Where's the QUEESH, WOMAN?! "It's spelled quiche...., honey"

So, Atara made queesh about 6 hrs ago (read days), *I want a kitchen already i hate HATE kelly's oven* and we're still waiting for it to finish cooking.  Mind you, this delicious *DELICIOUS* broccoli confection is cooking in our fleishig oven in one of the Washington Terrace shanties, so it takes awhile.  Everyone knows you can't cook queesh with tin foil, *honey, it's spelled quiche* but that's what we have to do.  She says we're getting places and it might be done *except there's still a lake in the middle of it, just to taunt me*.  

On another note...Socrates my landlord (Sparadakys) has yet to fix the leak in my roof.  He's fat and Greek *racist? fat has nothing to do with being greek, ahem jennifer aniston ahem*, and may I recommend that he start eating Chobani fat free Greek yogurts?  They are delicious. *maybe if he likes them he'll get you an umbrella to sleep under, rather than you buying one yourself*.  Mr. Benisz (with a z) got me into them.  

Atara is a peeping tom (and will probably edit this).  She's staring intently at the shirtless man across the street.  She can't tear her eyes away. Look at the queesh! It's shirtless too!  *i'm just trying to understand! does he not know we can see him so clearly?! should we hang up a sign that says 'if you can see this just know that it works both ways'?! and really, some people should keep shirts on at all times.  although kelly probably would just say 'he's greek.'*