I'm told THIS is why we have a blog. . .

By now, everyone should know that Sequence has officially moved into its bigger and better digs (we promise we'll stop bragging about it soon).  As with a lot of things in life, the honeymoon period of something new and exciting expires pretty quickly - and the details of reality slowly start to appear.  If you missed it earlier this week, Adam so poignantly described the devastation of no internet--first world problems for sure.   Aside from our WiFi issues (since fixed!), the incessant construction across the street and the overworking radiators, we've just recently encountered our latest gripe...our neighbors.

Not just any NORMAL neighbors (i.e. law office, ad agency, dental practice, etc) ... but, a RECORDING STUDIO. Picture it with me: a bass pumping, beat throwing, entourage gathering, pop singing, party throwing, recording studio. We tried to look on the bright side (for all of 24 hours): Maybe we could record a Sequence jingle? Help produce their album release events? At the very least - brush up on our freestyle skills?

Nope.  After Dana's coffee bounced off her desk and the American Idol hopeful next door hit an excruciatingly high note -- we filed a complaint.  And we felt good about it.  Are they SERIOUS!? This is an office building - we have clients and work to do- we'll show them!

And then, as my life would have it - when I left the office last night, THIS ironically happened:

Me: (waiting for elevator in hallway)

Recording Studio Guy #1: (with cell phone in one ear) Hey - you here to record a track?

Me: Who, me? No - my office is around the corner- I'm just heading home.

(elevator door opens - in walks a massive entourage)

Recording Studio Guy #2:  Oh yeah? Where do you work?

Me:  Sequence Events

Entourage Guy #1 (starts to sing to me with some appropriately customized lyrics): SEQ-UINS -- she wearin' blue pants, has blonde hair --and SEQUINS!

(*Editors Note: We're SEQUENCE as in, the "sequence of events" not SEQUINS like the outfit of a Vegas showgirl)

Entourage Guy #2: Hey, you sure you don't want to stick around and throw down a few beats?

Me: (seething with sarcasm) Nah, that's ok- I've heard enough of what you "throw down" all day -- I feel like I'm apart of it already!

It's at this moment that I'm trying to squeeze my way through to the open elevator door ... the peer pressure was unreal.  Suddenly, it's as if a record came to a screeching halt because in the middle of the entourage stood a familiar face. I took a double take.  It was Alicia Keys.

Alicia (flippin) Keys: (she laughs) Well, at least you can say you get a taste of real, raw NYC hip-hop- for FREE!

Me: (awkward, shocked, silent)

Like in the movies, the world stopped turning. My face went red. The elevator door was closing. This was my CHANCE! Quick-don't just stand there- say something!

Me:  (blurts - practically shouts out) YEAH- I mean.. I LOVE HIP-HOP!

(Elevator door shuts- I slap my forehead)

*Inner monologue: Stupid. So, so stupid. You LOVE hip-hop?  Could you have sounded anymore ridiculous? 

Moral of the story: Don't take real and raw hip-hop for granted ... Just kidding-- the real moral is to take a little time to get to know your neighbors...and learn to appreciate their unintentional lessons in modern hip-hop when they pump this through their shared air vents: