To the sorority cunts above my apartment,

You are not important enough for me to even communicate with verbally, seeing as how all of you have absolutely no comprehension of my vocabulary in the first place. But I figured it would at least attempt to compile some form of a large complaint against you on here before beginning some tactics that I intend to post in my next installment.
For you see, it is not polite to have a party every single night of the week...despite whatever you feel that your organization has to live up to. There are some people that actually have important work to do, and can't even begin to do so with people deciding to "dance"at any given time to generic dance/top 40 music blasting loud enough to shake a ceiling to the point where dust actually falls down on the occupants below them. On the same note, have you ever noticed that none of you can actually dance to begin with? The stomping that can be heard is in no way in a rhythmic manner, as a matter of fact...it sounds more like several elephants running on nothing but doses of tranquilizer heavy enough to make them hallucinate, but not heavy enough to actually bring them down. So really, stop chasing the leprechaun around your room, because it's just the date rape drug-riddled appletinis you've been consuming the whole time.
I love it when there are people outside of my ground floor apartment at all hours of the night, because it affords me the opportunity to go to the zoo from my current residence. It is truly incredible how people and animals respond to having a laser pointer on them in nearly the same way: they get confused, look around, and shrug it off. Then I hit them in the eye with it.
So this is my list of complaints and observations after living all of a week under you girls. I hope you fully understand...ah who am I kidding, you're all too busy with the cocks in your hands and mouth to look anywhere but at the patch of poorly shaved pubic hair in front of you anyway.