Dear Guy on the Roof:

I’m sorry if our trying to sleep (in the apartment just below where you are hanging out on the roof with your date at 2 a.m.) is intruding on your privacy, but I can’t help but overhear every word you are saying in full voice (as well as the clomping of your footsteps on the gravel rooftop and the banging of the roof door that woke me).

Because I am a captive audience (if I cover my head with a pillow you sound like the trombone-voiced grown-ups in the Charlie Brown specials — even more annoying than hearing your voice), I can’t help but offer a critique on your technique.

A few items:

1.  Your rap about having a screenplay that your agent is this close to getting greenlighted by the studio. Seriously? Do women still fall for that line? Give it a rest.

2. Telling your date that if it were a clearer night, you could point out all the constellations to her. A couple of things here. First, this is LA. It’s never clear enough to see a sky full of stars. And second, there are no constellations named Sleepy, Sneezy and Bashful. The fact that your date believes you makes her Dopey. The whole thing makes me Grumpy.

3. Your topics. Here are some things I don’t want to hear you pontificate about — sex, your ex, your pecs. Zip it.

4. Your socializing on the roof in the middle of a work night. This is a roof, not a Starbucks. It is unlit, unpaved and unbelievably crowded with air conditioner units and satellite dishes. It is not the Empire State Building observation deck. You are not Cary Grant or Tom Hanks. I, however, am sleepless in LA — with an early-morning deadline.

5. Your singing. I’m sorry, but again with the “nots.” You are not John Mayer. You are not Jason Mraz. You are not Jim Morrison (don’t even think about asking me who he is). What you are is Just Mediocre. Save it for karaoke night. Inside a bar.

6. Your stomping around up there. There are only three times I want to hear any kind of action on the roof — a) if Tom Cruise is shooting the latest MI there; b) if Harrison Ford is filming anything there; c) if a fat, jolly man in a red suit with a bunch of reindeer has landed there. (And if you are that last guy, a pair of noise-cancelling headphones would make a great holiday gift — thanks.)

Speaking (quietly) of the holidays, I’ve got two words for you. Silent night.

© 2013 Claudia Grossman