I could spit on a stranger.

I picked up two five hundred bills from my super safe brief and boxer storage cabinet (where I also keep my one year supply of condom, still unused. I bought it back when I was 16. Haay.) and stored one in a small compartment of my handy orange bag, and then another inside my briefs (mwahahaha. try to get my moolah bitch). I loaded my iPod with Weezer, Beyonce, The Appleseed Cast, Radiohead, and Feist. Unplugged the battery charger from the wall, took the batteries from it and then inserted it to the camera. Positive here, negative there.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and talked to it inside my head, “Yiheee… Gwapo.” I grabbed my house keys, a box of matches, my camera, and my wallet. I stuffed them all inside my then-empty bag. I programmed my iPod into shuffle, and then pressed play. Weezer’s Perfect Situation erupted through my earphones: “What’s the deal, with my brain? Why am I so obviously insane?” Hooray to you, Rivers Cuomo! I am obviously insane for dating myself.

I smelled the fresh afternoon scent and went on my way to have a date with myself.

(more…)