This is an old story, but one about hobo's and downtown nonetheless.
We were pulling in one night, to the parking spot we shared with the dumpsters, to find a common man rifling through our coveted bins.
As if there is a question as to what this hobo is working on, I ask, "What are you doing?"
He probably said something unintelligible like, "uheeisondrr" or stupid like, "Collecting awesome used bottles," but I don't remember because after I told him to leave because this was our parking spot and not his bedroom he said:
"First I have to go the bathroom."
This is the point where I explain that at the time we were driving this complete piece of crap, but at times I miss that little crappy car. There is something to be said for a junker car that you don't have to worry about. But the point being that the trunk in this heap o'trash didn't exactly close in the traditional sense of the word.
As, yes as, he is doing his business he follows up with, "Nice car..." snickering.
I respond, wittily I might add, "Yeah... I'm really concerned about your opinion when you don't even have a 'real' bathroom to use."
That touched a nerve. He started hollering about how I can't talk to him like that and continued his tirade as he skulked, slinking away and as soon as he was safely away from us he shouted out his verbal personal insults to me.
Well, that touched a nerve with my man. He shouted at him, "If you ever talk to my wife like that again I will shove that beer bottle so far up your ass you won't be able to breathe ever again."
A new thing - I started a new thing where I relay my husband's strong opinions about consumer products. It's called Justin's Opinions. So far there are posts about coffee...
3 days ago