Why can't I shut the fuck up?
Huh?
I just keep cranking and complaining and pointing out and admonishing as if I have all the answers. I don't know shit. I hope I prove that shit every day on this blog. I don't know what the fuck is going on, and I don't want to know. I live by a simple set of instructions that make the world easier for me to understand, for me to maneuver. It's the hobo-code, and I would like to introduce you to it, but only after bitching about something else.
Why can't I write shorter posts. I start rambling on and on, my fingers hitting the keys and I can't stop. It's the manic period. It won't let me sit still, it won't let me function at a more limited capacity. It's all or nothing in my furnace of the soul, and I'm beginning to believe it's consuming me. I just don't see how to shut the fuck up. Honest reader, I'm really trying to make these posts shorter and shorter, but it always stands to be that every time I rail on a subject, something else comes to my mind. Now you know that I have mental problems don't you? I think I've told you a million times, and I hope you've taken me seriously half those times. One of the problems that I exhibit though are Racing Thoughts.
That's when you are jumping around so much in your head that you can't focus on one thing for long. This is where my Adult Attention Deficit Disorder comes in. If my brain can't focus after ten minutes, then I can't realistically DO anything for more than ten minutes. Some shit, right? But I'm making due. I'm doing the best that I can, with what I got. And that's why the world can sometimes be very confusing to us, because we don't have much. So we work with what we got. This is where the code of ethics for hobos comes in.
"Be wary of dark corners of buildings when looking for a place to sleep," because people use these corners to piss in. Nasty fuckers. This rule goes hand in hand with: "Learn how piss smells." You need one to go with the other or you'll be sleeping in yellow fluid that ain't Mountain Dew. Realize that dogs can mark their territory with their piss. When another dog comes by he smells the territorial dog's piss. Meaning one thing. Every dog's piss smells different from their own. This also holds true for Human Beings. Sometimes our piss can be really ammonia-ny, or just plain harsh, like napalm. Other times, it can be pretty fragrant, like Lysol. But whatever, learn the different smells of piss, and be done with it. You'll thank me the first night you avoid rolling off your mat and into a puddle of mire.
Another Law: "No matter who. Never follow a woman for more than two blocks." This goes from pre-teens to Septuagenarians. Fuck following women. Not that you are doing it on purpose. You're just minding your own business and heading down the block, maybe to a Starbucks or Woolworths. Then you notice her walking ahead of you. After two blocks she begins to constantly glance over her shoulder. This means you are in trouble. Especially if you are homeless. If you are Brad Pitt or George Clooney this behavior means that you are going to get laid tonight. If you are not, be careful. This bitch is already dreaming up nightmare scenarios, involving you, her, a knife or gun, and your erection.
Know the warning signs! If you walk faster to pass her, and she walks faster to keep ahead of you, you are on her radar, and she is about to bolt down the block, screaming and hollering for her very life. Do the smart thing. STOP, DROP and ROLL!!! Oh, sorry, wrong one: 'Stop, turn around and walk!' Do this immediately when you see the warning signs. If you do it drastically enough you make her feel like an idiot, which she is. And at least you don't have to stand in a ring of police officers, explaining to them why you WEREN'T following her.
Another Law: "Don't let ANYONE follow you for more than two blocks." You think I'm kidding, right? Be wary of your surroundings at all times. If a woman is following you for more than two blocks, keep looking over your shoulder to make certain that she isn't gaining on you. If you suspect that a woman IS indeed following you, or a young child, an old man or woman, a cripple, or a blind person, you MUST stop short, turn around and cold-cock them right in the nose. I mean drive you fist as hard as you can, right into their hot apple pie. Try your best to knock them the fuck out!
Now if this is a big, burly man...or even just a healthy man that looks like they have the remotest of chances of being successful at whipping your ass, don't be too proud to break out in a run, screaming and hollering at the top of your lungs. You bend someone's face in and they'll be ready to bite through steel. You never know what a tough guy might do with a gun, knife or erection. Know your surroundings, and don't forget to carry a pair of brass knuckles.
