November 28, 2007

One pleasant Sunday afternoon, while stewing in the heat and recovering from a hangover, my next-door neighbour cocked open her window and turned Plain White Tees’ Hey There Delilah way up. Because I am a kind and fair person, cursing did not immediately ensue as a) I can absolutely understand the innate desire to crank music when the mercury rises and b) that part where the cute singer dude wails “oooh its what you do to me”- its nice, you know?

But when my neighbour proceeded to place the song on repeat for 4 HOURS, my tolerance fell a little short. The bassline shuddered its way through my bedroom wall again and again and I started to REVEL in the fact that the songwriter was reportedly turned down by the object of his affections after writing the chart-topper for her. HHAAARRRR TAKE THAT YOU WHINEY SACK OF SHIT!

What on Earth possesses people to place songs on repeat like that? In addition, is it technically considered a genetic defect when people display that little self –awareness? Is there a fund that we might donate money to? I wondered how many shades of beyotch I would appear to be if I were to knock on her door and request- not that she turn it down- but there she merely change the damn song.

When my lack of testicular fortitude dictated that it wasn’t the most fun course of action, I merely embarked on my own musical battle, placing Dillenger Escape Plan’s Ire Works on high and prayed it might make her stop if it didn’t decimate the foundations of her house first. And just like that, Plain White Tees died a quiet death and I watched with delight and a no small amount of guilt when the occupants of the house up and left to escape that inconsiderate bitch next door.