the night the cops came

We’ve tried talking to the girls downstairs. We’ve called the building manager, and the landlord – multiple times. Tonight it went one step further, and the cops were called.

They started partying around 10:30, warming things up by singing in their car so loudly it could be heard throughout the entire neighbourhood. The party eventually moved inside, and by midnight, showed no signs of stopping. Ed called the cops at my insistence, then went to bed. Me, I stayed up to watch the fireworks.

Their apartment faces the street, and because they were hanging out their window singing along with Beyonce at the top of their lungs, they saw the police pull up. The music immediately went down, and everything stopped. The cops asked them to open the door, and then the act began.

They’d never had a complaint! They never make noise! There was no party; just the roommates! The music isn’t loud – listen, can you hear it? You can’t! They’re just assholes! They love to complain! It’s not fair – no one has ever said anything to them! I can’t believe they called the police! There’s no noise here at all!

Unfortunately for her, I was hanging over the stairs listening and I couldn’t take it any more – I corrected her, reminding her she had turned the music down as soon as the police arrived AND they’d been spoken to multiple times by multiple people about being FUCKING ASSHOLES in the building. A cop came up to talk to me before I could get really angry and start mouthing off, and he said we should just keep calling the police every time they acted like little ignorant shitheads. In the meantime, the girls were flippant and “charming” at the police, and kept repeating that THEY were the victims – we were making up stories because we have “bitter balls”. I don’t know what that means, but apparently we have them and they are bitter. The cops told them to keep it down, asked Josh and I to keep calling the police if they do it again, and that was that. Soon after, the group left the building to smoke on the lawn. I could hear them talking about us. This is going to be awesome. I’ll be calling the landlord tomorrow, and I almost hope they do it again – who needs sleep when your neighbours are this fantastic?

The very best part about all of this? One of the people downstairs is the MOTHER of the Chlamydia Sisters. Seriously, how classy do you have to be to get drunk with your whorish idiot daughters after midnight on a weekday, making so much noise that the police are called? How proud would you be, watching your drunken spawn try to reason with the police by lying right to their faces? I will never know such joy, but I’m afraid to touch the front door in case their brain herpes are contagious.

I fucking hate those idiot bitches and their douchebag boyfriends. I want the street fighting back.

 

4 thoughts on “the night the cops came

  1. They suck. And as much as you want to “be nice” to the landlord and/or building manager, it’s hard to evict someone. I can’t blame them for not wanting to do the work it entails.

    That said, it’s kindof their JOB to deal with people like this, so perhaps calling them in the wee hours, each time you call the cops, will give them the incentive they need to follow-through with dealing with these douche-baguettes.

  2. They MUST be related our our a-hole neighbours somehow- they were outside in the freezing pouring rain partying (read yelling swearing lighting firecrackers-and they are older than me- for real!) last night like it was a warm summer’s evening! The parents are worse than the kids! Definitely call the cops everything single time, it does help. Eventually. I have called a few times on ours and it seems to be working, although they need the process repeated a few times to get it thru their dense skulls. They’re so stupid they seem to forget after a couple of weeks.
    Fingers crossed everything goes well with your new place & you can move away from them!

Leave a reply to cynthia Cancel reply