if it ain’t knuckle-draggin’

Then it’s sacrificing a goat at 3:15 a.m.
As far as neighbors go, I sure know how to pick ’em. I escaped the entire baseball team only to be met by the facial piercing brigade on the other side of my wall.
Across the hall, on the other hand, is a very sweet neighbor who, despite being a social worker, laughed when I called the others Satan worshippers.
I don’t know if it was the nighttime sinus pills or reality, but I could swear I witnessed people climbing a ladder and up through the hatch to the roof to have a cookout last night.
Speaking of sinuses, and other birthday disasters, this one was a classic. And I just topped it all off, if you will, by closing the washing machine door on my head.
Meanwhile, Lauren has the audacity to call me while she’s wandering down Fifth Avenue or strolling into Times Square. I would be more aghast if Danielle and I weren’t going to stay with her for a week in NYC in June. Check back later for our almost guaranteed misadventures.

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