I suited up to run to the store for milk, butter, toilet paper and oranges (a strange recent craving) and when I opened my door I found a bunch of roses on my doorknob!
I realized what an old suspicious New Yorker I am when my first thought was not, "ooooh, how nice! Maybe I have a secret admirer," but, "Who the hell left the front door of the building unlocked so someone can just come upstairs and leave crap at my door?"
The culprit was my downstairs neighbor, who got drunk and thought I'd like them for Easter. I think this must've been a couple nights ago, 'cause they do look a bit depleted. So I dropped 'em into water, stat, hopefully they will revive!
At any rate, I think he really got them for Mambo, who is his buddy when I go away on business. I always fill my fridge with beer so Carlos can hang out with Old PeePants (which is also Sarah Palin's nickname for John McCain, btw) and watch "the good cable."
I'll take it. I honestly can't remember the last time someone gave me flowers other than when my dad died, and those don't really count, do they?
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