Tuesday, April 16, 2002
It's almost midnight. The guys downstairs have been getting drunk, arguing and playing music so loud I can feel the bass coming up through the floor, up my chair, through the cushions and into my butt.
I tolerated it through the movie, I went outside and yelled down to them during an ad break in The West Wing but even then I could block it out with the show and ironing to distract me, now I want to go to sleep; if they're still going at midnight I'm calling the cops.
Didn't think I'd be that guy, the party-pooper, the 'turn the music down or I'm calling the cops' guy so soon...
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