Tuesday, January 20

This one summer there were these homeless guys (they were actually more like squatters) who had started hanging around my neighborhood. I saw them with their dogs frequently and paid little attention since I live in an urban environment and am thus completely numb to homelessness... but one day... I came out of my building, it was a Saturday in June so the streets were packed like Times Square, and started walking towards the bakery. When I had gotten to the church (half way to the bakery), I was suddenly startled by a plastic cup flinging around in my face. Upon further inspection, I realized that the plastic cup had a dollar sign on it (why it wasn't Euros I'll never know) which was attached to a fishing pole, which was being held by the squatters who were standing on the church steps. As in they were fishing for handouts. Panhandle fishing. Or something. I thought it was so funny that I decided to give them a Euro. A for effort, I always say.

I sometimes give cash
To homeless people with real
Creativity

Friday, January 16

All of you have this friend. Maybe they're not a friend but more like a leftover acquaintance from your high school group or someone you just can't seem to get rid of, like hard water stains or shingles or chiggers. Or anything else that's really unpleasant. But for some reason you just can't bring yourself to delete them from your Facebook and tell them to F-off, so you reluctantly agree (after many wall comments and messages) to go for a drink and "catch up on old times" [wretch] when:

Lazy ass moocher
Quit going to the bathroom
When the check arrives

Saturday, November 22

Sometimes people just don't get things. For example, my brother and my dad do not "get" this blog and mostly think I'm a horrible person. I do not "get" those super unflattering shiny pleather leggings that make it look like your legs have been shoved into metallic sausage casings. But sometimes, saying you don't "get" it is a big fat load of crap because there's nothing to get, like say, conceptual art. Saying you understand conceptual art is either a) a lie, b) admission of being a totally self pretentious douche bag, or c) a more intricate lie. I know there are artists everywhere who want to kill me, or themselves, for saying that but guess what: I went to art school, and every other major thinks you "conceptual art" majors are a total joke. So there.

Conceptual art
Look at my blank white canvas
Three million dollars

Friday, October 10

Stripper on the pole
How much for a dance?
I’ve got a dollar

Sunday, September 21

Homeless guy in front
Of my house, you smell like pee
Here take twenty cents