Tuesday, June 8, 2010


Among those who know me I am regarded a great teller of stories. I tell fantastic stories about such entertaining times as when I found a chair on the street, and when I fell asleep unexpectedly. Their simple elegance reveals the self-evident truths of the universe. Here is such a story:

In my apartment building the buzzers and mailboxes don't correspond to the apartments, so everyone took to simply writing their names on the mailboxes, and now we get our mail. I wasn't the first to do this, but I was second, and mine have awesome animals. They also get knocked off periodically, because my particular box has the master lock the mail-gentleman (or lady) uses to give us all our mail at once, and I guess he's in a hurry sometimes and my label comes off.

So I switch my guy up, cause they get crumpled and why not go for variety?

This guy's gotten a little chewed up, see.

This guy's next in line maybe. By seniority at least...

Except this guy will actually get my business mail to me.

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