there was some poor man named Harry "Dick" Allen in my hometown that generations of kids terrorized. Like wouldn't he eventually have an unlisted number? Perhaps he enjoyed or got off on the attention, I don't know.
Yesterday I was smoking a cigar on my porch, when the neighbors mexican crew building the patio on the back of their addition spoke to me. In spanish. Luckily he used hand gestures so I got the point that he wanted to temporarily use part of my yard for staging of the travertine and have room to maneuver the equipment.
I didn't understand a single word he said, just nodded yes.
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