Dear Mr. Lives-Next-Door-and-Has-No-Life

Don't you EVER leave your room? Don't you EVER think that maybe the thin wall separating our houses might discourage the constant playing of very loud music?
I admire your ecclectic and wide ranging musical collection (actually, most of it I really don't, but even if you had the biggest collection of ceramic owls, I'd still admire the magnitude, even if I thought you were nuts), however I don't understand your need to play it at such volumes, or for such extended periods of time. Seriously, you need to leave that room. By now it's probably developing a wicked funk, and besides, YOU'RE DRIVING ME INSANE, NOT TO MENTION THE PEOPLE READING THIS BECAUSE I WON'T SHUT UP ABOUT IT.
I realize that the fact that your music drives me to these points of intense frustration denotes the amount of time I spend in MY room. This in no way reflects on the state of my life, but rather points to the fact that I have two 10 page essays due in under 6 days, and I would like to finish them and get back to that life which I have ASAP, and your incessant guitar riffs and subwoofer are making that very difficult, and OH MY GOD FAT BOY SLIM YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.

Irritably,
A