Rat in a Cage

After having the police at my door for the third time on Saturday, I decided to raise the terror level. Nearly every day this week I have came home and turned my music on. I moved my stereo back downstairs so the bass is right on the bitches’ heads! Yesterday I got in just after 5. I had my Mom with me. I turned on my iPod and Fleetwood Mac “Say You Will” came on. I think that song hadn’t been over long when my phone rang. It was someone from the office. She was being nice (fake) and asked me if I minded turning my music down. I told the bitch that it wasn’t that loud and that this whole thing is getting ridiculous. I’m pretty sure they were made aware that the police had been there Saturday night. I told her anyway and she acted like she didn’t know. She had nothing to say. I’m so sick of this shit. A noise complaint at 5 fucking 30? They’re miserable and need to die. Jamie knows the guy that lives behind me. He’s 50 and has lived in different parts of these apartments for ten years! He said he had friends over and partied until 6am on Saturday night. He never got any complaints, nor did we hear him. I don’t know what else to do, aside from not paying rent and getting evicted. The letter and the meeting proved pointless.
In other news, I need to sign up for my next round of classes. I have four to choose from. I think the only thing I take online now is the elective I have yet to choose. I’m not left with Professional Development, Public Speaking, and Investments. Fun, fun.