Grood.com

I was walking down Sunset yesterday and overheard two ladies say to two homeless men, “Would you like a free coffee and a donut?” I’m all about charity and whatnot but seriously, a donut? Just think about that for a second. I’m no scientist, or a Scientologist for that matter, but I’m pretty sure I know that donuts consist primarily of sugar (with maybe a little air). And based on the footage I’ve seen, homeless people usually don’t have the adequate means to clean their teeth.

Not to mention that it’s fucking sugar. I’m going to double check with my nutritionist, but I’m pretty sugar giving practically pure sugar to a starving person isn’t the greatest idea in the world. The two women might as well have asked the men if they’d like a kick to the nuts.

I hope the way you start out your New Year’s Day is not any indication of how the rest of that year will go because holllly shiiiiit. I had just finished walking my dog Kaylee (she’s a big ole cutey-pie, btw) and as we make our way back into my building and up the first flight of stairs I see a man making his way down who, judging by his appearance (google ‘James Brown mugshot’), prefers to unwind with a hit of crack. Sure, I live in Hollywood and see people of his ilk every single day but there’s generally very little interaction between us, either because I’m riding past them on my bicycle on my way to work or acting like I’m talking on my phone when I’m walking past them. This encounter would not be one of those times.

Anywho, I see this guy and notice right away he looks a little funky (James Brown mugshot funky, not James Brown dance funky) and I’m more or less like a deer in headlights and I say the first thing that comes to mind: “Hi.” He responds with a “Happy New Year” and starts making his way down the stairs. Oh fuck, here we go I thought to myself. So, the man proceeds to introduce himself to me and shake my hand and he says something along the lines of how wonderful this year is going to be and blah blah blah; I’m just standing their smiling politely the whole time, hoping this thing can end and end soon. Then the guy hugs me… and kisses me on the cheek. Yes, a crackhead kissed me on the cheek.

So, as you can guess, I’m genuinely freaked the F out at this point. I start walking up the stairs to go to my apartment and burn all of my clothes (and I mean all of my clothes, not just the clothes I’m wearing. You know, for good measure) when he says, “Hey, how can I get ahold of you.” Yes, a crackhead basically just asked me out. I literally mumbled something and ran upstairs. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the shower curled up in a fetal position.

Sure about that?

Guys like this are why phones have cameras.

Absolutely.

Just for the record, I saw him wheel that thing down the middle of the lane for about thirty seconds. Cars were going around him.