Underpants... profit.

If you've looked at more than two posts on this blog, then you know that my frequent topics range from singing to bawdy limericks to Mr. Rogers back to Mindless Self Indulgence, around the corner to sociology and politics, insideout to the English language and how to teach it better, up to photography and down to fiction and poetry, nature.... basically I'm intensely curious about everything right down to why it is that that certain kind of guy just can't seem to keep his shirt on... it's like the "as seen on COPS" fashion movement.

Speaking of "as seen on COPS," in the past week or so, the PO-lice have visited our small apartment building 3 times, twice in the same day because of vandalism and once because our neighbors were having a domestic dispute. And it must be something about the flashing lights, because when the cops pulled in the the guys next door all took off their shirts and came to the windows to say "hey, hey, somethin matter fer down there?"

Though from the trajectory of egg splatter it was clear that the eggs were thrown from his back porch, I decide to play it cool and not say anything accusatory:

"Yeah well someone just egged the cars in our parking lot in broad day light"

"Uh, weel we don't got no eggs and you can check"

Right, I mean they wouldn't have any eggs *NOW* would they?