And I mean you, Ms. Icepick Voice. I don’t understand how you do it, but somehow every single attempt you make at communicating is audible through my door and over my music. You produce noises that go beyond merely “loud” and into “fucking obnoxious”. And not only are they really goddamn loud, they’re indescribably irritating. Somehow you produce sounds that combine all the worst elements of glass-cutting, nails-on-chalkboard, cottonballs-on-teeth, screeching children, and out-of-tune brass instruments. I didn’t even know someone that old could squeal like that. I’d call it ululating, but then I’d insult all other ululaters who ever lived.
What’s worse, you sit in the lounge all the god damn time and feel the need to call to your friends who are trying to do shit in their rooms. Instead of heaving your lazy ass to go talk, you scream at them until they come to you. Except it’s not screaming. It’s your fucking normal volume.
I have never before heard anyone produce this calibre of evil sound, and pray to god that I never will again. In short, shut the fuck up you screeching harpy.
Oh, and I also pit your bitch friend who plays her music so loud it vibrates my ass and I can hear it in the bathroom, in the shower, and won’t turn it down until the song is over, even when I ask politely, which I always do, meanwhile giving me a case of the throbbing temples.
No, it’s way higher pitched than Fran. You know how some kids sound when they’re cranky and dive into a tantrum, their voices just get higher and higher and louder and louder, until at some point they reach the peak and either give up or the parent smacks them? It’s like that, except it maintains a constant peak-level performance.
It’s enough to make me twitch every time I hear it.
To the guy who cannot resist dribbling his basketball inside:
Since you obviously cannot keep your hands off your subsitute penis, maybe you should take it outside. Lord knows what you would start doing if you actually stopped playing with your precious, precious ball. You sir, are an obnoxious little pigfucker.
And you! His little friend, his reason for being here in the first place–you live here, you stupid cunt, you know how nonexistent the soundproofing is, did it not occur to you that constant, irregular pounding is just a little annoying?! I’m serious, how stupid do you have to be to be so oblivious to your own surroundings?
FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU ALL! May you suffer migraines until you commit suicide from the pain!!
Ugh, I know what you mean. Yesterday I my entire commute home (about an hour) was filled with people who wouldn’t shut the fuck up. First, on the subway, there were three or four kids communicating with each other at what they apparently thought was a reasonable pitch and volume. I had no trouble hearing every goddman screech and shout although I was at the opposite end of the crowded subway train. Obnoxious and rude, and their parents should’ve taught them better. Then, on the bus home, there’s a Really Obnoxious Voice Woman. She and I share a bus occasionally, and it’s always miserable. Her voice is loud, high-pitched and tight, and she is compelled to talk constantly to whoever is nearby, whether or not anyone is interested. The height of the commute, though, was when Really Obnoxious Voice Woman started complaining to the person next to her about the obnoxious kids on the subway! In her screeching voice she was bitching about how loud and noisy and annoying and rude the kids were! The irony nearly killed me.
Good lord, you’re trapped in my nightmare. A bunch of noisy, inconsiderate idiots. My condolences.
Not sure how much you care about their opinion, but have you considered having some fun with them? Just do something incredibly rude and humiliating to them. Walk up behind harpy-voice, run your fingers down a small chalkboard, and announce to the room “Now which of those two sounds was the most irritating? C’mon, be honest!” Go up to basketball boy and ask how his psych experiment “Repetitious Noises as the Root Cause of Psychosis and Inevitable Murderous Behaviour in Pponges” is going.
I do feel your pain. Apparently, the morons who pick up the teenagers next door every morning think it’s completely acceptable to lay on the horn for two minutes straight at SEVEN TEN IN THE MORNING. Unfortunately, we live in an older city house where the houses are so close together that we can hear their conversations when they get in their car every morning, so we’re treated to “Jennifer! GET YOUR STUFF! You’re going to miss the bus! JENNIFER!”. I don’t even get up until 7:45/8:00 (work doesn’t start until 8:30, and it’s a fast commute), so they’re usually interrupting my sleep.
I’m going to start walking their driveway with my crying baby in another six months at 2 AM. See how they like it.
“Bar voice”, that’s a good term. Our neighbor has a bar voice. If ever an errand takes him in front of his house (which is an attached home to ours, so he’s almost under our bedroom windows), he’ll carry on a conversation with his wife or kids in a volume calculated to be heard a couple of blocks down. And this is regardless of the time of day or night - 11 at night, 5 in the morning, the world is all one big bar to him.
I hate noise. I hate people that make noise. But mostly it’s the noise. People rank far lower than noise on my scale of Hate.
Ferinstance, when I was but a wee tad of 20 or so, my neighbor’s driveway was effectively beneath my bedroom window. This isn’t too bad in and of itself, but FUCKO down there had a very poorly maintained turbo diesel Mercedes of dubious ancestry and vintage. He would start it at 445 in the morning and then let it IDLE for 2 hours. Just sitting there.
Now, if you’re not familiar with the turbo diesel Mercedes, let me describe the sounds as being similar to listening to a crowd of androids gargling whatever androids would gargle. Through a large amplified. With flange and phase-shifting.
Now, I can understand that diesels can be cantankerous, particularly in cold climates and a little idling might be in order… BUT THIS WAS IN HAWAI`I. Not. Cold. I was disuaded by my roommate at the time from going and talk to them through various means, mostly because I think she found it amusing that it woke me up. She was a little… Odd.
Yeah, that’s another trick of my bar voice neighbor. He had the World’s Biggest SUV and would leave it idling at 5 a.m. under our bedroom windows every day. That is, until someone hideously vandalized it. You see, there are two or three families living in this home attached to ours, and as a result the home had eight or ten vehicles belonging to it. Their garage is full of crap, and no parking is allowed on our streets overnight, per our HOA rules. So they had to park the World’s Biggest SUV a couple of blocks away in another neighborhood, and some rival gang members slashed its tires and spray painted black enamel gang graffiti all over it. It was towed away shortly thereafter and we haven’t seen it since. We’re broken-hearted.
