-So, my mom got her hands on a copy of the police report from yesterday's excitement. Turns out this is not the first time this man has had a run-in with the police and they are "familiar" with him. I think that has to be Reason #4,506 I have no desire to be a cop: I didn't like dealing with this guy once, never mind having to do it enough to be familiar with him. ("Oh, everyone can relax, it's just Dave - I'd recognize that genitalia anywhere!")
-Thanks to this creep having a fairly unusual last name, I was able to Google him (as you do) and discovered he has a LinkedIn page. He lists his industry as "Fine Arts"... of course he does. I got a shroomy/terrible musician vibe from him, so I can almost guarantee that he has a Phish poster in his house. This incident is not going to help my distrust of the damn, dirty hippies.
-Turns out that this guy lives just a street away from me, but actually came from the opposite direction than I thought. Still, now that I have a general idea of where he lives I am tempted to wait until he gets home, kick his door in, saunter into his living room, whip my junk out, scream "Now we're even!", put it away and leave. I won't, but the impulse is there.
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