Commute: Touchpad sliding distance between “jobs” and “free” on Craigslist home page.
House: Seven-person compartment where you debate dream vacation: prison solitary vs. Helen Keller-state.
Appetizer: Gush of scented air from just-opened Ramen Noodle container.
Neighborhood: Radius from “house” crappy bike will travel before shedding back wheel.
Weekend: Blessed, socially-acceptable period for sloth-like state.
Work-out: Repeated touchpad slide between “jobs” and “free” on Craigslist home page.
Health Insurance: Vaguely theoretical reason to remove WebMD from bookmark list.
Television: Object voted “Best snow globe in the apartment” since digital signal changeover.
Lucky day: Last Wednesday, when fire-escape-farming-neighbor left town without picking vine-ripe tomatoes. Score!
Know any Brokelynese yourself? Add to our repertoire in comments. And be sure to help out any uncomprehending tourists wandering the streets.
View Comments (1)
I was wondering who stole my tomatoes. Just be aware that my "fertilizer" was found on the sidewalk. Yes, that was a hint of German Shepherd in your ramen-tomato concoction.