too funny
It is going to become apparent very quickly that this isn’t the place for high-brow literature so let’s just do this. For about a year now, I’ve been living in Silicon Valley, a place of external smiles and internal organs covered in a shit storm of stress. The friendliest people in my neighborhood are the elderly couple who bring us cucumbers. They told us our house was formally “the drug house” and had a suicide. Yay. Second place goes to the Germans across the street. I assume they’re German because they invited us to a sausage party or something at their house once and they have accents. Third place for the guy next door. His property is a little worn but he’s quiet, rarely home and smokes weed in the backyard which causes the elderly couple to worry a lot. Until I got my medical marijuana card, I used to…
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