This is Too Much for me to Handle
The pain is unbearable. If you took the amount of raw stupidity in my apartment at this very moment, and physically manifested it, it would be the size of texas and denser than a neutron star. I was forced to listen to an ex-couple bitch at each other for just over an hour, and had I not been driving at the time, Mike and Lisa would have produced a couple-sized hole in the window as I aimed for the sun and punted the fuckers right into it. My friends then staggered their inebriated asses into my apartment at three in the morning as gracefully and noiselessly as pregnant, tap-dancing ballerinas with bricks strapped to their feet. At this point I was tired as hell and said fuckitall, walked to my bedroom, shut the door and plotted their murders.

Sweet, sweet nectar?when I walked into my bedroom I saw ray of light sent from the heavens and descending on my unoccupied bed. This was like the equivalent of someone bringing a recovered heroin addict a box full of clean needles and a gallon jug of freshly cooked dope, only without all that ?addiction? crap. I was just about to lay down for a long winters nap when the unmistakable sound of puking emanated form the bathroom?

My sleep pattern has been off recently and I haven?t been able, as of late, to get a decent night?s rest. This became exponentially worse when the fuckle gang moved in right above me, cramming 5,000 pounds of moron and wailing toddler into a one-bedroom apartment. The other day I saw the male of the trio, whom I call ?lumpy?, outside in the hall. At any given time you will find the neighbors from hell wearing any or all of the following: a neon tank top, Jams shorts, and some kind of horribly idiotic hat or sunglasses which the Salvation Army would refuse to accept on the grounds that it would make them seem cheap and tacky. Every night when I park my car I am momentarily petrified with fear as I exit my vehicle and am staring face to face with their phalanx of nappy cats who seem to lurk in the shadows and plot my demise. As I run and scream like a retarded school girl from my car to my door I am confronted by a smell that hits me like a punch in the face, and it?s coming from the apartment upstairs. From what I can gather lumpy was beating his girlfriend with a whiffle ball bat and slipped and knocked over the pot of whatever-the-fuck they made for dinner. Thus causing the apartment to smell like boiled cat urine and sneakers for the following nine decades.

This is too much right now, I?m going to sleep.