Things You Wanted To Say, But Didn’t

For my Cynical Space this week, I want to address the paper-thin thickness of the walls in the dorms. There are 47 reasons why the walls need to be thicker, but I will only name a few.

Since coming to UVM, I have heard more people having sex in the rooms above, below and next door to me than I will ever need to hear to satisfy any craving I might have to hear “sex noises” for the rest of my life! I do not even have to buy porn! (Not that I ever did…purely hypothetical).

For some reason, these “sex people” next door are not the “let’s have quiet and sensual sex” types. No, no, no! They are the “bed-banging, loud screaming, wild animal sex” types. Why me? And of course just when I think they are done and I close my eyes to go to sleep with a huge sigh of relief, it is all in vain- they are back at it again for another 45 minutes. Where does this kid get his stamina?

I think he should put up bumpers around his bed or something. I could probably drown out the “yelping” (for some reason, it sounds like seals barking…I don’t want to know, either) with music, but their bed is banging against the wall so hard that MY wall and bed are shaking violently, too! I almost feel like a third party in the action.

I think the solution is for UVM to make soundproof “sex rooms.” I mean, we have the study lounge and the music practice room…why not the sex lounge? No, seriously, this would work great! There could be a sign-up sheet outside the door and people could just sign up for an hour or two (this is solely a bring-your-own-sheets kind of deal). This way, if people actually WANT to hear people having sex, they could go rent porn instead (that is, of course, if they did that sort of thing…purely hypothetical). I think I have really hit on something here. Someone should pitch this to the SGA.

The second reason that the walls need to be thicker is “8 AM Karaoke” (compliments of the girl living on the other side of my room). Let me explain: Imagine me, sleeping in on an early Saturday morning, recovering from my night as a lush. All of a sudden I am woken up by the most awful sing-along voice that I have ever heard. “You make me feel, you make me feel, you make me feel like a natural woooomuuuuun!!” That’s great! You make ME feel like shoving that shampoo bottle that you’re singing into up your a**! Because God knows that you did not go out the night before for a night on the town with Mary Jane and Jose. Oh no! She stayed in, did some extra physics problems to get ahead, watched the thriller on Lifetime for Women and went to bed at an even 9 PM. Now she is chipper as a lark at 8 AM and consequently belting her brains out to Aretha. The most god-awful part is that she puts the damn song on replay. How many times can you listen to that song before you want to burn your bras and join a feminist movement?

This is what my life has amounted to. I can’t get to sleep until three in the morning because somehow I have been “sexiled” and I certainly can’t sleep in past the a**crack of dawn because I live next to a freaking songbird. Someone light a candle for me.