I had an interesting morning, where within one short hour I was able to run the gamut of the entire human experience while driving around LA. While dropping off a package in Beverly Hills I had to stop to let a woman pass who was jogging in full jewelry and makeup alongside her silk neckerchief wearing labra-doodle-poo (I don't know what the hell it was but I assume it was one of those unholy hybrid freakdogs). As she disappeared behind the remote controlled gate surrounding her massive home I couldn't help but feel slightly unaccomplished.
That is until, only a cool 3 miles later, I had to slam on the brakes when a kindly vagabond (gotta be PC) evidently took the "Don't Walk" sign as the "Now is as good a time as any to push your Hummer-sized shopping cart across the street while rubbing yourself and screaming arbitrarily" sign.
Suddenly, I thought I wasn't so unaccomplished. Then I thought I was kind of a dick for reacting that way. Then I wondered what if that was Steve Buscemi researching for his role in Big Daddy II? Then I got his autograph.
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