A Letter to the Kids Acrross the Hall

Dear Bros who live across from me,

Hello, douchebags.

I respect your right to party, you need not fight for it. I have no problems with loud, raucous fun on Friday or Saturday night. I don't even care about the heaps of party trash outside your door. (So long as you take it to the dumpster first thing in the A.M. Maybe you missed the note from the landlord earlier this week on this exact subject. Really, you people are disgusting leaving you trash in the hall for days on end.)

However, you guys sound like a herd of eight-year-olds hopped up on mountain dew, snorting lines of pixie sticks with all your running around and hollering for hours on end. (And what is the stupid shit you're playing on the radio?)

I have two requests. First, do you think you could start winding down by four or four-thirty? Hell, I don't get home from work until two some nights, but even I think you guys need to wrap it up. Second, keep your shenanigans in your apartment. I don't need to hear boyfriend/girlfriend fights, two girls threatening to beat some skinny guy's ass, or the occasional random comment "OH, I shouldn't have taken my medication today" (wtf? "If it wasn't for my horse...") at volumes normally reserved for rock concerts.

Thanks and Happy Hangovers.