An open letter to my landlord

Dear Mrs. Hong,

First off I want to say that you are a very, very sweet old woman and I can tell, you always mean well. I don’t mind that the only two words you speak in English are “nice day”, and your son’s name, “Thomas”. I think it’s cute and you always have a huge smile on your face. With that said there are a few things I would like to address.

First off, I would like to address a little game you play every night at exactly 11:15 p.m. Now I am not sure what the official title of this game is but I have started to call it “Furniture Tetris”. I really don’t think it is absolutely necessary to rearrange EVERY SINGLE PIECE OF FURNITURE IN YOUR APARTMENT every single night of the week. Considering the fact that your living room is directly above our bedroom, I have often feared that your 3 ton grand piano which you apparently own, will fall directly on my wife and I as we are watching the bonus features of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

You keep a very clean apartment building and I give kudos to you for that. But the eerie children’s shoe that could easily be a hundred years old that you use as a makeshift door stopper in the laundry room is just the creepiest fucking thing in the world. Seriously, I imagine that that child was horribly maimed in a washing machine accident and haunts our building late at night coughing up phlegm. Oh wait, that’s just you. Once is ok. Twice is still fine. But after and hour and a half of you hucking loogies, I want to shove my head in an elephants ass, as they are very quiet creatures and I imagine their rectal cavity follows suit.

However you are a slave to consistency. I can always count that when I am literally about to fall asleep, you and your son will get in the loudest argument possible.

Every time.

Without fail.

I like to call it the “Ruble in the Jungle”. And by “Jungle”, I mean the hallway. And by “Rumble”, I mean yell at each other in Cantonese.

With that said, I would like to humbly thank you for over charging our rent and not letting us park in the completely empty, totally unused, three car garage.

Sincerely,

Joel Dovev Apartment #1

P.S. I know my wife has long hair, and ironically so does she. You don’t need to point it out every time we see one another. Just FYI.