Lust Song Syndrome

AAAARGH!!! The building opposite the apartment is really driving me craaazy!! Every night, every blasted single night (from dusk 'til dawn), it plays that infernal racket called, "Itsumo" over and over again. It has probably played it for more than 10 times just this night. My ears are already hemorrhaging from listening to that long-winded pseudo-japanese drivel (whose Niponggo lyrics don't mean one single coherent sentence). And Itsumo is now stucked in my amygdala. I think the song is beginning to transform from "Itsumo" to "Isubo" quickly. My mind is racing to erase the picture of sweaty gyrating, long-haired, spaghetti-strapped morenas bobbing their heads up and down to the beat of the music while their balding, rancid-smelling, pot-bellied British "friend" sport this twisted look as if he had reached the pinnacle of his miserable existence after tasting the Ambrosia of Aphrodite. Ooops. Perish the thought.


Curse this damn boom-boom room!

Unfortunately, my area overlooks that garish establishment so even when I close every last possible space, their slutty songs reverberate through the concrete walls. Damn that law which says that sound travels faster through solid medium. You must have wondered how I sleep at night- involuntary desensitization of noxious aural stimulus.

That cursed God-forsaken place is a pick-up bar called (censored). Try to guess where this rinky-dinky bar is.