One time in college I was walking home from work and a homeless man I passed every night when I’d walk back to my dorm from work asked me to buy him something to eat from this outrageously overpriced grocery store he was standing in front of and I said yes.
We walked into Morton Williams and I awkwardly shrugged my shoulders indicating that he should go forth and pick dinner, or whatever you call your first meal or a week’s worth of meals.
I have no idea what I thought he was going to pick out from a grocery store to eat, but I certainly didn’t anticipate his next move… which was to walk to the cheese section and pick out a massive block of Brie cheese. Huge.
(SIDE FUCKING NOTE: I was going to make a joke about how he was going to feed a bunch of mice with all this cheese and then say something about being a “Rat King,” or something… but definitely I was going to say “Rat King” and then I thought to Google “Rat King” just … just because. And holy fuck. First of all, DO NOT GOOGLE “RAT KING.” And second of all, things are not as they seem. or sound. or anything.)
Then he went to the deli section but since it was 2am (For confirmation, yeah, I was in a grocery store in Morningside Heights with a homeless stranger at 2am) there was no one there. Instead, he found some pre-cut prosciutto and smoked salmon and he proceeded to look back and forth between the two packages before he decided on the prosciutto and flippantly left the lox on top of a table of cheese.
He picked out a few other things, including but not limited to - this is not a joke - a baguette and a pack of Carr’s crackers (which he later decided against, in favor of some other wildly expensive and superfluous cracker-like product he found laying by the cheeses.)
Like, I wanted to buy this guy a bicycle, a picnic basket and fucking bottle of rose and explain to him that the corner of 115th and Broadway was not the place for him and his expensive tastes.
It would have been the least shocking moment of this ordeal if, after I paid, he turned to me and said “LOL, I’m not even homeless. You just got Punk’d…” but in French.
Anyway, when he was done assembling his feast he walked to the cashier and l nearly dropped dead when I realized the price I had to pay for extending some kindness to a stranger. And this was before I had a credit card (or even KNEW what a credit card was! - and thus before I was tens of thousands of dollars in debt from frivolous spending) so it was rough on my life. I couldn’t take a cab for two days.
My man thanked me and took his groceries
back to his palace to eat on his throne and ate them in the phone booth I met him in, I guess.
In other, unrelated news: I’m on a juice cleanse cuz I’m going to Miami on Thursday and I’m trying to get back to my pre baby weight:
i want to drive here and have sex with someone on this road.
today someone told me people can hack into your computer and… look at you. look at you THRU. YOUR. CAMERA!!! …and the green light won’t even show up!?!!!!?
i’m frightened by this news and have obviously decided someone is definitely doing this to me. i’m also worried about what the tiny secret camera people have seen; but, mainly all i do in front of this thing is:
so i guess we’re cool here?!
(*this is the way i use my computer)
i have two reactions to people telling me i’m pretty or complimentin’ ma looks:
1. telling them their comment is nice but declining. like, declining the compliment. i say “that’s sweet, but no”. like, take that back. here you are, you can have this “you’re pretty” back; put it into your compliment bank. don’t waste that on me.
or, 2. and i prefer this, just saying “ew.” and not like “that’s gross” (but sort of). it’s more like in the way that if you were to decide to drink expired milk after smelling it… the point right after you smell it and right before you decide yes, it’s a go… (that’s the best description i can give.)
but this doesn’t really matter, it’s just a set up for something really inappropriate that i have to put after the link… OK?