Trailer Park Wednesday

Hello! Okay, so after a long and super tedious consideration of the benefits of blogging, I've decided to give it a go. There's absolutely no theme or purpose to my blog ecxept that I want to keep in touch with everyone and this way you'll all know what's going on in my life. So, here's what happened to me on Wednesday...

Around 7:40pm I was busy chatting with my prof for my online Textual Scholarship course (which means I was really busy trying to work in big words like "feminist dystopian fiction" or "narrative prosthesis") when L and I heard all this yelling in the hallway. Our neighbor across the hall and his lady (whose orgasms we've all had the dubious pleasure of hearing) were blasting insults at each other at the loudest and screechiest possible voices. Deciding that they would probably call each other a few names and then start having super loud sex we just ignored them. Then L heard the girl yell "somebody help me" so, being a decent guy, he went out to the hallway and asked if everything was okay. The dude had the chick by the hair and she was like "does everything look fucking okay?!" Classy. So then he asked her if she wanted him to call the cops and she ignored him and continued fighting. So he came back inside and we stood by the door listening (muy comico) until I heard the chick yell "you punched me, bastard!!" That's when I decided to call the cops because I thought for sure
they were gonna kill each other soon. The cops, however, needed to know their apartment number, and L and I couldn't remember if the numbers go up or down in that particular direction...so I decided to undertake a mission. The dude and chick had wandered back into their apartment to continue fighting, so the coast was clear for me to sneak out into the hallway to discover their apartment number. Standing outside their door I heard the girl yelling about how she wanted her shit, her beer, and her curtains and how she's not psycho just because she loves him. Whatever. I kind of felt bad for her...until the cops arrived. Why is that, you ask? Well, when the RCMP were coming up the stairs the fighting started to get louder and louder and the girl started screaming like a banshee. I don't know if the dude was hitting her, but he was definitely on top of her because she was yelling "get off me!" So anyway, the cops get there and they pull the guy off her-- L and I were listening from behind our door and we could hear the cops telling the dude to put his hands behind his head, etc. And what was the chick doing while the cops were trying to get the no-good dude to calm down?

Of course, she was crying and yelling "you're hurting him!...he didn't do anything wrong!!"

And that's when I stopped feeling sorry for her. Chicks who like to get beaten up are wacky. I mean, really! The dude punches you and you're mad at the police for making him stop? Okay, um, then don't have you stupid domestic dispute in the HALLWAY!!! Buggers. All of them.

So that was pretty much that. We just had to give the cops our witness statements.

It was really sad, pathetic, and very disturbing.