Dear Happy Tappers,
I am so glad that you have found a place to practice your antiquated niche dancing. It’s so refreshing to hear you clacking along in unison like sprightly homosexual members of the SS.
I love how you flood into my neighborhood like cute little locusts in your SUV’s. I love how you drive the wrong way down my one-way street. I especially enjoy how you park, right in the middle of two parallel spaces, three feet from the curb.
Last night I was surprised to hear that I lived in a “bad neighborhood.” I’m glad that you, Jeep Grand Cherokee lady (2 feet from the curb) were polite enough to lower your voice as I carried my SIX grocery bags 2 blocks back to my apartment past your Jeep parked in front of my door. Yes, you’re right I do look a little like the “bad elements” you were referring to and God knows that folks who shop at Whole Foods are just a wee bit too close to the edge. I’m sure you were referring to Juan, the waiter at the Mexican restaurant next door, who is surely a rough character. There he was, in his crisp white shirt smoking on the curb on his 10 minute break. He’s from Ballard you know, I’ve heard bad things about those Ballardians. Anyway, it was super sweet of you to drive your friend the one block to her car. Although since I just passed that way I could’ve just told you there was nobody else there.
Oh well.
Anywho, love the legwarmers! I guess I will see you next week.
Love,
Your Neighbor
No comments:
Post a Comment