The person who lives next to the Golfer (who lives next to Supergenius HQ who lives next to the Native American Drummers) is a used car salesman and he likes to host parties in his garage, a garage he never parks in, a garage located a mere 20 feet from my bedroom window.

I know he’s a used car salesman for two reasons:
1.) Memorial Day weekend he had a party where a high number of individuals appeared wearing t-shirts about the HUGE DODGE TENT EVENT
2.) Last night as I was falling asleep/eavesdropping I heard someone say, and I quote, “I fucking sold a Chrysler Sebring today.” I could not tell from his tone of voice whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.
3.) There was also an argument about a Cadillac, this was not a good thing because I could tell from the voices that they were angry.

They generally drink a lot of Lite beer and listen to old 70s rock (witness a few weekends ago when they decided to play “Don’t Fear the Reaper” three times in a row). However, last night, for unknown reasons they listened to annoying R&B with a lot of bass. I waited to be shaken from my bed ala Fred Flintstone by the booming.

It didn’t happen, because I woke up at 7 a.m. this morning delightfully rested. Oh yes, my body has decided that waking up between 7 and 7:30 a.m. is a perfectly good thing to do. I blame it on the birds.