Hollywood outfits

I have been at home all of this past week, logging tapes and I think there is either a drug dealer living in the building or a brothel because the traffic going in and out of the apartment across the hall is never-ending. It’s like peak hour out there and there are only 4 apartments! What is going on?

One of the apartments, who we call the DJ’s because they think that’s what they are, should be preparing themselves for an Aleisha ball busting. When we first moved in, upon spying their deck and headphone set up through their window (hey their blinds are always open) we jumped to conclusion about them being noisy…conclusions that were right.

I don’t mind a bit of music, it’s just that they live weird hours and often the beats start at about 5am, just when I am settling into snugly dreams (about plane crashes, visiting celebrity homes and the occasional sexy dream). The worst part is that both Jus and I have avoided confronting them. We just get stroppy. Every weekend we also seem to be walking out our door at the same time as the DJ’s shag of the night,  a random girl does the walk of shame.

Bit of a tool

Now as soon as I moved in I checked these guys out and they are not shag worthy. I am suspicious as to how they score each week. I think it may be Rohypnol because it sure as hell isn’t their charm. Every time I see one of the DJ’s he says;

DJ 1:
Hey, my names Dj 1, I don’t think we’ve met!

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