Drunkards on the balcony

Damn men. Testosterone-addled creatures. The apartment to the right of me houses fraternity rejects, most of whom have been sitting out all night tonight drinking beer, playing bad music, and doing whatever else men do when they get together.

It all proved too much for one. Who got into a tizzy of some sort. All I could make out of his loud, drunken rant was "fucking....fuck...fuck you..." I was kind of hoping I'd hear the sound of a body going over a rail. Is that bad of me?

Incidentally, to stay on topic, I bet they wear Abercrombie, bought on sale.