also, it's pretty sad that lately i find nothing funny, except that every time i read my own diary i laugh at myself until i get pains right under the left side of my rib cage:
the following had me in stitches.
my cell phone is on the fritz. it's hot out. i can hear my upstairs neighbors fighting and their children crying. i can't tell what they're saying because it's hard to translate a jamaican accent when it's spitting mad. and my new neighbors must have a bird. it makes these crazy noises that sound almost like a baby, but NOT. i mean, what else could it be? it drive us sort of mad. it really goes all out too. it knocks itself out seeing what kind of crazy noise it can squeak out whenever someone passes their door. for some reason i picture it to have the body of a lovebird and the face of don knots. probably because i'm insane. and also because i'm just a low-brow humorist. my wit is shot. i'll be the first to admit it. i have to dig low to get funnies nowadays.