Apr 28, 2007


Overheard: "Moshe, it's not a gloryhole!"


Just a reminder: Have you voted in the Bloggers Choice Awards? Well look over to the right on my sidebar, then down a little and vote yourself silly. Thanks!


A cute apartment is open in my building, with another one opening at the end of the month. Oh, I hope whoever rents these apartments are not douchebags. I don't want to live with douchebags. I want a cool neighbor, a neighbor I could go "Hey, want to go get a bite of dinner around the corner, huh?" and it wouldn't be creepy, put me in peril or anything like that. Sadly, I have several neighbors who seem perfectly nice, but even living in this apartment for two years, I don't really know any of them. I know that one dude, but we seem to mostly bump into each other when I've just been running and I'm all in the zone or off in space so I usually say something wicked stupid to him, then there is my upstairs neighbor who seems cool (I hear her playing Smiths CDs from time to time. She is surely a fantastic human being.) but I only know her last name from the mailboxes.

Maybe that's the rub. Maybe I should just make sure to be outgoing and welcoming to the new neighbors. Take the reigns. Yes. I'll do that. Unless my new neighbors happen to be White Supremacists or something. Then probably not.

Somehow that seems like a sitcom.

So, what kind of neighbors would I wish for? Okay, let's think about this and plug data into the Guth-o-matic 2000 Neighbor Generator. My perfect neighbors would be any combination of:

Tattoo artists, a nice quiet writer (ah, bliss), animal people, distance runners, yoga fans, people who usually have bleach and freaky haircolor around, hairstylists, a Morrissey/Smiths fan, vegetarians that cook too much and force their extras upon me, people that would be down for plants on the back porch at least one of them would have to share with me, or, you know, just someone cool. Cool neighbors would be great.

Today, I didn't make too much of a dent in the essays I need to get finished. But, that's okay. I'll get them wrapped up. Anyway.... I'm about to head out for a little while. You guys don't give the 'sitter any shit. You do what she tells you. Okay, gimmie a hug. Bye, kids. Be good.

(That little bit of nonsense just reminded me of a funny memory. I used to be friends with this guy who decided his social currency wold be greater if he ran around telling women that he and I had a kid together from a past hookup [Let the record clearly show that I do not have children. At all.]. His plan backfired when I would insist on shouting things at him each time I saw him out with anyone. I'd shout things like, "Where is the kid? You irresponsible ASS, it's your weekend! If he gets into your stash again I'll have you arrested!" Eventually, he realized what fun this game was and began to shout things back like, "Hell if I know, I left him on the corner with a backpack and a whistle. Why are you FREAKING OUT?" Ah, good times.)

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