The wretched little town where I formed most of the sick and twisted thoughts that plague me to this day

17 Summerhill Street - formerly the second highest house in Stoneham

Knees don't come any sexier...

I don't remember anything from the first seven or so years of my life except that once, while on the much anticipated summer holiday, I got sick. We were staying in a structurally crooked house in New Hampshire. I don't remember anything else...at least, not willingly.

Stoneham is a classic underachieving town on the outskirts of Boston, populated entirely by steroid gobbling Italians, who drive around in bitchin' Camaros and to a man have gold bull horn necklaces, and Irish, who are miserable because they have to drive Chevy Novas and Monte Carlos.

In the 70's, Stoneham was in the Guiness Book of World Records for having the most gas stations along a one-mile strip. It was also featured in the movie "The Brink's Job" with Peter Falk because there is this police box in the center of the square dating from the 20's- that is, there was this police box until a drunk driver took it out in the 80's.

In 1998, my parents sold the house I grew up in. Within a blink of an eye, I realized that there was no longer any reason to return to Stoneham. Some swamis train for decades to achieve Nirvana, my inner peace came with the signing of a mortgage.