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I’ve got one hand in my pocket, and the other one is motioning to fellacio to a group of uptight white girls sitting in the back of the diiiiive dive dive bar #empowerment #alanismorrissette

I’ve got one hand in my pocket, and the other one is pulling out my wedgieeeeee

This homeless dude tried to run up on me tonight whilst walking back to my car after work. I guess I was too busy to notice; contemplating my pending move. I had been trying to shake the uneasy question of my readiness.

I already had my keys between my fingers as a weapon out of habit and was wearing my docs in case I needed to… step on some serious toe nails.

“Woah, woah, woah! I’m not trying to rob you or nothin’!” He put his hands up to show me he came in peace.

“Good because I was ready stab you,” I calmly replied, waving my hand-key-knife. Then I laughed loudly at what I had just said to give off an unstable vibe. Like something an antagonistic Denzel Washington would do in one of his fine films.

He laughed. “That’s good! That’s good you do that. You always gotta be ready, especially nowadays. A good place to take a nigga out is right in the eyes.”

“Yup, blind ‘em. Or in the lower calf if you need to.” I motioned my keys to the ground in a jabbing motion.

He stopped laughing momentarily to think. It was then I started to become anxious because he was steadily walking alongside me. I continued to casually banter with him, walking a little quicker. We were cracking each other up when I began to cross the street.

“Okay well I’m gonna let you go. I like your attitude! You know, you’ve got really pretty eyes. I’m Reggie by the way. You have a nice night,” he said, shaking my hand.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, using my left hand instead of the one holding my keys.

Then he asked me for money and I told him I was broke. He sympathized and went on his way. Suddenly my coworker zoomed up behind me on her moped.

“Who was that guy?” she asked.

“Reggie, I guess.”

“Everything cool?”

“Yeah, he was funny. No big.”

In all reality, I could have been mugged. He could have had ill will towards me. Maybe I disarmed him with my charm and good looks. Maybe he could see the broke-ness in my eyes. I wasn’t even entirely all the weirded out by him. It was then I realized I don’t give a fuck about weirdos and strangers at night or what have you. I’m not exactly normal or even all that sane myself.

Does that mean I’m ready for LA?