Dig Before You Call?

As many of you know, I moved into a new home in the last few months and out of The Village of the Damned. Continue reading

She’s Talking Crap Again!

How much rudeness can be packed into one apartment?  Some day, hopefully soon, I’ll look back and miss my time here.

Residing in Apt #666 downstairs in The Village of the Damned, is Mr Marlboro Man, his little Missus, a young teen boy and a tiny yipping canine. Y’all have heard me talk about Mr Marlboro Man before and I’m about to again. Continue reading

This Place Is Making Me Paranoid

Mrs. Kravitz had a knock at her door yesterday at around 4:20 pm. After looking through the peephole and determining it was not UPS, FEDEX nor a maintenance gnome, Mrs. Kravitz did something she never does. She opened the door!

Standing there was a slightly unkempt young man. He had nothing with him except for a pen which he held in one hand and kept thwacking into the palm of the other hand. His first words were, “I’m not selling anything.” Continue reading