I told that bitch to shut up. Now look what she made me do.
As a not too homely chick from Iowa, with not too braying of a laugh; I can say, that yes, we do really dig bold men. Especially ones with mad writing skillz, hell I’m getting hot just reading about this!! (But seriously, we do not say “anyhoo” that is definitely from Wisonsin, Minnesota or a Dakota.)
It was “anyhoot.”
Whatever, that too. That’s not homely girls in IA - go further north.
For the record, if something goes embarrassingly wrong with this and because I can weave a good enough yarn, I’m just going to fork this story into fiction and never tell anybody when or if I’ve made that transition.
As a service to those following along and expecting satisfaction.
The obvious first date is to invite her down to [del]see your etchings[/del] listen to the mysterious sound.
So as far as we know, we already could have taken that fork, right?
To be honest, I wouldn’t fault someone for suspecting it already. The way this went from me smugly showing off my clever, passive aggressive note to a story of possible romance via parsed language from hand-written notes and smiley faces seems a little contrived. And the quirky side-characters (naked neighbors and orgy-throwing country music listening guy) seem out of place in-context, but serve to develop a sense of setting for the storyline. Me playing along with the pajama-girl jokes would only make it *seem *more authentic.
The probability of fictionhood will top out when it turns out we can’t be together because I get conscripted to fight in an intergalactic space war. That’ll be a good first clue.
I was surprised my references to that thread got no response! 
I think that’s more likely to be a southern word. I’m from Minnesota, have relatives in North Dakota, and live in Wisconsin and have never heard anyhoot. Could also be an upstate NY thing, much like steamed hams.
I guess I was thinking of the lady cop from Fargo. But that was probably also an “anyhoo”. “Anyhoot” doesn’t make sense, I could totally see “anyhoo” but hoot?
ETA: I am almost positive someone I knew from LaCrosse would actually say “anyhoo”, but I could be losing my mind.
I guess it’s possible that she accidentally wrote a vertical line for a next letter after “Anyhoo”, then crossed it out with a single horizontal line, making it look like a “t”.
I’m in Wisconsin and anyhoot has come up occasionally. It’s always been a female that said it.
I’d say a very good chance indeed. You live in a concrete box with glass windows. Do people in white lab coats and scrubs periodically bring you food and pills?
I seem to remember it being “Pyjamas” in the epic thread of no resolution?
1602: (Echoey and remote, like speaking through a can of Pringles) Hello?
1502: Hi, I’m Aaron, and I, uh… think I live below you and —
1602: What?
1502: Uh… I’m Aaron, and I live below you…
1602: You live below me?
1502: Um… is this Marie?
1602: What?
1502: Is this Marie?
1602: … hello?
1502: Oh ffs hangup
I didn’t realize until just now that on the note, she put 2 different phone numbers. One phone number inline of the first paragraph, and at the bottom of the page is a different one. They’re both the same, except the last digit. In the first case, it’s a 2, and in the other, a 6. There is no way that they just look close, they’re completely different numbers (I can tell be cause there are 6s and 2s elsewhere in the number).
I put one of the number in my phone this morning and tried to call it while walking home, and had the above experience. When I compared the number in my phone to the number written down, I made the also-above discovery.
I hope the number I dialed is not her at all, otherwise I may have driven right past my limit of exposure on this one.
Dear Diary
Today someone called Garon called me from some enclosed echo-y hellish well-like space. He said he lived below me. I live on the ground floor. Nothing is below me, just dirt. He wanted to know if I was married. I hope it was a wrong number, and not Elvis’ brother summoning me to be his bride in hell.
Alright, the 1602 storyline ends here, but I still don’t know for sure what the noise is/was.
I called the other number and got voicemail, the message for which identified the phone owner as Marie, and her last name confirmed she’s the one whose picture I saw on the interwebs.
A few minutes later I sent the phone a text identifying myself. We exchanged a few texts, discussing possible noise sources and the arrangement of our apartments, eventually she invited me up and up I went.
As expected, she’s about mid to late thirties (which, to my 23 is probably not the best idea) but perfectly nice and friendly. We talked for about an hour about the building, moving here, furniture, etc. She’s an ESL teacher and an english major, so the note and its references to grammar and language impressed her, but more than anything she (being a quiet type) didn’t want it to be thought that she was responsible for any disturbances.
So, at least now I know somebody in the building who, unless light waves take up a propensity to arcing, I don’t have to worry about inadvertently seeing naked.
She says everyone on her floor is very quiet. I seemed to have just lucked out with 2 neighbors who love music. And being naked.
I didn’t mention the two discrete (cough) phone numbers on the note, but I assume it was just a mistake. I’m sure whoever I called this afternoon now has a mystery of her own.
I’m glad that you finally went up there. I still think she’d like you to be “responsible for some disturbances” with her, if you know what I mean. Let us know if you ever figure out what the noise is.