Bah-bah-bah BAH-BAH, Bah-bah-bah BAH-BAH!

First off, don't ever watch The Good Shepherd. You must trust me. It was 3 hours long, everyone was whispering the whole time, and there was a piano going DOO-doo-DOO-doo-DOO-doo-DOO-doo in what I can only assume was intended to be a creepy suspense building manner for roughly 70% of the film. It was the first movie since Punch Drunk Love that I have seriously considered quitting on in the middle, and I watched Bubba Ho-Tep less than a year ago.

The new place is pretty fantastic. My only complaint is the estimated 16 Mexicans living in the apartment above us. They are forever doing their traditional hat dance at all hours of the night, yelling "Ariba, ariba! Soy Mexicano!" and sacrificing virgins to Buluc Chabtan. No, they really do stomp a lot, but I have decided to play the part of the horrendously racist white guy since it was revealed, and this is sadly and humiliatingly true, that I can't tell any of the upstairs residents apart. Lizett kept saying things like "Good LORD how many people live in that apartment??" to which I'd smile and nod and privately assume she was losing her mind because I thought all the people walking by were the same two guys.

Now to be fair, I am not widely noted for paying attention to things, and if there had been a bunch of white dudes living upstairs with identical builds, haircuts, and moustaches, I wouldn't have noticed they were distinct individuals either, but I am here to tell you when you are dating a Hispanic woman and it is suddenly revealed that you are unable to detect any difference between your Mexican neighbors, things get real awkward real fast. I had to take off my pants to keep from hyperventilating. Everyone besides the Corby's crew may ignore the previous sentence.

So we finally went up there around 11:30 one night to ask them to tether the horse they clearly had galloping around in their living room, only to be greeted at the door by something much worse: a three year old boy. Suddenly the stomping became abundantly clear. Now this begs the question, what the hell is a 3 year old child doing up at 11:30, and why the hell are his parents letting him jump up and down in the middle of the night in a top floor apartment, but in the moment I can assure you both Lizett and I felt like total chodes. I threw dirt in the child's eyes and we fled into the night.

Finally, LB, since this is my only contact with you, guess who my new neighbor is? ShineCindy. No shit.