I want to live here.
Of course it's all fine and dandy when it's beautiful and sunny then night falls and all of a sudden you're in one of those houses with a panic room and a guy who wants the disc with the account numbers of the drug kingpins I've been working for and I'm not really that good at finding things in fact just today I locked both sets of car keys in my car both so then Bruce Willis has to come rescue you and the thing is I saw his last movie and I really did not enjoy it so I'm assuming I wouldn't enjoy this either (totally kidding Bruce come over any time) and just then robber-man sets himself on fire ya know to get your attention cuz who can pay attention when Bruce is in the room (he gets 1 million dollars a day you know) would he accept a hard drive instead of a floppy cuz I have one that's pink and covered in crystals if he's secure enough in his manhood and everything and the thing is burn marks are SO hard to get out of white carpet.
So I don't want to live here.
I want to live exactly where I live because I left my keys (they apparently hate me and are trying to flee on their own) in the outside door lock all night last week and everyone was so aware I had nothing valuable that no one even attempted to ransack the place.
What's the moral of this stream of consciousness?
Mo' money Mo' problems
Bruce... call me!