Sigh. I still have yet to go to sleep. I figure I can take a nap and get in a few hours before work. Today is going to be no fun at all, I can just see it. Since 8 am, I got my car fixed, bills mailed, and my head shaved, so I guess I got a bit accomplished from my daily dose of sleep deprivation. That's how it goes, I guess.
I met this crazy homeless guy (Nathaniel Brown III - I'm making it a point now to remember people's names whenever I hear something from them worth repeating) who was endlessly entertaining as I was waiting for new rotors and brakes to be installed on my car. He told me about a guy who sold weed and had tunnels under his house. This guy would stash weed and cash in his walls and in the tunnels, and then no one would be able to find his shit, I guess. This guy got caught, and 15 years later, he came back to this boarded-up ghetto torn up house, and went in through a tunnel in the back yard, and came out with more than $100,000 and a pound or two of mildewed, moldy, good for nothing marijuana. He later got caught on charges of conspiracy or something or other, but still, that's a damn good story to hear for the price of a handful of change and a cigarette. If I hadn't stayed up all night, that story probably wouldn't be so interesting to me, but I did, and it is.
I love hearing crazy stories from people off the street anyway. I don't give a shit about what goes on in the lives of soccer moms and businessmen. I want to know what's up with the guy on the corner dancing to music in his head, asking people for change so he can get a bus ticket. Those are the interesting people, at least around here anyway.
On that note, I am off to bed to sleep as much as is possible in the next few hours.
I met this crazy homeless guy (Nathaniel Brown III - I'm making it a point now to remember people's names whenever I hear something from them worth repeating) who was endlessly entertaining as I was waiting for new rotors and brakes to be installed on my car. He told me about a guy who sold weed and had tunnels under his house. This guy would stash weed and cash in his walls and in the tunnels, and then no one would be able to find his shit, I guess. This guy got caught, and 15 years later, he came back to this boarded-up ghetto torn up house, and went in through a tunnel in the back yard, and came out with more than $100,000 and a pound or two of mildewed, moldy, good for nothing marijuana. He later got caught on charges of conspiracy or something or other, but still, that's a damn good story to hear for the price of a handful of change and a cigarette. If I hadn't stayed up all night, that story probably wouldn't be so interesting to me, but I did, and it is.
I love hearing crazy stories from people off the street anyway. I don't give a shit about what goes on in the lives of soccer moms and businessmen. I want to know what's up with the guy on the corner dancing to music in his head, asking people for change so he can get a bus ticket. Those are the interesting people, at least around here anyway.
On that note, I am off to bed to sleep as much as is possible in the next few hours.