Why Lie?

I was toggling back and forth between the east and west side of town yesterday via public transit enjoying the Cinemas Canned Food Festival. It's really too bad if you missed it. Several theater chains across America were offering free movies in exchange for 3 cans of food. I definitely optimized my viewing pleasure.

On one such trip on the train a man entered carrying a sign: "Why Lie? Need Beer?" Apparently though, beer was not something that he needed because not only was he headed to Skidmore Fountain to score some wicked awesome weed, but he was fully intoxicated already. It's just my opinion, but I think perhaps a good idea may have been to detox before the next downing session.

In any event, he sat next to me - of course. It's not like the train was nearly empty. Actually, he sat across from me, and his younger apprentice sat next to me. I was reading my book, so naturally they interrupted. Well,... I can't escape all the blame. I made the mistake of looking up at him. His speech was so slurred, I admit, I could not help myself. There sat a squat little man dirty skinned and stinky lacking a proper balance of hormones to enable growth of a full beard. Evidently, my face signaled: "Welcome All Conversation! Intelligible Or Not!"

Then he winked. Er, blinked, but as he thought he was winking and had the intention of winking we'll call it that. I immediately averted my eyes.

"Did you hear that?"

I ignore.

"Hey... did you hear that?"

I smiled in the upside down frown sort of way that I've managed to perfect over the past year that screams talk to me again and I'll punch you in the nuts.

His friend said, "Yeah man, she heard you." And adds to me, "Sorry, he's a little drunk."

Oh really, I couldn't tell. At which point winky stood up and heralded his sign for everyone to see, I suppose in the hopes of earning a little green.

Give it Up

I was walking with the pooches on a typically singular, forested trail in the middle of the city. We felt a bit adventurous, and because we had walked this trail an irregular number of times, we decided to check out all the side diversions along the path.

Now, supposedly this trail goes on and on and on for many several miles yet I have never been able to find the continuation of this trail after a certain point. Today just as we were nearing the point of confusion, I found a tributary of the main path.

Remember that publication I was telling you about, provided to and for the hobo's of this fair city to sell for profit? In a recent issue there was an article discussing a new bill passing through congress about providing the bums with camping spots throughout the city. (I won't go into this.....)

I'm kind of giving away the ending, but yes, off the path was a couple of vagrants - camping. I was a bit surprised and shocked, not expecting this little present of course. I wish now that I had continued on to see if the trail continued, but I actually thought that I shouldn't interrupt them!! Due to this lapse in judgment I have no further details to offer, except that their smell did precede the actual visual.

Crack Purchase

First off, if you are reading my blog via Google Reader - that's awesome! but you are missing all the fun. Go to my page to participate in a real time poll; humor me, please...

I was having dinner with a couple friends, well only one was my personal friend, but I like to think I have more than one friend so let's just go with the whole "friends" idea. I mean it's novel enough just to be having dinner with someone other than my old man so let me have my pipe dream.

We were sitting in a booth next to an open window, adjacent to several tables where upon several groups were enjoying, I assume, as good a meal as my black and tan brownie. Stumbling his way down the block comes, none other than a drunk or high or both bumbling bum. He interrupted the first group of people he encountered:

"Uh, heeeeyyyyy man... yuuuh, can I snag a cig from youuuu?" he muttered.

The man reached across the table and produced a filthy black stick of tar. Here.

"Ooooh wow man. Heeere, leemmme give youuu a quarterr," he slurred accepting the offering.

The man said nothing, gestured nothing, but ignored the vagrant and attempted to continue his conversation.

"Okayyyy, whatevvver."

He paused. "Wannnt some craack?"

Seriously? Want some crack? Don't hold anything back hobo.

This is where it gets better. About an hour later we were venturing back to our car, and the rascal was holding post on the corner where my vehicle was parked: selling newspapers. Now, this is not uncommon in this fair city. Our city produces a local newspaper, sold for a $1, for the express purpose of giving the homeless a job. The hobo keeps $0.75 and the consumer gets to keep themselves abreast of the going ons in the homeless community. It's a win win.

Except this crack fiend wasn't selling the hobo news. He was selling the free local newspaper that he pulled out of the dispenser on the very corner he was stationed.

Screaming Rants

"Whooooo hhhheeeea aaaahhhiiiii ddddduuuuuu! Eeeeekkkkkk lllllllaaaaa looooooo ffiiiiii feeeeeee foooooo offffffummmmm! Boooo bbaaaaa bleeeeeee nnnnntttttiiiiiiiii aaaaakkkkkkk wwwwwppppppppsssssssskkk! Buy me a cheeseburger!"

"Shut-up! I ain't buying you a cheeseburger."

"WOMAN! I said get me a cheeseburger!"

"Garble, gruntle." Insert dirty glare. "I SAID, 'I AIN'T BUYING YOU A CHEESEBURGER!"

"Boooo bbaaaaa bleeeeeee nnnnntttttiiiiiiiii aaaaakkkkkkk wwwwwppppppppsssssssskkk! Whooooo hhhheeeea aaaahhhiiiii ddddduuuuuu! Eeeeekkkkkk lllllllaaaaa looooooo ffiiiiii feeeeeee foooooo offffffummmmm! Buy me a CHEESEBURGER you stupid bleep.

Our McDonalds has a walk through. It's like a drive through, but for bums without a car. This night it was for a crazy, bra-less, saggy, toothless bum.

Her petitioner was dancing around in the driveway of the drive through exit. I heard the preceding exchange as I was waiting for my meal. Actually my husbands meal that I was taking to him as I picked him up for work because I refuse to eat at McDonalds (for the record).

The petitioner was performing a dance for me, and I didn't dare honk at him. I didn't dare because he was violently drunk, and my windows were rolled down. I calculated that the amount of time it would take me to get my windows rolled up was not sufficient enough to thwart an attack. Had I rolled my windows up without taunting the decrepit hobo, it would surely have elicited an attack just the same.

In fact, me sitting there; patiently waiting, seemed to taunt him enough. And he certainly didn't appreciate the fact that my dogs were barking at him out the window.

He pattered around there, dancing for an interminable amount of time, jumping off to the side, out of the way, but only to jump right back in front of my car immediately thereafter. Staring at me with his bug eyes, flinging his head forward in my direction and opening his mouth so wide I thought another head would pop out at any moment. It was deeply disturbing and unsettling.

Another bummy was curled up on the patch of soil surrounding the sidewalk tree, while another bummy came walking from around the other side of Mc's.

"What the bleep are you doing? Dancing?" That's how I figured out he was dancing, by the way.

"Shut the bleep up. I'll do what I want."

Then he started screaming, or should I say, resumed screaming.

"Whooooo hhhheeeea aaaahhhiiiii ddddduuuuuu! Eeeeekkkkkk lllllllaaaaa looooooo ffiiiiii feeeeeee foooooo offffffummmmm, bleeeeeee nnnnntttttiiiiiiiii. Boooo bbaaaaa bleeeeeee nnnnntttttiiiiiiiii aaaaakkkkkkk wwwwwppppppppsssssssskkk! Whooooo hhhheeeea aaaahhhiiiii ddddduuuuuu! Eeeeekkkkkk lllllllaaaaa looooooo ffiiiiii feeeeeee foooooo offffffummmmm."

But what was shockingly impressive was that he kept up the dancing and flinging of the head, and disturbing opening of the mouth too. I'm always surprised at how limber and coordinated these drunks can be.

Let's conduct a poll. Was it intentional coordination, or freaky uncontrolled spasms? Rock the vote!