Can you spare some time?

One of the realities of living in a major metropolitan burg is that you will be asked for some scratch by a vagrant, hobo, Nick Nolte, panhandler, bum.

Do not give this man money!

It's as inevitable as a chick President. I was caught off-guard by one today. It was a middle aged woman with make-up and a full set of teeth. She just came out of a liquor store with what appeared to be a purchase of some spirits. She approached me and started talking. I was wearing head phones and didn't hear her initial question. I thought maybe she needed directions or wanted to compliment me on the color coordination of my work uniform. When I removed my earphones and said "excuse me?" she started to go into a lengthy narrative of babies and diapers and Gerbers and no money and give me some. I briefly looked her over. I specifically looked at her bag o' alcohol. Could she be lying? Most panhandlers lie about something. Mostly it's when you turn down their offer to relieve you of your money and they reply "Have a nice day!" They don't want you to have a nice day. They want you to get bone cancer.

But she could be telling the truth this time. She probably really did need money for diapers. I mean, once you buy vodka, there isn't much left over. We are in a recession. So, I reached into my pocket and told her a lie."I only have a credit card." She pouted off and I continued on my way leaving the lie lingering in the wind like a burrito fart.

Horton Hears a Poo

Today I was pondering about poo. I'm not sure about you, but I'm a looker. I look at my feces before I send it down the watery whirlpool. Now you're either thinking "why" or "eww." If it's the former thought, let me illuminate. Poo tells us so much about ourselves. It comes from us. Deep within us. It has stories to tell and many miles to go before it sleeps in the ocean. It's true!! There's even a book that translates your poo. It's called What's Your Poo Telling You? This book will explain the "Log Jam" or the "Soft Serve" and my personal favorite "The Clean Sweep."

So, before you blindly flush your solid waste, take a peek. Find out what your poo is telling you. You'll be grateful.

Slippery Slopes

Today I was at LAX picking up my Mum from her month long visit to the Motherland (that's Vietnam for me, not sure what it is for you).

As I was standing at the Tom Bradley International Terminal, my brother John commented on the beauty of the Asian flight attendants. I just couldn't agree. I'm not generally attracted to Asian women. Maybe it's because I'm Hasian (half-asian). Not to say there aren't beautiful Asian women. I would gargle Gong Li's urine and Zhang Ziyi movies have made many deposits into the spank bank. I'm just not floored by most Asian females. Maybe it was the fact that the flight attendants all had their hair up and were wearing identical uniforms. They all looked alike. Like grapes.

I'm loving it! Not!!

Today I was eating lunch at the Golden Arches. It consisted of the following:

• Grilled Chicken Snack Wrap with Chipotle BBQ and no cheese.
• Snack size yogurt parfait.
• Small diet beverage.

Total calories: 390. Total brawny man points: -642

As I'm stuffing yogurt parfait into my cake hole, this elderly couple sit at a table across from me. The woman is delightfully debilitated maneuvering the aisles with her cane while the gentleman is giving her directions like a geriatric GPS. The couple sit down and start to spread out their meal before them. Cookies, drinks, and a sandwich. None of it from McDonald's. It was rather enchanting watching the couple eat. The sandwich was split evenly and shared. The cookies were consumed in between delicate swallows of their beverage. Even the gentle shaking of their incredibly aged bodies was mesmerizing. I had only one thought.

Please don't let me become an old couple. Or even just old. The moment I sit in a McDonald's and reminisce about the days when I didn't shit in a bag attached to my hip while sipping senior coffee is the day I start my Into the Wild vacation. Minus all the hitchhiking and getting beat up by train engineers. Just the eating poisonous plants and dying in a magic bus.

"In the wild, there is no health care. In the wild, health care is, 'Ow, I hurt my leg. I can't run. A lion eats me. I'm dead.' Well, I'm not dead. I'm the lion. You're dead." -Dwight Schrute.