Sorry for the story-telling interruption but I have some news that's too ridiculous not to be shared.

Yesterday at school, the woman in charge of housing, Nicole, pulls two of my flatmates aside and tells them she needs to talk to all of us who live in Asti on Monday. Puzzled, they went to their respective classes but afterward decided to ask Nicole to tell them what was going on because waiting all weekend would have been miserable.
Nicole proceeds to tells my confused flatmates that several residents of our building have called Accent to complain about us.
Why the complaints?
Because we're too loud?
No.
Because we use the elevator too much?
No.
Because we occasionally stumble back into the building drunkenly at 4am?
No.
Well, what then?

Here's what: Some asshole has been leaving their used condoms in the stairwell of our apartment building, and the appearance of these condoms happens to coincide perfectly with the arrival of the American girls on the 10th floor. Not only that, but the 9th floor apartment directly below said girls' apartment found a used condom on their balcony, the assumption being, of course, that someone from the 10th floor apartment threw it down there.
Because we're the young American girls, we are obviously to blame.

In case you had any shadow of a doubt in your mind, let me clarify that these events have absolutely nothing to do with us. Nothing. And it's super convenient that we have absolutely no way of proving ourselves innocent.
We are clearly being watched carefully by our oh-so-nonjudgmental neighbors. And since said neighbors have obviously been talking about these events with each other, it explains the odd looks we've been receiving in the elevator, and why two of the girls were stopped by an older couple who demanded to know what floor they lived on.

So everyone knows who we are, what floor we live on, and that we're the sluts who like to decorate our residence with our sex souvenirs.

Isn't that rich?