I have discovered that by using a very long straw, I can drink soda from my neighbor’s apartment.
I went to a prostitute, but she wouldn’t have sex with me. Then I went to another prostitute, and she also wouldn’t have sex with me. Eventually, every prostitute in New York turned me down.
“Why won’t you sleep with me?” I asked the last prostitute.
“You don’t need sex,” she said. “You need a farm.”
I started to worry about my garbage. Maybe I was throwing out something other people wanted. So, before I discarded it, I went around my building asking my neighbors if they wanted my garbage.
Three people took eggshells, and one man took coffee grounds.
“You should’ve thought of this long ago!” one of my neighbors said.
My wife and I built a summer house in Central Park. For $180,000, we erected a two-story chalet next to a stream, near 102d Street. We spent one night in it. The next day the police came, demolished the house, and carried away the pieces.
“That was a stupid idea,” my wife said.
“It was a lovely night,” I said.