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My real point is this. I lived in some apartments on the north east side of Chicago. Every one there had a problem with some one else. The big amazon woman in the high heals the cross dressing couple the kids at the play ground the newly weds who could hardly not make out the old man that talked loud the mexican guys who grilled on the balcony the fat slut who had guys over all the time the guy who took his tuba with him a couple of times a week the old lady who stood outside and hailed anyone who would listen to her the children running about the ugly car the guy who sat in his window sill and blew bubbles the teen girls who sang a trio every where they went. Most of the people in that place never stop bitchin about those people. Should they have stopped? I didn't think so then and don't think so now.


Wait a minute...I lived there, too. What apartment number?