Suitcase Yields Possible Beatles Trove
Horribly wack. Mr. Jerry has decreed that even though I cleaned out the garage for the purposes of rockin' real hard, he doesn't want to hear it from the second floor. In a cold Footloose fashion, he has ordered the drums out and banned rocking (and visitors) from the garage that he himself wouldn't visit (or clean) a week ago. This is a rockblock of the highest proportions. Maybe I can use my cleaning efforts as a bargaining chip to get his snoring Libyan arse off our couch and into his bedroom, where he belongs.