My friend Mitch Dilswhistle (not his real name) lives in Boston. Mitch is a shy man who draws no attention to himself at all apart from having flaming red hair.But for some reason he attracts gregarious urban histrionics like free wine draws art students.

This makes the experience of being his roommate truly spectacular…I don’t think we ever had an entire meal on our front porch uninterrupted by some sort of ghetto hijinks.We don’t live together anymore, but I got this letter from him the other day:

Why do drunken homeless people and other miscreants think that I want to party with them? I was waiting for the train yesterday and saw a man in a black and red flannel jacket lurching around way down at the other end of the platform. The train didn’t come. I started reading the newspaper. A few minutes later guess who was sitting next to me, shamelessly reading over my shoulder.

This dude took special interest in Ashlee Simpson’ s Saturday Night Live performance and reenacted the event for everyone who had not seen it. He played the role of the band, Simpson, and himself while watching it.

An ice cold bottle of vodka played the role of the microphone, his dick, and itself. As the train rattled into the station, he closed the show by gargling the word “pan-to-mime.”