Sinking balls
Thursday, October 19, 2006
This is how I spend a lot of my time - putting my stolen driving range balls, with my brand new Ping putter, into four foam holes that cost me two dollars at Sears.
But that's not why I'm writing tonight.
Here's the deal: the interior walls of our apartment are made of dry prefab, just like 99% of the houses in North America. And we have this dude that lives above us. We call him "Thumper" for good reason. This boy and his nympho girlfriend must be half rabbit, half triathlete cos they go humpity hump all day, all night. And we can hear the thumping through the walls. He actually keeps us up at night sometimes.
Anyway, there I was surfing the net, while Thumper was at it for the fifth time that night, when all his thumping made my putter, which was leaning against the wall, fall right over, and knock the lamp over!!! You don't believe me, right? Fuck, I don't believe me, but it happened. Seh-ree-us!
But that's not why I'm writing tonight.
Here's the deal: the interior walls of our apartment are made of dry prefab, just like 99% of the houses in North America. And we have this dude that lives above us. We call him "Thumper" for good reason. This boy and his nympho girlfriend must be half rabbit, half triathlete cos they go humpity hump all day, all night. And we can hear the thumping through the walls. He actually keeps us up at night sometimes.
Anyway, there I was surfing the net, while Thumper was at it for the fifth time that night, when all his thumping made my putter, which was leaning against the wall, fall right over, and knock the lamp over!!! You don't believe me, right? Fuck, I don't believe me, but it happened. Seh-ree-us!