Hey, You!

Please empty your apartment of drug-addicted vagabonds immediately. I've never met you, but I know your unwashed, half-baked houseguests well. Their nightly roundtable discussion and smoke fest outside my bedroom window is cutting in on the sleep of someone who wakes up before noon. If they're going to keep me up with mindless banter, they could at least make it coherent. Next time I hear the white guy with dreads and tattoos on his face talking about being a "desert nomad" or goddamn 9/11 conspiracies at 4 in the morning, I'm going to ballbat him in his coke-sniffing nose. I'm trying not to lose it, but us square folks need our sleep so we can WORK. By the time you read this, I'll probably have called members of the "Global Police State" to tell these shifty sacks of shit to shut it. Maybe they can even get them on some drug charges and take them where their cigarettes are considered a valuable currency.

Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to "Hey, You!" c/o OC Weekly, 1666 N. Main St., Ste. 500, Santa Ana, CA 92701-7417, or e-mail us at letters@ocweekly.com.

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