Run? Like Hell!

Today, we have the tragic tale of a boy cut down in his prime. Not by a murderer, like many of the other stories here at NeighborGoodies, but by three of the most self-destructive traits known to man. They are, in order of t-shirt appearance: Athleticism....

...Good Will...

...and, worst of all, Education.


What in the world could possibly possess a young man, seemingly with limitless potential, to throw is life away by working hard to get into shape, and then competing not only in "fun runs" such as Nike's Run Hit Wonder (featuring Tone Loc and Devo!), but in "Charity" events like the "Run for the Zoo" for Chicago's Lincoln Park? And then, after spending time in Chicago on these fruitless exercises, to then move to LA, live in Luxury in the Hollywood Hills and join up with the UCLA Track Team? Where does this jerk get off?

Helping people? An Education? Fitness? Where is that gonna land you? I'll tell you where in three words and one picture:


The E/R.

Ok, so that's one word and two letters. And a backslash. But you get the point. Clearly, this guy's flagrant showboating eventually caught up with him as he punctured both his ankles during one of his cockamamie workout routines.

So, I'm pretty sure the lesson here is: Stay out of school, eat some cupcakes and be selfish... and you will continue to live a normal, healthy existence.

You're welcome.

Re-Tired

There's a guy in the building who, for the last six years, has been coughing up lung after lung directly into the courtyard morning, noon and night. This man, clearly suffering either from emphysema or tuburculosis, has a very specific, almost musical coughing pattern: It starts off with one cough, then a small series of coughs occur, each increasing in intensity and viscosity before finally flourishing with a mucous-filled gag-crescendo.

While I've never seen or met this man, I do get upset when Ol' Chokey quiets down, which will happen often for weeks or months at a time. I start to think about what might have happened to him. Are his windows just closed? Or is he in the hospital on his death bed? Maybe he's already perished! Of course, he could be in Hawaii sipping rum out of a coconut for all I know. Whatever the reason, just when I think he's gone forever, his cough resurfaces--no better or worse than before. It's oddly reassuring to know that this fragile old man is still somehow cheating death after smoking for what must be 85 years.

But with the arrival of this NeighborGoodie, I fear Chokey may be gone forever:

I haven't heard his infectious cough for weeks now and the only clue left behind is this literature from the Sunrise Senior Living retirement community, which has hundreds of locations around the world.

As far as old age homes go, this place seems pretty nice. According to their website, they encourage independent lifestyles for their customers, including this wacky gentleman:

So if you're a crazy old person who likes to wear bucket hats, then this is the place for you! But I fear Chokey's children may have banished him to this home while leaving behind some of his more unique items, like this t-shirt...
...which I cannot figure out for the life of me:
Clearly, it is depicting some sort of underwater scene... but I'll be damned if I know what the crap it is. Sometimes it looks to me like a whale with a whole in it. Or it could be a scuba diver bent in half, wearing suspenders while trying to untangle himself from seaweed. Or it might even be a picture of Ol' Chokey himself, possibly wearing these rubber boots:

...although judging by the crust level on them, they haven't seen a drop of water in... ever.
Well, no matter where Chokey is, be it in the Sunrise Retirement home for the Sunset of his life or underwater tangled up in seaweed, or even dead and buried--he's still better off than those of us living in this hell-hole building Luxury in the Hollywood Hills.

Good Time Women

Housewives and gay men everywhere love Martha Stewart. I personally don't see the appeal, as I find her a little bit... forceful with her unique brand of OCD.

For example, if you are in the studio audience for her syndicated talk show, you might be treated to a piece of swag with the "MARTHA" logo on it. Most shows will hand you a balled up t-shirt that you'd stick in your pocket or massive 1980's purse:

...but when you go to see Martha, she passively aggressively suggests that you fold it neatly, her way, by attaching the Martha-approved: "How to Fold a T-shirt" instruction manual to each of her gifts:
Her entire empire seems to be based upon the motto "Do it my way, or fail!" Anyone foolish enough to unwrap the t-shirt in front of her will immediately be seized and placed in a brainwashing chamber filled with Lemon Pledge fumes and reruns of Martha Stewart Living until she becomes a t-shirt folding , cupcake decorating housewife zombie.

I hesitate to think what Martha might do if she saw the stained NeighborGoodies table, in all its unfolded T-shirt glory:

Whatever her reaction, I can guarantee it will not be good times.