I do not exaggerate when I say it is horrifying to learn that you have been caught dancing — and I mean freak dancing complete with the white man’s overbite and finger snapping — in your underwear singing Stevie Wonder’s I Wish at the top of your lungs. I know this because after I had made it through the first chorus, I was executing my best stocking feet double spin move only to fall short at one and a half revolutions stopping in precisely the right position to see my building Super staring right back at me. I’ve never seen him move that fast. He bolted down the stares as though HE had been caught doing something wrong when, really, who wouldn’t watch a free freak show?
This was so much worse than my chiropractor visit. I was immobile; rooted permanently in humiliation. I could only manage to scream, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!”
That’s the last time I open my windows . . . EVER. In fact, I’m never stepping foot outside of my apartment again. Kozmo come back.
Sing with me folks:
I wish those days could come back once more
Why did those days ev-er have to go?