dmb

dmb
Originally uploaded by fluffmuppet.

My landlord is 80 something, her daughter 40 something lives in the basement most of the time. Her daughter is a bit of a train wreck, in a civilized controlled way, this I figured out when she tried to give me a nugget of nose candy because I did her a favour. I dubbed a copy of 'All That Jazz' for her one day... She must really dig that movie I guess.
Anyway, that's not the issue, I don't care about what people shove in their orifices, it really is cool with me. What I do care about is her weird habit of playing one particular Dave Mathews song , over and over and over and fucking over, 12am through to 2am is her DMB party time.
Everytime I hear that 3 minute friggin' drum solo rise up from the basement an assault me, well, I find myself considering violence. Unfortunately I have no passive aggressive route to travel, nope, I am doomed to be the victim until the cocaine she snorted wears off and she passes out amongst the beer bottles, small mirrors and straws.
I have never cared for the DMB, hearing him/them, makes me want to neck myself at the best of times, alas my current circumstances have compounded my mediocre dislike to full blown, gut wrenching, hair pulling, teeth grinding repulsion.
Yes Mr Mathews, if I ever see you on the streets of Manhattan I think I may have to take it all out on you personally, afterall, she is my landlords daughter, but you... You are ripe for the slapping.