I'm a little tired and pissed off today, because this morning at oh, about 2:45 or so I was roused from a sound sleep by a group of drunken fucknuts outside my window. I live on what is technically the first floor of my building, but my apartment is actually about 10 feet up from the street level because of the basement that is sort of above ground, if that makes any sense. I don't know--I'm still half asleep.

Anyhoo, when I first awoke I was a bit confused, thinking my alarm had gone off or something and it was time to get up (why else would I be awake?) I glanced at the clock and realized it was a quarter til 3:00, and that's when I heard the drunken voices outside shouting and laughing, and the sound of some dude just repeating over and over "No way, man. No fuckin' way." (Real brainiacs, this crowd). I was like, okay, who are these dickweeds and why are they parked outside my window at this hour? I stumbled out of bed to peek outside saw this group of lamers having a pow-wow on the front stoop--one of them strumming tunelessly on a fucking guitar! Cursing to myself, I started slamming all my windows shut, then flipped on the lights and began searching through the packet of papers from my apartment office. I thought surely there was a number to call for noise complaints or drunken asshole removal or something. I didn't find a damn thing in all the papers, so I called the main office number hoping there'd be info on the recorded message about who to call in situations like these. Sadly, there wasn't a damn thing--just a number for "emergency maintenence." I tossed the papers to the floor in disgust, and realized I could still hear the little fuckers with the windows closed and the fan going. I thought about calling the police, but I didn't know any number besides-- of course--911. At that point I said "fuck it," stuffed my ears with cotton balls, pulled the covers over my head and somehow managed to get back to sleep after about a half hour or so. As I was lying there, I was wishing I had a 7-foot tall African American boyfriend named Icepick I could send out there to kick the shit out of them. Or a hand grenade I could just lightly toss out the window and shut them up permanently. I'm completely unashamed of my murderous thoughts--lying there listening to these primates cackle and strum an out-of-tune guitar at 3:30a.m. would be enough to send Gandhi over the edge.

No fuckin' way, man.