To start off with, here is the funniest thing I have ever read.
Hobophobia: The 5 Vagrants Who Ruined My Psyche
Towards the end, I was actually crying from laughing so hard. It felt awesome, I haven't laugh like that for awhile. But seriously. This article is one of the greatest things ever. Ian Fortey is now one of my top favourite Cracked columnists. He also made this, which is hilarious if you're up on your columnists.
I too, have had my own share of mind scarring hobo-incidents. One time, on a band trip to San Fransisco, a group of friends, my mother (a chaperon), the kind-of-cute assisstant band teacher and myself were enjoying some pizza in a local park, watching a wedding take place at the church across the road, when we were accosted by a very drunk, very disgusting homeless man. He made some remarks about how nice it was to see families enjoying a nice day in the park (???), and honestly I don't remember what else. He was standing far too close to me and my anxiety levels were off the chart. Anyway, he at one point proposed that he sing us a song. We all tried to politely decline, but then Dumbfuck the Wonder Tool, also known as the assisstant band teacher, told him, Sure, why the fuck not. Yes, he ceased being kind-of-cute to me.
So we were treated to a badly butchered rendition of some Santana song or other, and honestly, to this very day, I cannot hear Santana without thinking of this homeless man from San Fransisco. At one point, he ripped his jacket open, and I was sure that he was going to pull out a knife and stab me to death. My friend Amanda was much amused, but all I could think about was that this would be the most embarrassing death ever.
Anyway, he finished his song, awkwardly bowed, and then Dumbfuck the Wonder Tool gave him 10 fucking cents. Now, I'm not a homeless person, but even I understand that that's a fucking slap in the face. So, Homeless Santana (loudly) protested, yelling that this was "chump change" and that he could make "a hundred bucks" and that he "sings at weddings". Maybe hobo dumpster weddings for washed up prostitutes and Rat Kings, but that's still a wedding. So DtWT starts to yell back (yes, really). Santana challenges him to a duel, shouting "You wanna fight, bitch? You wanna go?" And honestly, DtWT is raring to go, when suddenly some football playing frat boy shouts, "Hey Santana, catch!" and tosses him the ol' pigskin. Santana gracefully extends his arm and catches it, and then runs off to join the game. Frat Boy smiles at me, and I weakly smile back, and then continue on the plagued with hobophobia for the rest of my life. The whole way home from San Fransisco, I thought Santana was following us. I had a dream that he'd found me. Yes, I am that crazy.
So, there's my story for the day. I'm doing okay. Feeling better (mentally) but I'm actually terribly ill right now. It's awful. I hate sleeping when I'm this sick. I mean, I want to sleep, because my body is tired, but the actual act of sleeping when you're sick is hell. For one thing, my sinuses are so stuffed up, that having my head in any position but upright is incredibly uncomfortable. Then you get too hot, and your head hurts, and you have to breath through your mouth thus causing you to be thirsty, AND no matter which direction you put your head, your nose will run. Ew.
Also, drugs have ceased to take effect on me. Today I have had 2 Dayquil pills, 2 tylenols and 1 T3. All of them failed to take effect. Actually, hold that thought, the T3 might be what is making me so woozy. Or that might just be my good old fashioned cold.
Every time I say "old fashioned" I think of the Old Fashioned Ham from the deli at work.
PS. Still sketching for my webcomic. I'm having fun with it, but am starting to worry about the "web" part. I seriously don't know shit about that computer type nonsense.
What else... My cousins wedding is coming up and we're hosting to Bridal Shower at my house on the 12th, so I need to start thinking of a menu. Bought an ADORABLE dress for it, aaaaand the illness made me forget what else I was going to say.