RIP, Heath Ledger

Me: OMG.

Anonymous Friend:
I know. Heath Ledger is dead.

Me: No – dude, I found the apartment he died in.

A. Friend:

Me: Utilizing the power of the Internets. See?

A. Friend: WHOA.

Me: It must be right up there. Fifth floor. This is so freaky and sad.

A. Friend: I dare you to call up and ask if there are any apartments available.

Seinfeld didn’t seem funny to me until I moved to New York, either. This kind of whistling past the graveyard only really works in a big mean city.

For reals, though, what a sad thing. The latest seems to be that the pills they found with the body were OTC sleep meds.

Published by Jen Hubley Luckwaldt

I'm a freelance writer and editor.

4 thoughts on “RIP, Heath Ledger

  1. Don’t get me started. Me-hee-cans can’t pronounce my name for shit. And then I have to spell it out in espanol, which is not exactly second nature for me. I think I might just change my name to Margarita.

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