Please won't you be my neighbor

I used to live in a high rise that had sound proof everything. Now I live in a rehabbed vintage building where every noise carries. It's very charming, except for one small problem; I've had it with the people that live upstairs from me. I'm sure I'm no peach to have living above you. I wake up early; I wear heels all the time; I'm generally a pretty noisy person- so if my BF and I are fighting, you'll hear it; if we're making up, you might hear that too. I do have a sense of timing though. I don't wear my heels while I'm getting ready for work, and I try to stifle my excitement when it's late at night. Still, I'm sure my neighbors have all heard noises coming from my place. But there is no way Michael and I rival the people living above us. I've only seen them once or twice. The guy is the typical dirty slacker type. I seriously doubt if this guy has a job. If he does, I'm sure he sucks at it. The girl is equally as unimpressive. She's in her early thirties with pasty skin, "dishwater blonde" hair that's been died black and, frankly, she's probably wearing dirty underwear right now (just a hunch). She's not ugly at first glance, but once you get a close look at her, you'll wish you had visited the unfortunate dark haired girl living one floor below her instead. It's not uncommon to hear them in a screaming match. I'm not talking about the occasional verbal back-and-forth most couples go through. I'm talking screaming. And the annoying-ness of her blood-curdling voice is matched only by the deep rumbling of his. To make matters worse, they also have a dog. I'm not a huge fan of dogs, but I certainly don't hold anything against people who choose to own one in an 1100 sq. ft apartment in the city. This is, however, no ordinary dog. They have a huge dog. It's got to be a solid 78 lbs. So what, right? I mean, if it were a 78 lb human being living above me, I'd never hear her. You'd think that would be true for the dog, too wouldn't you? Not so. In fact, having a 78 lb dog is the equivalent of having a 400 lb man on roller skates living above you. A 400-lb man who, incidentally, likes to play fetch with what sounds much like a lumpy 16 lb bowling ball.... at 11:30 p.m.... on a Tuesday... in those roller skates.

I wish I was exaggerating, but alas, I am not. I've tried pounding on the ceiling with the flat end of a Swiffer, with the pointy stick end of a toilet plunger and shooting dirty looks in the hall. I've even complained to my landlord about it. None of it has helped. The stomping, screaming and midnight bowling with the 78 lb dog continues. The visits from the police have ceased though, which is nice. The first week we were living here, a cop showed up at my door at about 2:00 in the morning. I wish I could say I was upset that a cop showed up at my door, but who am I kidding? He asked me if I heard anything "strange" going on upstairs (at which point I asked him if he'd like a cup of coffee while I tired to articulate all the "strange" things I'd heard in the past week). I, not surprisingly, did hear something strange not long before the officer arrived. I heard a loud bang, a crash and then the typical blood-curdling scream. As it turns out, the slacker boyfriend forgot his keys and, in his drunken stupor, decided he'd try to KICK DOWN the door of his apartment to get in. Brilliant.

Anyway, it's time for me to go. I had one of those days where I didn't have the opportunity to sit down until a little while ago when I put this computer on my lap to try to construct a decent post. I'm going to try to go to bed before the midnight bowling begins.