No Officer, I'm not Homeless.

            Now that I have a car I feel like I'm going to become a night-time-car-crying people. . . yes, it needed that many hyphens.  I feel like I'll be out there sobbing my eyes out listening to "The Love Songs of Motown" and singing to myself, eventually falling asleep. I assume at this point an nice police man (woman)  will come knock on my car door and ask if I need to get to a shelter. To this, I shall reply, "Oh no officer, I'm not homeless, I just come out here to cry." At this point, I'm assuming that he'll (she'll) ask if I'm drunk and at this point I'll cry some more and explain that most people think that I am a drunk and this is why I am alone crying in my Ford Taurus in the first place.
              By nature I'm a crier. I can just imagine myself also being a car crier, and it's surely not a good thing to be.  Also, by nature I am reckless. . . crying + recklessness= bad news bears. Which then by the process of substitution: I am bad news bears! In case you do not know, bad news bears aren't a good thing.

In other news:


              I want to be an anti-drug advocate for like high schools and stuff.  I'd stumble onto the stage and say, "Dude! I'm so high right now!" The students will laugh and when it dies down I'd yell, "On life!" After which the students would boo and I would do my talk on how to not do drugs in today's adverse world, one of the last of the 90's babies preaching to the 10's babies. It's scary, I know. Well, that's all I have to say tonight. Live in a mediocre fashion and love with a little more than mediocre passion. Stuff your face and have a happy week. Goodnight, goodbye, and all that jazz. Amen, praise the almighty Overlord Google.