Drunk Girl.

Top Ten--or However Many I Feel Like Coming Up With--Reasons Why Yuppie Apartment Living Sucks

10. Waking up to 4 a.m. sex. (I mean, other peoples' 4 a.m. sex that you have no part in other than feeling like you're stuck in some unwanted, hellish pornographic auditory halluncination a la A Beautiful Mind. Or, as I wrote a friend, "I think it was sex. That, or someone was crucifying a squirrel to their headboard.")

9. Drunk Girl coming home, well, drunk, with friend(s), stumbling up three flights of concrete stairs, giggling and yelling, followed by more drunking clunking around upstairs once in her apartment, followed by the inevitable see # 10 above.

8. Music Drummer Guy, who decides steel trap practice should commence on the exact weekend you work a night shift, because hey man, like dude, chill out and have a joint, I gotta practice, you never know when American Idol might be doing a Southeastern cattle call. It's my art, you know? Hey, I'm sexy, and you're a girl... you wanna do it?

7. Stupid Girl (who also happens to be Drunk Girl) and her music selection, which is compromised exclusively of shitty Top Forty (Beyonce! InSynch! Britney Spears! Paris Hilton Sex Tapes as discussed by Howard Stern!) and somehow gets filtered through your bathroom air conditioning vent at 8 a.m. in the morning.

6. Other people's dog shit. It's called a curb and leash law, people. Give a hoot, don't pollute!

5. Stupid Drunk Girl continuing to stomp around upstairs. Fucking pass out already! Didn't anyone spike your amaretto sour with a roofie at that singles bar or frat party you just went to?!

4. People who write, in soap, SENIORS RULE 4EVA, on their car windows and have their highschool mortarboard tassels hanging from their rearview mirror clearly aren't old enough to be renting luxury apartments on their own. (Mommy and Daddy shouldn't sign the lease for them, either.)

3. Drinking, drugs and one night stands. It was called highschool and college. Note the past tense. Underscore it, if need be.

2. When I sit out in my lanai, which is supposed to be all nice and quiet, I don't need to listen to your endless, stupid ass cell phone conversation in which you whine in a bubble-headed cadence to your Lindsey Lohan clone girlfriend(s) on three way speaker phone: "I don't know. He let me pick the flavor of condom before we did it--do you think this means we're like, exclusive?" and I certainly don't need to up my risk of contracting lung CA by inhaling your nasty cigarette smoke on my porch. Keep your cancer-causing carcinogens and general intellectual vapidity over on your own rental property, please!

1. It's just not community building to tell your neighbor(s), "Get a job, get a life, and get the fuck out of my face, bitch!"