we have russian neighbours. we have loud russian neighbours. we have loud and obnoxious russian neighbours. getting the drift? every weekend from midnight to 6am, there is yelling, maniacal laughter, smoke, pot smoke, coughing, loud discussions, arguments, mid-sentence projectile vomiting (that impressed the hell out of me, considering that the guy in question went on with his diatribe as if nothing could stem the flow of words, as if the flow of vomit had been merely a comma, an emphatic semicolon perhaps, in the flow of his ideas.) right out on the balcony.
so, basically i hate them. and, because of the type of person that i am,* the only reason i hadn't yet called the cops on them is because i did not know for sure which suite they lived in. now i know.
lack of sleep, wine consumption, extreme heat, and using some of my ill-gotten oil money to buy art from starving artists, thereby assuaging the guilt of living here and making the aforementioned dirty dirty dough, were on the menu this weekend. coming back north sucked. i am this close to grabbing mister monkey by the collar, tossing him (gagged and bound, for verisimilitude. and for fun.) into the back of our little car and skedaddling the hell out of here.
somebody! buy our condo! cheap! free russian cultural exchange! free marijuana smoke every friday!
*the type that is willing to take stupid risks and yell at big scary people when woken up rudely in the middle of the night. that type.