"Where's the moke!" she yelled, frustrated

"Where's the moke!" she yelled, frustrated by the youngsters inattention to her needs. "When Larissa was here I always had the moke, or anything else I needed."

"Moke," was her "Mocha-Latte." She'd been in Starbuck's so long she had her own zany coffee-slang. Frappacino was "Al Pacino." That became "Scarface," then "Face," then "A-Team"

It was hell being in line behind her. All I want is a tall bold, $165 and out the door. I resolved to take action. The next morning, I hid behind the dumpster as she

made for the food line. It was already queuing up to Gorky Prospect and she wanted to before me in line, no doubt,. so she could make snide remarks about my counterrevolutionary

beret worn backwards or horn in on my personal supply of potato vodka. I told her to hit the bricks in no uncertain terms. Boy, she didn't like that. I thought I'd seen the last of

her. But, she was a literal-minded gal and knocked a hole into my brick wall. Now, if you stand in the kitchen and face the living room, you can see into her adjacent apartment.

Which is a really magnificent view, I don't mind telling you. When she watches TV, sometimes I can even see the characters on the screen from my apartment; but there's nothing

on worth watching. I made a remote control for her television. Now when I see her through my telescope, I click it so she has to walk over and turn the TV on again, as well as me.

Sometimes I cry at the meaninglessness of this life. Depending on a woman in a room 80 yards away to turn me on. And off. And on again. What a waste! The saddest thing is, she does

n't even realize that I have a soul. I have feelings. I have brilliant ideas. But a light switch has no mouth and cannot share its thoughts. What a meaningless existence indeed.