Anonymous Friend: I know. Heath Ledger is dead.
Me: No – dude, I found the apartment he died in.
A. Friend: What?
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.