saga continues. And it’s getting worse.
Crazy Guy Upstairs Sock It To Me
Gross, right? Wet socks. Especially, wet dress socks. Especially, wet dress socks floating in your pool. I found these socks to be the most offensive thing the Crazy Guy Upstairs ever threw into our pool. What a fuck you to everyone that lives in this building. "Yeah, take that ya suckers! Let those puppies steep and the pool will be filled with my footbag tea!", I imagined he screamed in Russian as he flung his black dress socks into our pool.
Furthermore, black dress socks are the villains of the sock world. They are the only thing a husband wears while cheating on his wife in a cheap motel. They are what I’m assuming most dictators wore stretched tight to the knee. They love finding their way into the lint trap and now they get thrown into community pools by crazy neighbors.