Dear: The 150 Univeristy of Texas Freshman on Floor Two,

Prepare to die.

I know I for one am ready to come down there and do our state a favor and fucking kill all of you. I know I might sound like an asshole, but its fucking TUESDAY NIGHT. The next drunk 18 year old sorority girl who stands in the stairwell screaming,

"MANDY! MANDY! WHERE... AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE YOU, MANDY?"

... is going to get fucking punched in the face. I want to go fucking ride tomorrow, you assholes. Which means I don't want to fucking listen to your drunk-fucking-screaming right now. That means no slamming doors, no screaming

"WHOOOOOOOO! I'M DRUNK!"

and no

"IT'S COLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

You fucking dummy, its JANUARY in fucking COLORADO in the fucking MOUNTAINS. It's about 5 FUCKING DEGREES OUT. You people are the reason we all hate fucking people from Texas. You're embarrassing yourselves, man: learn how to fucking hold your liquor and act like less of a retard. Hint: don't wear your rolex in the hot tub, you teenage fucker.

Seriously. Saturday night? Fine. Friday night? Fine. Sunday night? Hey, whatever. But fucking Tuesday night is off limits you fucking rich preppy Texas gaper retards.

You guys are the first people fucking loud and stupid enough to get the cops called in the entire time I've lived here. There have been some wild parties, but there were either on the weekend or they were fucking smart enough not to throw beer bottles off the balcony and scream at each other "I'm SO DRUNK!".

When you are so loud and obnoxious that I can hear your conversation word-for-word from two floors away from inside my condo with the pillow over my head, it might be time to re-evaluate your life here.

GO FUCKING HOME and shut the fuck up.