It’s January 3 and I’m still here! I managed to get through the holidays (actually Christmas, my birthday, and New Year’s Eve…aka the Trilogy Of Stress) without doing anything drastic. I don’t really get those thoughts, at least not often enough to be concerned. And I’m not much for resolutions at midnight. One, I’m already asleep and I’ll be damned if I’m going to drag my ass out of bed just to testify to a mirror that I’ll lose weight next year. Two, my resolution is ongoing; to get out of this revolving door of uncertainty. It’s like the worst game of Let’s Make A Deal ever. Wayne Brady allows me to choose a door and it’s always a Zonk. “Rick, behind door number 2 was a development deal with the OWN Network, worth $500,000! But let’s see what you chose instead…Aw it’s another week, MAYBE, in the Santa Ana Motor Lodge. Your stay includes dirty sheets, restless sleep until a police raid next door wakes you, and insects you didn’t even know existed. Thanks for playing.” Continue reading “A Random Act Of Kindness”
Question for God: How come pubes never get split ends?
Traditionally I have worn my hair closely cropped (think of a tennis ball after about 10-12 sets) or completely bald. Of course this wasn’t by choice. I believe it was Karma repaying me for succumbing to a most ridiculous fashion trend; getting a tight, white-guy perm in the early 80’s.
I smoke. It’s perhaps my only remaining vice. I don’t really count swearing as a vice, and who the fuck does anyway? I digress. Invariably I’m asked 6-10 times per day for a cigarette, and I always shake my head “no”. Cigs are up to $11/pack in CA, and if I’m giving one to every guy who asks, I’ll never make my daily nut, because I’m spending an extra $11 on a second pack of smokes.
Here’s what I noticed about people who are asked for a cigarette. They already know whether or not they have smokes on them, but still they’ll fumble around their pockets before finally answering, “Sorry, I don’t”. The re-enactment rivals anything done by Ben Affleck or anyone else, and it’s almost as if there was an Oscar at stake. “The Academy Award For Searching Your Pockets While Pretending To Look For A Cigarette You Know Goddamn Well You Aren’t Going To Give In A Dramatic Role goes to…..opens envelope and pauses…Jim!” Along those same lines I like the guy who is bumming the smoke who, after getting denied, challenges the other guy because he noticed a pocket wasn’t searched. “Oh yeah? Well how about THAT pocket!” I can’t see that move achieving the desired result. Ever. In all of history. Continue reading “Bumming Smokes And Other Nonsense”
I stood in the parking lot. Overhead I saw seagulls and other scavengers flying in a circular motion. I immediately took out my phone and used it to check my pulse…just in case they knew something I didn’t.
Yes, today is my birthday. 365 days have passed and I didn’t die of causes natural, unnatural, or self-inflicted. Whee! To this homeless guy, birthdays, like any other celebratory day (i.e. Christmas, 4th Of July, etc.) are days I wish would pass quickly. I don’t really have anything to celebrate, and even if I did, no money to do so. I will work my ass off today in hopes I can make enough to keep my motel room another night. I can say this; New Year’s Eve won’t be spent with a drink (I don’t drink), sparklers, or a midnight kiss, because NYE is when hotels (and for some reason…motels) jack the shit out of their rates knowing many tourists visit LA/OC to ring in the new year. So a big shout-out and fuck you to Conrad and Maggie from Elko, NV for doing their small part to change my motel rate from $60 to $139. Love ya kids!
But I digress. Continue reading “On Birthdays”
Every day I attend the world’s worst amusement park. Imagine if you’re in line for the Ferris Wheel. You look up and notice one of the cars has a loose lap bar. It breaks free and falls, scattering the patrons below. The guy in the car has slipped out and is now hanging from the disgusting metal plate which usually serves as a footrest. You see the ride operator, newly released from his third stint in rehab. Instead of slowing the ride down, he speeds it up, all the while laughing maniacally. And you think to yourself*, “Yeah, I’ll jump on that; two for the death trap please”.
That…is the 2001 Camry. And I rely on it much as a traveler might rely on a scatter-brained friend to remember to pick him up at the airport. Continue reading “My Personal Amusement Park”
I’m so poor my online banking password is the laughing emoticon 😆
When you’re homeless you check your bank balance…frequently, as in 6-10 times each day. Why? Well, because it’s likely you have just enough to cover your room or food, and you want to ensure some douchetube didn’t do an auto-debit while you were sleeping, throwing your entire existence into even more disarray. Rarely do I put my head down for the night with more than $10 or $15 left in my account. But it does provide an adrenaline rush when I open my eyes at 5 AM and see an overdraft notification because my GoDaddy hosting was charged. A planned visit to Starbucks has now become a strategy session rivaling any military war room, just to figure out how and when I’ll be able to eat. Continue reading “Bank Accounts”