Scaredy and the Rants

As far as neighbors are concerned, I got stuck with shit heads.

First, I have to say the whole apartment building smells like Bruce Vilanch's crusty asshole, but my floor is especially bad. As soon as I enter the elevator the abhorrent funk overwhelms me. I ask myself "Did someone shit in here? Seriously, did someone take a big dump in the elevator?" It only gets worse as it ascends to the fifth floor, the probable source of the stench, and where I live.

It was bad when I first moved in but it seems to have only gotten worse. Now you can actually taste how bad the smell is. This horrific odor comes from the pets, which apparently reside with owners who dont know how to double bag cat litter or... live hygienically.

I live at the end of the hall positioned in the middle of where three apartments meet. My neighbor to the right is in her early thirties, never goes out, never has friends over- you know, the type that cuts her own hair. then cries. then eats stale chocolate. then cries again. I have named her Scaredy because she is petrified of meeting me face to face and I have no idea why. She usually waits a minimum of five seconds upon me entering my apartment until she leaves hers. Once, we left our rooms around the same time, and without exaggerating, I opened my door to see a glimpse of her sprinting down the hall and out of sight.

My neighbors to the left are a lesbian couple. One is black and the other is hispanic, so I have accordingly named them ChocoTaco. ChocoTaco fights occur about twice a night and nothing is more brutal. They throw things against the wall, slam doors and yell over each other in different languages. I have heard baffling phrases like "you think you gonna get some strange now, bitch?" and "you betta hold up on the peng leng." But nothing compares to the time I heard Choco call Taco a "salad face."

I dont know what the fuck a salad face is, but its sounds degrading and I will be using it.