This was what meant I post yesterday, had I not managed to RUIN EVERYTHING by missing a NaBloPoMo entry:

The Stripper moved out a couple months ago, and last month John the Landlord rented her apartment to a couple of guys. They’re in their mid twenties, and virtually indistinguishable from the guys in the Penthouse apartment (they of the Molson Cold Shot of Considerable Damage). We rarely saw them, because they tend to use the back entrance – but this weekend, there was trouble in paradise and we heard all about it.

They fought all the way up the block, stopping on our front steps to scream at each other. From what I gather, they are both motherfuckers who no longer rely upon each other as a bro. Guy 1 was furious at Guy 2, who was trying to salvage the relationship: AM I NOT YOUR BRO? WE’RE BROS! YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN MY BRO! Guy 1 wasn’t having any of this though, and let the entire neighbourhood know about it: YOU’RE NOT MY BRO, BRO. YOU’RE A MOTHERFUCKER! FUCKING SHIT DUDE, NOT MY BRO! This went on for quite some time, with Guy 2 pleading his case: YOU’RE MY BRO, I GO TO BAT FOR YOU, I GIVE YOU CRACK, I COVER YOUR BACK, WE’RE BROS, BRO.

Wait, what?

I GIVE YOU CRACK? This is why they should remain bros?

Oh good god.

Strangely, the reminder that Guy 2 has shared crack with Guy 1 did little to patch the bromance. They brought the fight indoors, where it turned physical – we could hear the thumps and the walls shook (the wall in the entryway has a huge hole in it where someone kicked it in) and doors slammed. It would have then been quiet, if Drunk Bettie didn’t stick her nose in – she started crowing to Admiral Ackbar about the fight, and I think she went downstairs to confront the guys. I don’t know if she did, but she came back up and loudly said something about calling John the Landlord and then somehow got locked out of her apartment in the rain, because Andy couldn’t figure out how to open the door. Good times!

I can’t wait to move.