More laws: "Don't wave hello to passing taxi-cabs." For some reason they do not like this. They'll pull over, and you think they do so to say hello or good morning back to you. So I usually say, 'good morning, sir'. This pisses them off and they call you all kinds of names before speeding off. I mean, I know what tourists say about the crankiness of New Yorkers, but this is pretty blatant. So from now on, Fuck the Cab-drivers!
"When drunk, don't piss in people's drinks for fun." This should be academic. How are you going to piss in someone's drink at the bar? Whip your dick out right there? Carry it into the john and bring it back? No, that's stupid. It's better to sprinkle some Rohypnol in that motherfucker and get ready for a Hot time in the Igloo tonight! I mean, what's more fun, watching someone drinking piss or getting laid? Well, okay, you're right...watching someone drink piss is pretty funny. I'd rather do that too.
"Do not piss down your pants leg or on your shoes," this should be easy. However, I cannot tell you how many times I've did both of them after coming out of my favorite bar. I know, I know, I was pretty fucked up at the time and I thought I was staggering to the bathroom, but instead I was wandering out of the front door. I made it around the corner of the bar, stopped on the sidewalk, leaned with one hand on the blue painted brick wall of the building, pulled out my johnny hose and pissed, making certain not to hit my shoes. OH! This Law should also go with a caveat, "Try not to piss on the nice police officer's shiny shoes either." Yeah, that's right, the brick wall that I was leaning against was the chest of some brutally big assed cop and I was pissing directly on his shoes. Seconds later I was tasting his baton, along with blood and teeth, and spending the night in the drunk tank in the Tombs. This is a good Law to follow.
"Never borrow library books. Go and steal them instead." Something relatively easy to do, but c'mon, who in their right mind is so petty enough as to steal a library book? Just borrow it like a normal person. Go up to the front desk and hand it to them. They'll give you a card and everything. You'll do fine. But, if you're gonna steal from the library, don't bother with the library books. Fuck 'em. Trust me, instead you'll want to go for the library slips. Yeah, those little pieces of paper, like pads. Easy to go in your pockets, easy to carry. Especially when you are in a public bathroom, taking a shit and there is no toilet paper on the roll. When you're homeless this comes in very handy to wipe your ass. You'll thank me for this advice later.
"Do not carry large bills," well...you don't have a job, so that means you'll probably not be able to carry any bills. So don't really worry about this one if you're a hobo. You'll get change, and you can carry as much change as you damn well please. Plus, it's just good, clean fun to stand on a line of people waiting at a cashier and count dimes and pennies for something costing ten dollars.
"Don't kiss on your first date.," oh, sorry. This is another one of those that you don't have to ever worry about if you are a hobo or homeless person because you will never date again for the rest of your life. You'll not even touch a woman or see a naked one in real life. Hopefully you will become impotent at a young age and never have to worry about it for the rest of your life until your ass is in the next life. Anyway, there are far more important things to take care of and do, like scratch your dry, flaking ass.
Well, I have a few more Laws for the Hobos in your life, dealing with sex, women and blowjobs, (OH c'mon now! Really! How long have you been reading this blog now not to know that those are my most favorite subjects) but why bore you about subjects that I can't seem to stop yakking about. I'll save those for whole posts instead of a brief summary like I am doing here. You'll thank me for it later when you have a more broader insight of the homeless community.
With all this shit being said, realize something. Christmas is fucking tomorrow. I've long ago finished the finishing touches on my special Christmas edition of The Further Adventures of Hobobob. I worked very hard on it (the Hell I did) touching on serious subjects, heartwarming tales, Christian values, and heartfelt charity. Trust me, it will be the Yuletide favorite for years to come.
Try to stay sober Christmas eve, so that you won't miss it.
Hobobob
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