My downstairs neighbors

OK, during my 2 year stint in this building it has been pretty interesting. At one time the local TV traffic guy was living in the downstairs apartment, a rather rotund elderly drunken lady could often be seen wandering the building, a one-eyed Iranian crackhead was living in the alley below our window, and one of the neighboring apartments spent a short time as a crack den.

Lately it seems the apartment managers only seem to be accepting new tenants on the basis of their ownership of incredibly annoying toy dogs. I'm fine with pets, I own a cat (which i consider a suitable pet for a downtown apartment), but owning a dog in such a confined environment is just cruel, regardless of how gay your fucking chihuahua is (seriously you emasculated fucks, these little shits can't even fetch your slippers or the paper, what good are they?).

That's not even the worst of it. Not only do the smegwads downstairs own at least 3 of these fucking whiny, yappy, lame ass dogs, but they managed to score the apartment while both being unemployed.

You heard right, UNEMPLOYED. Way to screen your applicants guys. Good luck collecting rent, and kicking out squatters is difficult as fuck in this pussified state.

Now, to add insult to injury, these motherfuckers god a god damn drum kit. If i make it to the end of this week without catching a double homicide case then it'll be a miracle of biblical proportions. Stay tuned.