The Talking House
If you’re like me, you don’t drive by talking houses everyday. So when I saw this sign, I pulled over and tuned into AM1610 to find out what the house had to say.
As it turns out, 1511 N. Mohawk has a deep voice (probably on account of its brick frame) and cracks dumb jokes about how he’d love to see a couple of lesbians move in.
Oh – wait. No. That would have been a really great sales pitch. Instead, a realtor talks on and on about the cathedral this and granite that. He doesn’t even pretend to be a house.
Don’t these guys know anything about marketing?
My neigboors have a talking house too.
Eh, my neighbor’s house? Not so much with the talking. More bass-thumping sounds, crashing beer bottles into the dumpster behind my place at 4am, and occasional regurgitation of pissed-off one night stand chicks.
oh. yeah. sorry about that.
Hey Tom, while you’re trying to earn my neighborly forgiveness, do you think you could get your drunk buddies to stop pissing on the back wall of my house?
Gracias! :)