Without meaning to be untoward

There was a gargantuan black tranny and a nearly catatonic homeless guy at the 7-11 tonight when I went in for my Chelada.

The tranny was at least six foot and built pretty thick. She had a pierced face and was sitting on a side counter thumbing a glossy tabloid. She was spectacularly dark and her dress was dayglow green. It was like a lightshow. The homeless dude was in the exact same spot on the way in as on the way out. His mouth was working but there was no sound and he was ever so slightly rocking back and forth.

This is a nice neighborhood. I’m not offended or anything. It’s a sign of the times. It’s an indication that things are pretty fucked up. I wonder how many homeless there are in Kansas or Oklahoma. Are they on street corners? What about those places where they cling to guns and religion?

You know the homeless population is going to explode and it won’t be like the 90’s when most of them were at least a little crazy, these will be sane but destitute folks, many with families. They will look like you.

A big part of rolling with the punches will be helping your fellow human as much as you can. Like if your a codger alone in a giant mansion, you could house a family. If you’re like me you could give people change and aspire to give them paper dollars someday. Learn about cultivating vegetables and then teach it.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this I just needed to write something.


No, Always.

Keep a trash bag in your car.

When it gets full you can toss it out the window. -Steve Martin

I’m not sure how to tell you this so I’m just gonna say it. Two nights ago, I bought a small pillow of pork rinds with a packet of salsa inside along with a Chelada.

Tonight, despite the amazon shemale and the drooling homeless dude, I secured my second clear plastic pillow with the festive green and red ink, filled with as crude and neanderthal of any mass produced foodstuff there is save pickled pigs feet. Along with a Chelada.

I feel pretty good about it. I was a vegetarian for almost a decade. These days I eat just about anything but the tongue, brains or intestines of any animal. Two hot dogs at the 7-11 for $2.22 all in with all the fixins. Mayo, mustard, ketchup, onions, pickles. processed liquid yellow cheese product and somewhat flavorless chili with a friendly color.

Foodie? I hate that word. Food enthusiast? Fuck me. I like caviar, and sushi, both best with the right champagne. Deviled eggs and french fries, olives and stinky cheese with port, fresh tomatos with salt and pepper, pasta-sauce and a big ass Zinfandel. Then there’s a chili cheese dog with mayonnaise, mustard and onion from Der Wienerschnitzel with a diet coke and the greasy but above average fries.

I tried to tell that I didn’t really have anything to say and here you are. No worries. I wrote all this crap.

Who had a better time?

Drinks for my friends.

4 Responses to “Without meaning to be untoward”

  • Hey that reminds me, last time me and the family were passing through Placerville on our way back from xmas in cartoon city, it was time for a little kid friendly lunch. I didn’t want to go to Mick D’s for some reason, but I did want a fast food burger. (Where’s Dick Naugle when you need him?) So I picked Weanie-bag, fondly thinking about you and Sneb and even the frustrating young CF. The boogieman past through my train of thoughts too. I think I may have told LZ about the way he’d set the drive thru orders on the car roof, turn, and walk away, and the corn dog punts out the back door.

    Anyway, inside the Weanie-bag there was an ice cream counter, a Frosty-Cone, or some such franchize merger. The man behind the counter (working both counters actually) was an old ham. Carny style jokes with every customer. Above his head was a big sign proclaiming “IT’S BACK!”, referring to the wonderful return of Corned Beef. You could get a ruben sandwich, or you could get corned beef added to your hotdogs, yer burgers, hell they’d probably drape some over your fries if you asked.

    The carny stepped out for a smoke after he got us our food and some other customer a frosty cone. Then this grizzled middle aged woman who was a counter-girl parked it at the table near us to arrange her purse and make some friendly chat. Her voice was of Rasputin cigarette gravel patch. She was very friendly, an old sweetie. Her purse was a purple Crown Royal felt sack. I’d like to make fun of that, but I keep both my boys jenga blocks and his classic green army men in the very same sack. Each to their own sack of course. Jenga and soldiers don’t mix.

    Presently she joined her boss outside for a smoke of her own.

    The burger was good. Corn dog too.

    My mental versions of you, sneb, and CF were cackling madly behind my brow.

  • admin:

    Good times. There is a chapter in the bundle I gave you for xmas about AL. The Toxic Woman – The Ballad of Allen Hamilton.

  • Frankie:

    Very funny and entertaining write. The vision of the Tranny which you translated was a treat!.

  • admin:

    Thanks. Keep reading.

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