Drunks, Cat Crazies, and Bloody Feet

Tonight's been somewhat eventful. Interesting times and all that.

Drunken Assholes Next Door

Excuse the swearing, but these guys really make me angry, all the more because we don't have any actual eyewitnesses among our group who can, with 100% certainty, pin it on any particular guy. Last weekend, two guys pissed on our front door and in our jack-o-lantern. Forrest pounded on the inside of the door and yelled at them through it to make them go away. We didn't get a good look at them because you can't see anything of value through those door peepholes.

Then, later that night (around 3:30 in the morning, after we had all gone to sleep), we heard the doorbell ringing repeatedly. Concerned, Forrest and I got up to investigate. No one was around outside, but the jerks had left behind vomit on the door. They took particular care to hit the doorknob and the deadbolt lock. We could hear that people were awake and talking next door, but we had no evidence really linking it to them. Forrest ended up cleaning up the vomit with gloves and bleach. The next day he talked to the office to get them to hose down the front porch area, but there wasn't really much else anyone could do.

So tonight, some more drunks were pissing on the front door. We were very angry at this happening again — we had hoped it was a one-time prank, or a one-time revenge for some imagined slight. Just then, Dan (the other roommate) came home, having walked past the neighbors. He told us that he had just overheard them talking about pissing on our door. Apparently there was internal argument over there, with the main group of partyers yelling at the few drunks who had done it. Moreover, the drunks were guests, not the neighbors themselves.

Aaron and the rest of Them went out to confront the group. We got a fairly chaotic response, but eventually there was some sort of an apology and they came over with cleaner to clean off the door. One guy in a knit cap and no shirt (who "lives way the fuck over there," rather than next door, in his own words) came into the apartment to apologize for his buddies. He said he agreed that what they'd done wasn't cool at all, that they would all go home and let things cool down, and that they wouldn't do anything like that again. Like the word of one drunk guy speaking for another bunch of drunk guys means anything.

Then the neighbors themselves came over, after yelling at this shirtless guest to stop messing around. One of the neighbors talked to us. At first he was apologetic too, but then he started evading questions and shifting blame, and eventually flat-out denied that anyone from his party had anything to do with the night's problems. I called him on evading blame so if we called the cops he wouldn't have confessed to anything, but he just weaseled past that accusation, too. He kept repeating his arguments that it wasn't any of his people. We eventually told him flat out that we didn't believe him but we weren't going to get anywhere arguing with each other. Forrest told him to get out of the apartment — calmly but firmly, though he had to restate the request twice — and the guy left.

We talked amongst ourselves and agreed that we'd call the cops next time it happened, now that we had given internal handling of matters a shot. Personally, I didn't want to be so lenient, but it's probably for the best. I'm not really expecting the problem to stay away indefinitely, but what else can we do at this point?

Cat Crazies

Whoooosh. Anyway. Onto less blood-pressure–raising incidents. 'Lex has finally exhibited cat crazies. The carpet attacked her in the hallway tonight and chased her up and down it. While she was busy fighting of the edges of the carpet, a doubled-folded (and thus non-sticky) piece of electrical tape pounced on her. And she leapt at the wall for good measure. But later, she wouldn't chase a trail of toilet paper. So she's still somewhat defective. :)

Forrest's Bloody Foot

This section title isn't swearing, it's the literal truth. Forrest came back from a late night Food 4 Less run and started reorganizing the pantry. (We now have a shelf each dedicated to cans, spices, pasta & rice, sauces, and "miscellaneous.") While in the kitchen doing that, he stepped on a shard of glass. He hobbled into the bathroom, managed to lift his foot into the sink, and rinsed off his wound. It was bleeding pretty good for a little glass shard.

When we noticed that he'd bled on the carpet, he apologized for doing so. (This is funny because when I was young — maybe junior high, maybe late elementary school — I smashed my nose on the narrow part of a door and gave myself a painful bloody nose. I went upstairs to my parents' bedroom, crying, and the first thing I did when my dad opened the door was say, "I'm sorry for bleeding on the stairs." Priorities.)

So anyhow, I gave Forrest some Neosporin and a bandaid out of the first aid kit (thanks, Dad!). He put on his boots to protect his foot, which was now starting to actually hurt. (Pain delays are weird like that.) Aaron and Forrest went along the hallway to each of the fresh bloodstains and poured hydrogen peroxide onto them. It all fizzed up bloody and gross, but it got rid of the stains. Still, it's probably a good thing that this apartment has that nasty blue-and-gray industrial carpet and not some fancy, fluffy white stuff.

Enough Excitement for One Night

So that's what went on tonight. I'm tired and am going to bed, lest more interesting things happen.

(PS — Hehe, look at that odd-ball collection of category tags below!)

Categories: drinking, pranks, cat, humor, Forrest, pain