This past weekend, Thanksgiving up here, has just been the most dramatic, over-wrought annoying one ever. It started out on Friday night when I casually noticed that someone was hot linking to my pictures. She wasn't passing them off as her own, but there wasn't any attribution plus they were hot linked from my server. I switched the images over to two black and white notes that said: "Only Assholes Steal Images by Hotlinking. Fuck YOU." And "The downfall of Hotlinking... You get whatever *I* put up. Don't steal my art."

I was pretty steamed about it. She had complimented my work, and that was a feel good, but she was also stealing them and as I mentioned in my last entry, I'm a cranky bitch lately. So I just left it, and then the next day she sent me an email giving me shit for the image changes. I was going to leave it, but I finally wrote back an email explaining why Hotlinking is theft, why it pissed me off, and why I didn't give a rats behind if she respected me or my art. I figured that was the last of it. Surprisingly it wasn't in that she sent me a very nice apology letter explaining that she didn't know about hotlinking and that she understood. I still have to respond to that email because more drama offline came up.

I've mentioned before the little punkass children that like to throw loud obnoxious parties that live on my floor. It's become a kind of "Will they? Won't they?" game every Saturday for the past 5 weeks with their parties. Most of the time it's a "They will." answer. So last weekend I hid away in my bedroom and tried to ignore their party, and managed until Mike woke me up telling me that the cops had come a'knocking at their door and gave them a clear warning to shut the hell up.

We figured that would make this weekend into a "They Won't." I mean, most people when the police come pounding at your door and tell you they're going to fine you $300 minimum, they decide to let up on the loud parties for a while. Give your neighbours some time to mellow out, stop hating your guts, and loosen up on the Police dialling finger. Oh ho, not these brain trusts, not a chance.

So the door slamming, the loud talking, the laughter, generally the annoying noise factor starts at 7:30pm. Me... I'm thinking we should head them off at the pass and call the police before the magic hour of 11pm. The bylaw clearly states that any nuisance noise at any time can be fined. I figure maybe they're just going to party a little and then shut the fuck up around magic hour. So I leave it.

Slam. Bang. Drunken assholes. Bang. Boom. Slam. Slam. Slam. Drunken laughter. Slam. Slam. Do I smell cigarette smoke? Slam. Boom. Bang.

Then right at magic hour it stops. A few of the little loser cars leave. I figure they decided to play loud and then go somewhere else for their fun when the fine time came. Then it gets more and more noisy until we finally call the police at 11:45pm. These little shits don't shut up. They pour their party out into the hallway; Mike said they had the door open when he went past to "take out the garbage" (read: spy). They somehow manage to slam the open door over and over again. Then around 12:15pm I'm in the kitchen and I hear drunken, aggressive yelling. I stand a bit closer to the door.

"It's that apartment! That one! Those called!" "Those motherfucking fucks!" "WAKE THEM UP! WAKE THEM UP! WAKE THEM UP! WAKE THEM UP!"

I don't know if you've ever heard a drunken aggressive mob sound, gentle reader, but I have, and I heard it loud and clear through my paper-thin door. I heard young angry men looking for a fight, looking for someone to hurt because someone keeps phoning the police on their parties. I also knew that I might be the only person in this building that has walked out into that group of children and said, "Shut the fuck up. Have some respect. Keep your parties out of the hallway." and then walked back into my home. Marking where I live clearly.

I was scared. I walked away from the door hoping that the police would come soon and puncture that aggression bubble. They didn't.

A little while after that we heard a smashing sound that I said was glass shattering, plate glass, and Mike thought it was metal like the railing in the stairwells. I figured a window or a door had been shattered. I went back to the door to listen and I heard a young female voice laughing/scared say "We're in SO much shit." You know the way teenagers say stuff like that, do you remember? I do. That sound of fear but also invulnerability. That arrogance.

We listened off and on for a while longer. The party would quiet and then they'd be right back at the door slamming again. I finally fell asleep around 3am, and they were still at it.

I woke up around 7am wondering what that smashing noise was the night before. I was sure it was some of the glass out back, and I wanted to check before anyone was up. So I crept downstairs. First thing I noticed on the way down was the poor fake plant, shredded. Then I saw the glass. They had managed to shatter all the glass in the security door, the frame was warped and there were shards of glass everywhere. I went back upstairs to get the camera and tell Mike about it.

We did a walk around the building, taking pictures and marvelling at the destruction. There was the shredded plant, the kicked in door, the three bikes damaged beyond repair, the flattened picnic table, the ripped out garden and garbage strewn everywhere. That aggression that scared me the night before had found somewhere to go and when I looked at the destruction I got really scared. So I went upstairs and called our landlord and then the police again.

I wanted a report from us that I felt threatened, that I felt these children were dangerous. I wanted to know our options for dealing with them. What I could do to make this building safe for me and mine again. The Officer was brutally honest with us. She told us that all we could do was keep calling in the complaints. That unless they directly threaten us, in a clear manner, it's not a threat. But if they ever do threaten me or mine, and this is highly likely she said, it's criminal and they have to so something about it. She also said that they needed more than one unit making the complaints, because if it's only one calling it's considered a personality conflict.

So I sat down with Mike and we wrote a letter after she left. I'm pretty proud of it. We went to the back and put the letters in the mailboxes for all the other units in the building. And of course, while we were doing this, the children came outside for a cigarette. They crunched the glass into the carpet and snickered.

There are no words to describe how I feel about this type of person. I've dealt with them time and time again and I despise them. The only thing that ever matters is their pleasure. I hope they get evicted, I hope they get charged, I hope they find themselves outcast and ostracized from humanity. I want them the hell away from my home and the hell away from my child.

So even though that Police Officer looked at us and said to expect holes in our doors, windows broken and harassment from these children I am going to phone the police and our landlords every time they step over the line.