Hi neighbors. It's time we got to know one another. I live in your building. You have loud sex. Sometimes.
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I have to hand it to you, if it's a Friday or Saturday night, maybe you've got some booze in you or maybe you just like to hang loose, but you put on quite a show. Seriously. I could sell tickets, or at least open a 900 number. Especially you, madam. You take the cake. I've had people over, and we've tried to "retaliate," but I just don't think I've ever come up with anything as good as what you two do.
But on Sunday and Saturday mornings, well, things are different. I understand sometimes you like to be tender, but the volume just isn't there. The show just isn't the same.
Now, I know I have no right to be entertained by your copulation, but here's the thing: Whether or not you're going at it full blast, yelling "oh YES!" at the top of your lungs, your bed still makes that THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP noise we've all come to love. And that, kids, that wakes me up.
So I feel that if you're going to get me out of bed early on a Sunday, the least you could do is make it worth my while. It doesn't have to be Debbie Does Dallas, but at least toss in some moaning and groaning. Something to bring a smile to my face.
And while you're at it, you might want to try doing it for more than five minutes.
this is in or around Philadelphia