Drink From My Cup, Oh Parched One

Homeless people should be shot in the back of the head and buried in a mass grave. Or they should at least have the decency to kill themselves, these lovers of life.

If those sentences offends you - then you probably don't want to read the rest of this post. Spoilers ahead.

It's not that I don't feel bad for people - but on a Saturday night, sometimes it's nice to sit outside, on the patio of a bar, and drink. And sometimes, when this happens, you don't bring enough change with you for the whole homeless population of Orlando.

Sarah, Jeff, Rob, and myself were all downtown, at Lake Eola Wine Company last Saturday - having a good time, sitting under a mushroom heater that had a fresh tank of propane...laughing, planning to do a little bar hopping (something unusual for us) when:

Homeless Man #1 approaches - I never got a look at him because my years of being a courier downtown have trained me to ignore the bleating of sheep like this. And they always have some bullshit story, and his was that he was writing a book and wanting to know if we knew any publishers -- Sarah, "No, sorry." -- Jeff, "Can't think of any." -- Rob, "No." -- Me - Silence. Oh, okay, well, can I have a quarter. Sorry, none of us have cash on us. (But we all have to say it in that awkward, tail-between-our-legs way, that denying money to the homeless always brings out of people - cause you don't have to be the fucking Stephen Hawking of Homeless Guys to know that people drinking at the Lake Eola Wine Company probably have a little folding money in their pockets -- even if they can barely afford to drink there themselves). So, no book deal and no quarter for Homeless Guy # 1 (aka The Cleanest of The Homeless Guys we were to encounter that night).

Which brings us to Homeless Guy #2 -- and Jeff Lindberg acting very much like Josh Geoghagan.

HG #2 strides up - no bullshit, no story - and demands a dollar, or, "a sip of any of that wine you got there, preferably white" -

And Jeff says, in the knee jerk way speaking to pushy Homeless makes you speak, "No thanks."

And HG #2 says - "What the hell are you thanking me for?" Followed by various grumbles and rumbles as he shuffles off.

And, Jeff loses his shit (it was great) -- "You've got to be kidding me? What did he expect? For me just to give him my glass, like, here you go, brother. Drink from my glass, oh parched one. Has that ever worked for him do you think? Has anyone sitting here ever given him their wine to drink? Anyone. Like, sorry, we're not drinking white -- what is he -- an expert. Pinot all the way. Maybe we could have gotten rid of him sooner by talking about Merlot? Would he have done the whole wine expert thing - spitting the wine back into the cup"

Rob, Sarah, and myself added our little jokes too -- but Jeff got in the best line of the evening with his "Drink of my cup, oh parched one." Classic.

Homeless Guy #3 wanted to exchange two dollars in change for two dollar bills -- but the fact that he shit his pants before presenting us with this business opportunity kinda soured his chances.

So, it was on to the next bar for us -- an indoor one.

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This week -- hell week -- has been so crazy, there's been no time to post.
Tonight is our last rehearsal -- at this point it's really tech that needs to play catch up, set lighting cues, and special effects and such.
I love that everyone has issues with their costumes. Everyone. Cause as we all know, 'it's sad to be all alone in the world.'

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