Last night Allison and I were driving home from York County, reminiscing about our old apartment. We miss our old aparment. Our new one smells funny all the time.
We remembered how we put up our Christmas tree on Robbie’s birthday last year while we cooked him dinner and baked him a cake. We remembered our “roommate date” to Shula’s 347 and the day we picked Robbie up from the airport after one of his trips out in the field for work. We remembered the night we had a dance party on our kitchen counter.
Then we remembered how we always used to find cool shit in the trash area – furniture, lamps, mirrors, etc. – so we decided to pull into our old apartment complex and take a peek.
Then we remembered how those bitches kicked us out and how miserable they made us.
So, we pulled up to the office and stole the crappy Christmas wreath that was hanging on their front door.
Serves you right, Banyan Grove. If you bitches want your wreath back, you can come get it off our living room wall.