I think they left breathing and chewing off the list of complaints.
Things are beginning to heat up at your favorite E. 25th Street haunt, ladies and gents. Typically, in this day and age of walking on eggshells and mincing one's words, I would be expected to cull my "swearing and yelling." But that just wouldn't be any fun.
Crabby neighbors are a lot like crabby crotches. You can forget about them all you want, but it just takes one wild night to get them riled up and ready to rip your dick off. And, judging by the above note that was waiting for me Monday morning, I’m facing a Stage 5 genital mutilation from the chaste folks across the hall. More on this as it develops, should you care even the slightest bit.
Administrative notes: Yes, I've been on a bit of a hiatus. A trip to Vegas nearly ended me. But now I'm back and ready to be productive once again. And no, I have no idea why this entire site became italicized. As always, I blame Ben.