If I were homeless, my sign would say, "Shit."
I don't give money that often to homeless folks. But the fancy strikes me usually if his or her sign is clever, witty, honest, or just so damn heart-wrenching I can't help but give him a dollar, or what I usually do, grab the entire cup holder's stash of change, which if I haven't seen a decent homeless sign in a while will probably be a pretty good haul. Today I saw one that said "Help if you can." Oh man, that one got me. I gave him one dollar plus Dr. Pepper.
Some people let the homeless get them all bent outta shape, but for me, it's whatever. If you want to be homeless, that's cool. If you can't help but be homeless, that's cool too. But I have to say, I hardly believe that's the case. Anyolebody can pick up a shovel or pick up trash, so for the most part, I think homelessness is by choice. Unless you have zero legs and arms and mouth painting didn't pan out for you. Hopefully you're receiving some sort of living assistance or at least your second cousin Phil drops in from time to time to help you find the remote.
Yikes.
So last week, I was supposed to meet this guy I'm sort of calling my boyfriend now (that's a whole other blog) and went to the bar I thought he was at but he had moved on, so I sat with a couple of outta town clowns and entertained them by hammering a few whisky shots and making fun of their Movado watches while offering friendly advice about their love lives. I tired of them and decided to head to a bar where I thought my beau might be.
Outside of said bar, a friendly looking gentleman hobo approached me and asked if I had any change. "Why, you're not homeless," I said.
Homeless Guy: Why, yes I am in fact.
Me: That's dumb. You don't seem like you should be.
Homeless Guy: Why would you say that? I'm sitting here asking for change, right?
Me: Uh, yeah, I see that. Pretty dumb. You look like you could work at Whole Foods or something. I don't believe you. Do you work at Whole Foods?
Homeless Guy: No. But I went in it one time.
Me: Overpriced, huh?
Homeless Guy: So, do you have any change or what?
Me: Yeah, but I don't think I'm gonna give you any. Not for nothing, anyway. I know you're a smart guy. Tell me something smart. Read any good books?
Homeless Guy: I've read the Bible.
Me: Good. This is gonna be great. I haven't been to Sunday School in a really long time. Tell me a Bible story.
(Meanwhile, passers-by pass by, Homeless Guy asks for change, gets snubbed.)
Me: Dude, quit it, you're embarrassing me.
HG: Okay. So there was a son born unto a woman who couldn't bear children and his name was Samson. God sent him to his mother so he could be a great man and protect the Philistines from the Israelites.
Me: You mean protect the Israelites from the Philistines.
HG (flustered): Oh. Right. Yes. Anyway, as he grew up he found he was incredibly strong. He wrestled a lion and killed thousands of Philistines with just the jawbone of a horse.
Me: Wrong. It was a donkey.
HG (annoyed): Are YOU telling the story?
Me: Um, nooo. Pretty sure it's God's story. And I can't help you're butchering it. Next you're gonna tell me he fell in love with a girl named Susan and not Delilah and she cut off his earlobe and not his hair.
heartless wench
HG: I'm going off King James Version. How about you?
Me: I don't know, the correct version? You're wrecking the story. How am I supposed to give you money if you wreck the story? I know you're a smart guy. Maybe you just didn't read carefully. My name is Brynnan.
HG: Michael.
Me: Here, Michael. Here is four dollars. You're a shitty story teller but maybe you can buy a few good books at a garage sale with this. I'm going inside to meet someone. Check ya later.
Michael (head tilted, best sad homeless-guy-face on followed with insistent shoulder): You know what would really be nice? (puppy dog eyebrows) A drink.
Me: Oh yeah!? You wanna get drunk tonight!? Forget you're a bum!? Live large for a night!? Gonna tell me some more shitty stories!? Yeah, okay. Come on.
And that's how I friended a bum downtown. The bartender was none too pleased at me and even tried to kick us out based on Michael's sleeveless attire, but luckily bums travel with a lot of crap in a backpack so he threw on a tee shirt and ordered a glass of the bar's finest house wine. My favorite part was when boyfriend came in and I introduced Michael and boyfriend, not lost on the fact that I had brought in a bum and he would probably end up paying for both our tabs said, "I'll have what he's having."
