Friday, March 16, 2007


This afternoon, I was innocently walking to the corner to mail some
paychecks; I was NOT walking to the corner to...well, stand on the

Apparently the bum walking by my workplace thought it
was the latter, because as he swung around sloppily to eyeball my shit,
I returned his drunken gaze with my customary, how dare you even...burning glare of hatred.

(Actually, that's just my face. My mother always told me it would stick this way.)

Ghetto Bro then proceeds to go OFF.

I usually try not to listen when crazies start ranting, but I was simply trying to get back into my illustrious place of work, not thirty feet away, without being molested. However:

Whatchoo don lookin' at? Don' act like you neva seen a brotha. Don' nobody want choo. I like 'em BLACK. I like 'em BLACK. Don' nobody want choo.

I actually smiled, because, the fuck? Who even asked him?! Jesus, like I need this from a homeless person. Cripes. Racist derelict.

I am now thinking I should have reacted by:

-driving by him and chucking a rock-hard, green St. Patrick's donut at his head (the sprinkles sting!!)

-responding with my own racist diatribe on how I don't exactly like his kind
either, on account of how he never shuts UP; besides, their massive members would make my "vazhïn hang like sleeve of wizard's robe" - Borat by way of Depthmarker

-begging him PLEEEZE to have me, I want him soooo bad, I need to spread for him in his cardboard box underneath the highway overpass; I long to pull down his soiled, saggy pants and deeply inhale the smell of used needles and poo while a broken bottle knives me in the back and I simultaneously contract hepatitis and fleas.

Going forward, I'm going to dispatch one of the guys to mail the mail.

Jesus F*ck.


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