Summer arrived in New Orleans just two days before me. I got a text from her that said, "btw I have a piece of info about some of our neighbors. I'm worried you might die." I was like, "what?" and she said, "It's too good. I wanna see your face."
When I arrived, Ashley and Summer took me into our bathroom and had me look out the window. "Over there is the convent. There are real nuns living there." etc. "And, see that pink house? With the green shutters? OK. See that little grey one to the left of it? With the black shutters?..."
She wasn't getting to the point fast enough and so I was like, "who lives there?"
Summer looked into my soul and asked, "who would make you die?"
SHUT THE FRONT DOOR.
I am living less than one block away from the Jolie-Pitts.
I don't even know what to do with this information.
I think Summer was pleased with my reaction, as I hyperventilated and collected myself and then hyperventilated some more. Here is a photo out of our bathroom window. Their house is the little gray one in the center. With the two dormer windows.
I swear I saw Brad watching me go pee last night. What a creep! (Just kidding. They're not home.)
Here's a picture of the front of their house, which I walk by every morning and every night when I go to and from my car. I stole it from another website, since I will not be caught dead photographing their place (in the open). I only keep my face straight ahead while my eyes stare the whole way by, looking for signs of life.
|Photo stolen from bittenandbound.com|
If you know me, you know that I think of Brad and Angelina as personal friends and frequently have daydreams of running into their family by Lake Nokomis in Minneapolis, asking them "what are you doing in town?" and then inviting them over for dinner. Of course they come. In my imagination, we laugh and talk. The kids get a kick out of my made-up-on-the-spot poop songs, such as Fishing in the Toilet for Poop and Pee.
LOOKS LIKE MY DREAMS ARE ABOUT TO COME TRUE, FOLKS.