They made their way up to the roof of my building. Where after clamoring around for some time was introduced to a few more of my neighbors, who had some similar beddy bye issues. Maintenance had also just put down some new roofing material which we pushed holes in with our shoes, and annoited with beer and cigarette butts.

Then after convincing them all to move the party to my crib, and fighting a constant battle of stereophonic volume control, homey had to go and spew three times in the hallway. Of course I only had one square of paper towels left. Sacrificed a towel to the god of chunder. At least it wasn't chunky. I think he was employing a liquid diet that day.

The all important money making back breaking heart taking question is: am I at all concerned with what my neighbors think of me? Seeing as I add a verse to the "I hate my neighbors" song being composed in my head every day that one of the fuckers disturbs my peace or sleep, the answer is a humongous vibrant and shiny no. I imagine that song with a Weezeresque type beat by the way. I don't think its cool to awash the halls with heave, or conduct a drum jam on other people's doors. I'd be a sour cuss too if I was on the receiving end. But fuck em, gives them something to gripe about over their cornflakes the next day.

My main regret was that there wasn't nearly enough random acts of pussy last night. Wouldn't even mention trivialities such as rustling people from their beds if there was random acts of pussy going on. Get your fucking priorities straight people.