last night, i met a bona fide, previously unmet neighbor. he looked like moby. i looked like a madam.
moby came a'knocking not one minute after i emerged from a bubble bath. contactless and peering through the elvin peephole, i mistook him for the bombshell and greeted him at the door with my hair in a beehive and my self in a leopard-print bathrobe. a robe with a proclivity for flying open and revealing scandalous amounts of red bra.
in an effort to conceal these containment inadequacies, i mimicked a move beloved by trollops the world over and leaned wantonly against the door frame at precisely the moment that a nauseating wave of "woman in yellow" wafted heavily by on the breeze. moby took a hasty step back, bracing against the onslaught of femininity.
apparently water was leaking into moby's bathroom. he had come to see if there was a flood. there wasn't. there had simply been a bath.
as he turned to go, he said, by the way, i'm moby.
hi, i'm heidi fleiss.