BEST. NEIGHBOR. EVAR.

There’s always a lot of competition for BEST. NEIGHBOR. EVAR, of course.  When you were ten, there was that guy that used to whistle while jingling change, and he eventually wore a hole in all his pockets. Boom! Ice-cream-man money up and down his driveway, all the time. That guy was pretty sweet. Then there was that dude that had a stack of Playboys in his bathroom next to the crapper. That was pretty good. There was that guy that put down a plastic liner and flooded the back yard so we could all play hockey. He even put up lights. That guy was like a god. Not the God, but a god, surely. 

Then there was that guy with the hot wife who was always vacuuming in the nude and didn’t have any drapes. Wait, that came out wrong. Pronoun trouble. The guy didn’t vacuum naked, his wife did. And I meant to say that the house didn’t have drapes. The wife had drapes. I guess. I’m not sure she had a head or a face or anything. Anyway, that was a pretty good neighbor. But this guy is the BEST. NEIGHBOR. EVAR.

[Thanks to faithful reader and friend Sam for sending that one along. He’s the BEST. READER. EVAR. At least for today]