An open letter to the sexually active residents of the apartment above mine:
First, I would like to applaud your stamina. You are obviously both decathletes. Or at least close friends of Sting. Either way, your endurance has not gone unnoticed. I commend you.
Second, it’s about time you took another look at your Ten Commandments. Last night you took the Lord’s name in vain a total of 67 and a half times. I’m assuming here that the last “Oh Gaaaawww-” was intended to be another “Oh God” and not “Oh golly” or “Oh, got to remember to buy milk tomorrow” or “Oh, Gottwald and Mendenhall’s revolutionary hypothesis explaining Israel’s entry into the land of Canaan falls short in its attempt to harmonize the apparent contradiction between the text of Joshua and the dramatic population increase that took place in the Iron 1 period…big daddy.”
Thirdly, go out and buy some WD40. Last night it sounded like the Tin Man was doing the twist. Give society’s more conventional use for lubrication a try.
Finally, make sure that you’re using protection. I recommend some sort of kevlar carpeting. Because next time I’m woken up at three in the morning by the sounds of nature hour I will reach into my cabinet and pull out my recent acquisition from the shooting range. That’s right: my foam earplugs.
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