Don't Let My Lesbian Dishes Hit You On the Way Out, Officers

The BBQ Pit
1

Look, it’s shitty enough that I have neighbours who continuously make noise complaints when nobody’s fucking home and have loud goddamn sex that sounds like a dog being brutally tormented in the wee hours of the motherfucking morning. I do not need to be curled up on the couch with my best friend of eight years and a book, neither of us moving or talking, at 2am on a fucking Wednesday night and disturbed by a knock at the door that I think is a fucking burglar. My (completely platonic) best friend and I do not need to be so scared that we answer the door together, creeping down the hallway looking for an improvised weapon, only to ask “Who is it?” through the fucking door and hear, “It’s the cops.”

We especially don’t need to open the door to find your sketchy-ass mustached face and your female partner with more makeup on her than is in the entire goddamn Maybelline catalogue craning your stinking fucking necks into my apartment like it’s of any relevance to a motherfucking noise complaint.

Look, I know we both look gay, but that does not mean it’s with eachother you fuckbag. We don’t need to hear your voice dripping with revulsion as you go “You both live here, right?” like you’re expecting us to say, “Yes, and we scissor twice a day.” Officer Fag-hater, immediately after you inform us that the noise complaint was for what the neighbours called “banging and shouting” we do not need your pig ass to ask us, word for word, “You weren’t having a domestic dispute, were you? Were you throwing plates at eachother?” You know what I should have done? I should have put on a shocked face and been like “Why would I be having a domestic dispute with my half-sister?!” THAT would have showed you to assume shit, you homophobic cocksucker.

We didn’t need the diembodied voice of Officer Invisible in the background, pretending to write our names and birthdates in your nonexistent fucking orange book. Aren’t you bastards legally obligated to show either your faces or your motherfucking badges? Because you know what, if we had been having a domestic dispute there’s no way in hell either party would have said “Yes” to a question like that. The oddly specific suggestion of throwing fucking plates when the only plates visible were stacked neatly in the dish-dry rack leads me to believe you were just hoping to provoke us, Officer Fag-hater. Well you can go suck pickled cock in hell, you overgrown preteen.

And next time you and Officer Whoreface (oh, did you bring Officer Invisible again? I can’t fucking tell!) decide to show up, we’re going to get all your fucking badge numbers. If I hadn’t been so royally pissed about the “domestic dispute” crack that my brain rebooted, I would have asked for them this time. Because that fuckery should be prosecuted, Officer Fag-hater, your fat arse is supposed to be impartial and fucking professional. You want to be a bigoted sack of shit, you do so OFF DUTY.

And to my oh-so-considerate neighbours: if you’re going to call the pork brigade, at least have the fucking decency to notify the landlady. She had no idea they were even there until my best friend and I told her the next morning. Because somehow she miraculously slept through all that noise we must’ve made reading, while your aristocratic little ears picked right the fuck up on it like that fairytale with the cocksucking pea.

2

You must need an IMAX screen for all that projection.

3

So why do lesbians read so loudly?

4

Short version: “The cops knocked on my door late at night. I had to get off the couch. They asked a few questions to make sure everything was ok. This made me very, very angry.”

5

What I was going to say, only more succinctly.
Unless “You both live here, right?” and “Were you throwing plates at each other?” contain some sort of hidden anti-gay code…

6

Your ire seems misplaced. The police were responding to a domestic violence call, and apparently were asking questions based on the information received. The cops get really, really bad press when they ignore those calls and someone ends up dead, so they’re going to knock and talk to you, and probe a bit to make sure one or the other of the parties isn’t being intimidated by their partner to not complain.

Either you’ve pissed off a neighbor (potentially homophobic, can’t tell), or the police responded to the wrong address.

7

FYI, burglars rarely knock.

8

Lesbian dishes can only be washed using the palm of Olive.

9

Cops don’t say “It’s the cops” when you ask who it is.

Either your story isn’t quite right or those weren’t real cops at your door.

Also, the police always respond to every call. Assuming this actually happened, you can’t blame the cops, blame your neighbors. All the cops can do is go to your door and try to see if what they were told actually happened.

One last thing. It doesn’t matter if you’re gay, straight, brother and sister or just roommates. If you get into a fight with the person you’re living with, it’s a domestic dispute. Your relationship with the person you share your living space with doesn’t really come into play here (as far as I know).

Also, I’m confused about this Officer Invisible thing? Was there another cop around the corner and the cop you were talking to was rattling your info off to him and he was writing it down? Did he have a badge? I’m thinking this wasn’t really cops. Maybe your neighbor hired some strippers to scare you. Why don’t you call the real cops and ask if they sent some officers around to your apartment last night. If not, someone could get in a ton of trouble for impersonating an officer.

Or the story is BS, this still a possibility. Something just isn’t adding up.

10

I don’t know where you live, but I’m willing to bet that it defines a domestic dispute as a dispute between two people living in the same place. So, when you decide to punch your platonic roommate for reading too loud, the act will likely be described as domestic violence.

11

I’m not seeing anything in the OP that suggests that there was any loud noises made that prompted the police to come. If that’s true, then I sympathize with the OP.

12

I must be getting behind the times.
Should I Google this term with images “on”?

13

Get two scissors. Try to cut them with each other.

Will I have to draw you a picture?

14

Yes

15

Heh, I was watching a stand up comedian the other day. In his routine he was discussing why he hates lesbians but doesn’t hate gays. He went on to explain if you ask a woman if she’s a lesbian she will respond with: “Why man? WTF does it matter? you gotta problem?” If you ask a gay man if he is gay he will respond with a flamboyant: “Guilty!”

The OP seems to fit the above stereotype perfectly.

16

The correct answer would be, “we were having hot, steamy, passionate sex, did we make too much noise?”

17

Unless the local police are in the habit of randomly harassing quiet lesbians, I’d say her rage should be directed at whoever called them.

18

I’m always quiet around lesbians.
Oh, sorry, libraries.

19

Some of them do, to see if someone’s home, and if someone IS home, they pretend to be taking a survey. Or they pretend to be cops. If no-one’s home, out come the lockpicks and lootbags.

However, I’d reserve my ire (if these were real cops) for the person who called the cops.

20

I hate lesbian dishes. I always get slapped when I try licking the bowl.