Bruh…

If you have the nerve to body slam your walls to get your next door neighbors to stfu and throw what I assume are medicine balls at the ceiling over my TV volume being 12/100, OR me spending an accumulated 2-3 minutes tapping my toothbrush, razor or makeup brush on the sink through the day… oh, and go ham on my ceiling when I ring out my hair in the shower -

Then you have no right nor pull to demand I walk quieter, have a bedtime curfew, turn my music down, stop vacuuming at 1pm during your nappy time, or turn off my speaker phone when I’m talking.

And every. Single. Time. You tap or touch your ceiling with your broom, I will dig my heels so hard into the ground you’ll think I’m the second coming of Christ making my grand debut. I’ll even put on some mariachi music and do a little dance for you, my treat.

You get what you get (which is normal living noises) OR you get what you give.

Eat my butt you fucking turd.

And yes, that made me feel better.