I met my next-door neighbor in the elevator yesterday. I'll translate as we go along.
NEIGHBOR (after finding out which apartment is mine): Oh, so you're the one with all the good music? The jazz? the showtunes?
[TRANSLATION: So you're the faggot who wakes me up in the middle of the night with your 3 AM No, No, Nanette singalongs?]
Z: Oh, dear.
[TRANSLATION: Yes, I am a faggot.]
Z, cont.: Can you really hear all that?
[TRANSLATION: So what you're telling me is that when I'm singing along with my CD player at the top of my voice, you can hear everything? I'm in there washing that man right outta my hair or defying gravity or climbing ev'ry mountain, and you can hear it all?]
N: Only from the hallway.
[TRANSLATION: The entire floor can hear your carrying-on; we stand outside your door and laugh our asses off.]
Z: I'm so sorry; I'll try and keep it down.
[TRANSLATION: You didn't mention what you thought of my rousing rendition of "I Enjoy Being a Girl."]
N: Don't worry about it.
[TRANSLATION: We can also hear the porn.]
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