K is for Signs...

Today I saw a boy in the hot sun holding a cardboard sign with the sentence: "Why lie I just wanna go to a rave."

At least this boy is honest, unlike many other sign holders, who just love to be dirty, looking.

The only problem I have with this young boy is that he seemed a little outdated. Raves are so 2000 and one and his penmanship sucked.

However, he did spell "wanna" correct: two n's and two a's; don't forget the w.

Side note, I can see this boy getting, buying, stealing a permanent marker for his sign (because he was well groomed and wearing a backpack; obviously a sign that he was not homeless, perhaps... just delinquent. "Uhhh, what's in your backpack?") but where do the homeless people get their markers from. I can't imagine them going to the store (not even a 99 cent store) and actually spending their precious money to buy a pen instead of food... or drugs. But then again, who is to say that all homeless people do drugs, not me. But maybe they do buy markers from staples; it's like an investment.

K is for Habits...

I have no habits nor superstitions except sleeping on my right side, scrunching my nose during allergy season, sticking my pointer finger in Lexi's nose, scratching my head with my pinkies, etc, etc, etc...

I, especially, do not have a habit of tipping the homeless with some cha-ching.

Recently, however, I might have a change of heart, thought, and undies. I might...

I have been camping in a tent, no, two different tents, more than seven days, or a dragged out date with the mosquitoes.

When you camp, it's hard to keep yourself clean. The hardest part of camping is not the mosquitoes, the smoke, the overeating, nor the sleeping with the chain saw in the background, TIMMM-ber; I almost hit you that time. The hardest part is simply the feeling that you are not clean. Camping motto should be: Dirty mouth, snap into a slim jim.

It takes skills, yes, talent to stay and remain dirty. It's hard work. It sucks. I rather not, mostly.

Getting back to the homeless... man I saw recently. Most of the time, like always, I like to stare at the homeless, with my left eye, to see if they are really homeless or if they just hold signs to get free cha-cha-ching. (That's two coins.) I make my subjective biased judgment of how homeless a person is by how dirty the person is. (It's also interesting that you find more men homeless people holding signs than women. The women just hate dirty mouth so much they would rather find a job, a house, a garden, a husband, a life, in that particular order. That's why I don't get how Jessica Simpson hates brushing her dentals.)

It takes work and dedication to stay dirty and remain happy. Therefore, instead of paying these homeless people because of pure sympathy, you should pay them because it's just plain dirty work to stay dirty. So if you been camping, you can look at the homeless people and say: I understand, I empathize; and not give them any cha-ching, just some ching.

I gave the homeless man with his nice yellow bicycle (I own zero nice yellow bicycle) a empty smile and pure empathetic brain wave with my left eye.

Dirty mouth, stay dirty and thirsty my friends.

K is for Konversations...

The beautiful mind of a special woman-man during a special times of the month and year with the overdose of tv, podcasts, facebook, water, blogs, stalking, and driving.

Lex: being single sucks a lot... but being married still sucks less... but still sucks...
Boy: por favor, explainada...
Lex: when you are single, you hold dear to, no, fiercely cling onto faith and trust with the tip of your jagged fingernails from the Vietnamese nail parlor ... but when you are married faith and trust has a lusty lustful affair with you know who and leaves you during the winter-y night in July; leaving you to wonder... land... who really is faith and trust.
Boy: huh? por favor, explainada mucho...
Lex: when you are single, you have explosions...
Boy: que? por... que?
Lex: when you are single, you have explosions of faith and trust...
Boy: que? qui?
Lex: when you are married, faith and trust decides to stop hoping and flying... airplanes; and only wants vain-ness: cameras.
Boy: hopping? I like cameras...
Lex: I only like headshots... of cacti... sometimes cactus.
Boy: boxing? bodyshots?
Lex: when you are married, you say mannn-go, not po-ta-toes; and it just cuts me down there... in my toes, not po-ta-toes; also the balls of my left feet.
Boy: por-que mango? left foot? bol?
Lex: comprend - ez - tu - you?
Boy: po-quito - mas... euh?
Lex: I have a confessional... I broke the windshield... wiper; the right one, by hitting faith and trust and I was broken but it wasn't my fault... it was a hot four weeks, not hillary-us weeks; it started to shake like a rattle snake... you knew me when you picked me up... but it wasn't my fault; it broke me; shattered; crumpled; crippled; crumpet.
Boy: are you panting? I think we have a mis-argument; misunderstanding... I just want to leave Arizona.