The fella next door and the girlfriend/wife/hooker/whatever she is that semi-lives with him both apparently feel the need to speak to each other in near shouts, despite their room being only slightly larger than the bathroom. And they always seem to do this at the best possible times; you know, like 3am, or whenever you're already irritable and are trying to study for a test in one class and do homework in yet another while trying to mentally block out the pain racing up and down your spine.
Man, what I wouldn't give for nice, quiet, intellectual roomates that were fun as hell to talk to, like Adam and Ben. That or some beer. =P