Dear my upstairs neighbors,
Much as i have chosen to pat myself on the back for being a flexible person and tolerating your less than considerate behavior up to this point, it is getting a bit ridiculous. I'm sure you have a perfectly good reason for needing to play your music at levels that make it completely audible in my bathroom. Likewise, there must have been a legitimate reason that you assumed 3:30 am was a good time to move furniture. And the fact that you austensibly have hooves is a cruel twist of genetics and not something that I could ever blame on you.
However, in your Move-in packet that we were all given in a fantastic display of maternal concern by the nice gracefully-aging lady in the office, you were told that quiet hours start at 10. It is near to 2 am. Shut off your shitty club music, gag your loud drunk friends, and for Christ's sake stop stomping around on my ceiling!