So ever since living here I’ve had issues with the gayelle couple below. I party and come home late, I have parties, I wear heels, I have a dog, I have hetero sex…loud hetero sex (so what) and I get the broom (bang-bang) to the ceiling on a daily basis….while I do not think that I should be punished for doing normal daily fun things.. I think last nights episode may warrant a letter from the landlord.
A friend and I went to the wineries. We drank loads and then went to dinner and drank loads more.. oh and let me tell you, the omega-level winery and twomey were very generous with the pours so the buzz was on in full force. ok, so anyway, we get back to my place and i tell him to drop me off so he can go find parking..i couldnt be bothered to walk two blocks..so i go in, and attempt the stairs, wine glasses in hand… i totally tripped like a dumb ass and the wine glasses i had in my hand shattered to bits all over the floor DIRECTLY in front of the gayelles door. Apparently it was really loud cause everyone came out..UGH..so i run for my life, bloody hand and all..I fumble around with the keys until one fit and locked the deadbolt… meanwhile all of the neighbors are out like what the fuck was that all about. that is all I need. Granted it was only 9:00pm but still I am sure they think I did it on purpose. In fact, the old lady who was found sweeping it up asked if there had been a fight and friend says no.. i just dropped her off… she then said that both of the gayelles saw me booking it up stairs…dam i suck.
every fucking place i live,with the exception of the mission district, i have had problems with neighbors. Usually, it’s a pervert issue. Not so much me partying. In fact I used to rollerskate in my last appt and never got a complaint from the people below. Except for when i accidentally locked myself out,pulled my car up on the the sidewalk and had my friend take the fire escape..he accidentally went into the wrong window (people below me). woops. they did not like that very much. in fact, he almost got stabbed. Actually, many of my friends used the fire escape to get in if I wasn’t home. I had an open door, er, window policy and the manager didn’t appreciate the constant flow of people, both clothed and naked, coming and going at all hours of the night.. It was fun though. Best times were had at that place. I had a bed that slept 4 comfortably and I managed 7 one night (all just friends dont be gross). My bachelorette pad…when I finally moved my best friends mom said “ohhh it’s the end of an era”. I still drive by it now and again and wonder who is in my space. Maybe it’s another me…friends over 5am, drinking wine…getting up on the kitchen table to dance and getting whacked in the head by the ceiling fan – twice…
and then there was the creepy pervert who told me if i ever wanted to ,”ya know, get it on” while making a ramming fist like gesture, to just tap on the wall. He informed me that our beds were along the same wall ( i so rearranged )..I would come home at 3 or 4am to find him at my door with a bottle of tequila in a fucking robe, so nasty. He would leave post it notes …and the second I came home at night from work he was at my door knocking to “party”. I literally came home, and tiptoed, terrified…didn’t turn the hall light on because the doors had stained glass and light came through….yikes. I actually caught him standing over my bed one night because I fell asleep with the door open. fucking wierdo.
what a life. i miss it. i miss england. im going back now. bye
