askally

An Open Letter to the Arseholes Living Across the Way…

In Advice, Life, People, Social Commentary on September 23, 2009 at 1:03 am

To the individuals currently living across from me,

You will excuse me, I hope, if I come across as rude. You see, you have kept me awake for TWELVE CONSECUTIVE NIGHTS with your drunken inanity and a distinct lack of sleep has made me somewhat short of temper. Indeed, I fear that another drunken shriek may push me over the edge into the realm of the downright cantankerous.

Ah, you must be the fellow who threw a kegger in the flat directly across from my building last night.

Ah, you must be the fellow who threw a kegger in the flat directly across from my building last night.

I have racked my brains for a way to get through to you: super-soakers, oversized banners with suspect spelling hung from the window, passive aggressive Morse code communiques, axe murder, the “Rants and Raves” section of the Edinburgh Craigslist, in-between a posting of love for Susan Boyle and a warning about the doom facing our children which I strongly suspect carries a heavy xenophobic bent.

However, as per usual, this is the channel through which I shall express myself, fully aware that in the next 30 days not one of you shall have read it, and you all shall have continued in your aggressive acts of disrespect, while I will long since have taken refuge in my newest recreational hobby of day-dreaming about smashing your personal belongings.

I understand that, as first-year undergraduates, you feel entitled to revel in the new-found freedom that your parents’ money/governmental loan/trust fund has bought you. Never mind the rights or interests of your fellow Freshers: you totally deserve to make the most of this opportunity, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a total pansy. You have finally struck out on your own, released from the shackles of your totally oppressive backgrounds, and nestled yourself deep in the heart of 21st century Bohemia – sheltered, expensive, University-provided undergraduate accommodation.

I understand that this is the first time that you’ve met people who really get you, who judge you on the things that really matter. Things like what music you listen to, how many witty t-shirts you own, how many times you’ve seen Fight Club, and which generic pseudo-subversive band/movie/half-naked member of the opposite sex/beer-and-misogynist-slogan posters you have chosen to display in an attempt to cover up the bland, empty reality of your residence bedroom.

And I understand that, in the event of such freedom and true and pithy friendships, you feel it is your right to get pissed and hang out of the windows screaming nonsense, singing “Teenage Dirtbag” (who the hell listens to Wheatus?), and causing damage to local property.

"Hey, do you know if they sell beer in this place? Or is it only, like, books and shit?"

"Hey, do you know if they sell beer in this place? Or is it only, like, books and stuff?"

But I appeal to the sober side of you: the side you embrace as you skip over incomprehensible passages of psychoanalytical or deconstructivist theory in Bean Scene while shaking back your messy, indie-cool side part with that nonchalance you’ve practised in the mirror. The side you pull out of your closet and put on with your skinny jeans and your brightly coloured H&M pashmina scarf, perfectly askew.** I appeal to this side of you, because in about 5 years you are going to look back and wish that you had focused on something other than your coif and the bottom of your next bottle of Fosters.

That’s when those crippling student loans start edging towards you, carrying their heavy chains of interest payments; your parents’ investments crumble in the latest stock-market crash; you are forced to leave the uterine protection of the University life for a reality with bills and debt and unemployment and rejection and the sudden realisation that your liberal arts degree leaves you about as qualified as a monkey that has just shat itself… it’s true, I’ve lost many a job to poop-covered simians… And as a result, that’s when you will probably wish that you hadn’t spent all your time partying until you vomited into the laundry basket because you mistook it for the toilet. You will probably wish that, like most of your classmates, you actually went to lectures, participated in tutorials, and handed in assignments.

University: a totally great way to piss away £6000

Awesome party, d00ds! It's not like you're pissing away an opportunity to better yourself or anything.

To be honest, I don’t particularly care whether you do or do not regret wasting your university education. But you have been disrupting my sleep schedule and, by proxy, my life, for far too long. And I am about 92% sure that you’ve probably been doing the same to those poor souls amongst your residence hall who appreciate the opportunity that they’ve been offered in attending of the best universities in the UK.

You know, the ones who actually came here because were interested in learning and cultivating skills that will help them in the future: the ability to think critically, to question, to analyse, to write using syntax, grammar, spelling, and punctuation at an adult level… I know that these intelligent and mature individuals exist: I’ve met them (I was them, and I cursed my partying classmates even then. To the “them’s” I say: don’t worry. It gets better. Unless you move next door to a first-year residence).

So for their sake, and mine, I’m not waiting until your first round of essays comes back and the fear of academic probation cuts your partying down from 6 nights a week to 5. No, I am going to take drastic action here, people.

"Oh my god, I can't believe she posted that on Facebook! That is totally unfair. What a bitch! Why are people shushing me? If you want silence, what are you doing in a university library?"

"Oh my god, I can't believe she posted that on Facebook! Why are people shushing me? If you want silence, what are you doing in a university library?"

That’s right: I am lodging a noise complaint with the proper authorities. I’ve had enough. I withstood your moving-day dalliances, I kept my cool during the Fresher’s Week frenzy, I endured your post-Induction week hootenannies, I even bore your pre-first-class University holiday shindig! But no more: this ends NOW… Or, more accurately: SOON. Perhaps in 3 – 14 days when the Residence Coordinator responds to my complaint. Or, more likely, in 2 – 4 weeks when, after several complaints, I am forced to call the police. Or, even more likely, in 5 – 7 weeks when, after several police visits and Residence Coordinator sanctioned warnings of noise violations, you all quiet down on your own because papers are due. Oh yes, my vengeance will be as terrible as it is swift…

**Note: I have to admit, as much as I’ve never been a douchebag partier, I have developed an addiction to psychoanalytical theory, indie side-parts, and pashmina scarves. I pray to the gods of Nerdism and ask them for forgiveness. End note.**

Advertisements
  1. Hahaha Ally this is great! I agree that first years can be so obnoxious, this year the froshies were BAD like worse than my year and worse than last year…its annoying how it gets worse every year eh? I hope you get this straightened out and get some sleep soon!! Miss you!

  2. 1. i listened to Wheatus and i secretly love Teenage Dirtbag
    2. i think that your neighbours and my neighbours are the same people.
    3. and we DID party, you just don’t remember… and it was usually at the bar.
    4. i love you!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: