I Love Construction

The apartment beneath ours is being renovated by the loudest, most knuckleheaded guys I've yet to come across in Brooklyn. Since the drop ceiling has been removed there is nothing to muffle their conversations, which usually sound like this:

"Hey! Would ya hand me the fuckin' thing? The thing! The thing!"

"Keep yer panties on!"

"Hey, Joe- you ever blow bubbles when you were a kid?"

"What?"

"You ever blow bubbles when you were a kid?"

"What?"

"You fuckin' nimrod! DID YOU EVER BLOW BUBBLES WHEN YOU WAS A KID?"

"I never blew nothin. What're you lookin' at?"

This is all at the top of their lungs and punctuated with drilling, hammering, and sawing which makes it next to impossible for me to work at home. Hey, it's got to be done, right? I just wish I didn't have to work through it. Although, my personal favorite happened yesterday when I heard this:

"Did you see that fuckin' rack on her?"

"Oh, hell yeah"

At this point, I pulled up the loose floor board in my son's closet and stuck my head down and yelled,

"Yeah, they don't make tits like that for free anymore!"

The rest of the day was pretty quiet after that.