Nekked Wrestlers in the Street
From the title, you can guess we had an interesting evening around here last night.
I arrived home, fresh from a girl’s night with Danielle, and Bryan and I settled into the domestic bliss that *is* Friday night. (He entered bills into Quicken and I promptly fell asleep fully clothed on top of the covers of the bed).
But around 11:30pm, when Bryan finally was done with the bloody checks (um, yeah, it’s been a while), and I was fuzzily telling him about our evening… we noticed all this hooting. And hollering. And beeping.
And while, yes, we live in an urban neighborhood – it’s usually pretty darn quiet near midnight. ANY night of the week.
Then I remembered The Frat B-o-y-s. The dudes who rent the house across the way, who like to play frisbee over the main thoroughfare we live next to. That must be it.
Honk honk HONNNNNNNNNNNK! Woot woot WOOOOOOT!
OK, this is not their ordinary game of Frisbee.
So, we finally get out of bed to see what is going on. As I blearily look through my window, through the trees, down a few houses to the main road where their shenanigans usually take place… I see… a… flash… of… A S S.
Now I am wide awake and have my forehead pressed to the window.
Yes! I see A S S. But technically, they are not nekked.
These boys have T-H-O-N-G-S on.
If I was religious, I would swear on a holy bible, because I promise this is a TRUE STORY.
Not only do these boys have nothing but t-h-o-n-g-s on, they are crouching across the street from each other, Fight Club style, waiting for breaks on the traffic and then… BAM! Attack!
They are fucking wrestling, in t-h-o-n-g-s, at midnight, on a high traffic street, in the middle of fucking Denver. No fucking lie.
When I picked my jaw up off the floor, I called the non-emergency police line and tried to explain the story to the dispatch lady.
Her: “They are wearing t-h-o-n-g-s?”
Me: “Yes.”
Her: “Are they male or female?”
Me: “Male.”
Her: “What color are they?”
Me: “The boys or the t-h-o-n-g-s? Errr. White.”
Her: “And they are wrestling in the middle of the street?”
Me: “Yes.”
Her: “Are they drunk?”
Me: “Um, they are wobbly.”
Her: “Are they fighting?”
Me: “No, I think they are just playing around. But people are honking at them like crazy, so we were scared they were going to get hit.”
Her: “And they are wearing t-h-o-n-g-s and NOTHING else?” (laughing now)
Me: “I know, I can’t believe it either.”
It settled down soon after that, but I asked Bryan at least three times to make sure he had seen what I had seen. To make sure I wasn’t crazy. (He promises me, that at least in this case, I am not crazy.)
But speaking of crazy, the funny thing is, this is not the first time I have called the cops on Frat Dick neighbors. Back at our apartment – oh, over 10 years ago – there were a group of guys who liked to shoot fireworks off their balcony. Off their balcony and directly at our apartment building and onto our cars.
It used to drive me ape-shit.
I would call the police repeatedly, but we lived on another busy street and they could always see the cops coming and stop the show in time.
There was one famous summer night where I was at the end of my rope, and I screamed out our open apartment window at them like an absolute crazy shrew: “THE POLICE HAVE BEEN CALLED!”
All I got in return was howling laughter and more fireworks aimed at the sound of my voice.
I got the last laugh, though, because I finally called their landlord and he wasn’t too happy when he saw all the burn marks on the balcony.
Their stuff was piled up on the street the very next day.
However, Bryan still teases me about that night when I am getting frazzled and irrational. All he has to say is “THE POLICE HAVE BEEN CALLED!” and I immediately snap back to reality.
Thusly, I am extremely proud of my reaction last night.
Mild amusement and mainly, concern that we would have splattered Frat B-o-y all over the avenue.
Because that would be a waste of a perfectly good t-h-o-n-g, right?
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This post has been edited because of all the pervy searches that keep landing here.
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oh college kids! they are so zany!
that’s a good story. and you’re not crazy. you saw the thongs!
LMAO …
We live on an urban street as well. There was the night we had to listen to retching/ fighting/ screaming at 4 a.m. — so we called the cops. The funniest thing was listening to them as the cops showed up. (“The neighbours called the cops on us?” As if we wouldn’t dare… )
THAT is hilarious.
yeah, where are the pictures of this??!!
Kids these days.
Oh, and no pictures? I’m disappointed.
I think the camera would have been a perfect way to end it! Or, at least, to make you some money on — I dunno, college-guys-wrestle-in-thongs.com?
Well handled, too — if they’d been loud enough to wake up Boobaby on my street, I’d’ve been out there knockin’ heads. Well, mentally anyway.
OMG, no pictures? Aimee, I’m disappointed. Really disappointed.
We had these downstairs neighbors in college that were horrible. I mean, horrible. The last straw for me was that they decided during finals week to have a band come play in their apartment on a Tuesday night. After listening to it for about an hour, I started thumping on the floor with a broom and then ended up getting in a huge fight with them because *I* was ruining the band’s mojo. They got evicted three months later for failure to pay rent, and it was a happy, happy day.
None of them were ever naked, though. You definitely have one up on me.
This belongs in an episode of Seinfeld. I was gonna say America’s Funniest Home Videos but nobody watches that… do they??
Except that you forget that I hate Seinfeld. ;)))
And I can’t believe that for ONCE I totally didn’t even think of getting my camera out!
That is hilarious. Too bad you didn’t have a video camera handy.
I read this yesterday and did not post as I became preoccupied with a fantasy of seeing Nathan Fillion wearing a thong whilst wrestling admist traffic back in my uni days! It would’ve been enough to make my 18 year old virginal brain EXPLODE with lust and laughter (and yes, the two are intrinsically connected in my mind). Mind you, my 34 year old self can barely cope with the idea either.
lol… Fight Club style… “I am Brad’s slightly off-white sweaty thong.”
OMG.
I cannot believe this story! You know you totally made the dispatcher’s night.
Are they DU students??
That. Is. Hilarious.
Where. Are. The. Pictures?
Oh, the things I miss by not living in town…
The police have been called!
Ha! That’s precious.