OK so I had the craziest Harold and Kumar commute to work last week. I ride my bike up to my bus stop before 6 am every day. There always is a little old man there walking along, plastic bags under each arm. He always shuffles head down, pecking at the trash or the payphone change wells. Well today this other, bigger hobo up and shoves him to the ground. I came unglued. For those of you who don't know the JC, I become a 7-foot tall green Lou Ferrigno when exposed to injustice like that. I call the bully an a-hole, tell him to keep his dickhooks to himself, etc. He offers some lame "he pushed me" comeback, offering up his arm, as though the 130-lb old man hurt him or something. I asked him if he'd like to shove me. No response. Today's lesson: Seems there's a pecking order among the pecked upon.
And that was only the first 15 minutes of my trip
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Labels: hobo, Kumar, Lou Ferrigno

Well since the Stuntman last talked to you, I have seen the highest highs and the lowest lows. The show at the D-note went just about perf, despite being upstaged by a bunch of belly dancers. More on that later. I was working on my plumbing when betrayal struck. From inside my own house. Literally. My brother went and saw the Transformers movie without me. It's cool man I had been waiting months for this to come out, nothing major. I brought you up in this world and this is how you repay me, you know whatever

But anyways, I am going to be heading to Nashville to eat barbecue and pitch songs in the next month. I am so excited. I made it into the marble halls of music row last time I was there, but this time I am actually prepared. All i want is George Strait to sing one of my songs. I mean anything King George touches is gold and then I can retire to a lifetime of writing country music and playing golf. Is that too much to ask?

More later