The Kid Upstairs Really Doesn't Have His Crap Together.

My God, man- were I the backwoods murdering sort, I'd be clearing out a space in the woodshed for this joker.

We've all been young, we've all been ugly, and we've all been guilty of carrying on conversations outside my bedroom window at quarter to eleven at night- but enough's enough. Here follows a short list of reasons why this kid's totally f-ed.

• The TV, which appears to be located directly above my bed, is continually on, and playing loudly, at all times.
• His car is overloaded with bags of toys. They never move. For months.
• He never checks his mail. The mailboxes are in the front of the house, and he and I are in the back. Currently, his mail has overloaded the box, and has dropped to the ground. There are three UPS "hey, douchebag, we've been trying to deliver your package" slips currently stuck to the wall by his box.
• Speaking of his box, I was witness to his girlfriend's leaving him some months ago. She was an odd duck as well; I could never tell if she was British or retarded. Maybe a little of each.
• The floor of the basement laundry area is littered with his debris. And, by debris, I mean clothes. He'll leave them there for weeks until they fall on the floor, at which point I kick them to the side of the dryer. There they remain. Also, he never cleans out the lint trap. Personal pet peeve.
• Per the landlord, his lawyer dad up in Wisconsin pays his rent. Get a job, hippie.
• I got drunk a couple of weeks ago and offered him some pizza. He refused.
• He is still outside my bedroom window having a conversation. Now it is five to eleven.

I am about to go outside to check on this shit. This shit cannot stand.

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Holy crap. Dude's not even outside. All this noise is coming through the floor.

This is worse than the clockwork 5:00AM sounds of adultery that came with the woman who used to live upstairs. Five minutes of mattress squeaks and grunts followed by the sound of a dude hustling down the stairs to pull his hidden little green woman car out of the garage and head off to his job at Lifetime Fitness. Both kept me from sleeping, but illicit sex is at least interesting.