Homeless Signs

The other day, Annie and I were stopped at a stoplight.  I started laughing hysterically for what seemed like no reason at all.  She gave me the 'what the fuck is wrong with you?' face.  Anytime something like this happens, it's always a longer story than you would expect.  Especially since I had just rapidly thought about a few things in mere seconds that culminated in my laughing outbreak  Here is what happened.

A homeless lady had a sign that she was holding up beside the intersection.  (Homelessness is ridiculous in the Bay Area.)  It said something like "Your going to have a better day if you give me $$".  My first thought was:  come on, lady, that's the wrong 'your' (*you're).  Then I realized that I was truly an awful person for judging a homeless person's grammar.  She probably has more important things to think about, like what fad diet is going to help her drop those last few pounds for bikini season.  Then I went on to think that I didn't care.  If homeless people know how to write in English, they had to have learned it somewhere, and that they shouldn't expect people to give them money if their English is that horrific.  Then I started laughing, because I realized that, once again, I was judging a homeless person for not carefully spell-checking their cardboard sign.  (Though spell-check doesn't work for grammar errors.)

So, there's no surprise when I tell you that I have urges to make fun of homeless people's signs.  If I had more money, I would work it out to make passive aggressive signs that mock their signs and stand next to them.  However, I'm lazy and poor, so I'll just give you a glimpse of what I'm thinking, and you can imagine how awesome the whole series would be.

Please don't stare at me with sad eyes when I'm exploiting you.

There was a guy in SF last weekend that had a sign that read "Let's be honest, I'm saving for a hooker."  It made me giggle, and I thought that was worth $1.  I didn't give him one, though, for 2 reasons.  1) That'd be a really shitty day for a hooker.  2) "Honest" homeless signs like this have been popping up alot lately, so I didn't deem it creative enough.

No worries, these peeps are still creating a few brilliant signs:

And, no, I didn't give any of these people money,
~RoB

"I'm broke as fuck, and you smell like piss." - Jenna Marbles (I just realized 'The Face' was uploaded on my birthday.  We're destined to be together.)

Mosswood Chronicles

These days I regularly play tennis at some very interesting courts.  They are at a park called Mosswood in Oakland.  They don't have grass growing in the cracks like my high school courts, but they are in really, really poor condition.  The reason we keep going back is because they have lights and they are always empty.  I've never once waited for a court.  Heck, I've never seen more than one other court in use.  The other court in use could easily be a soccer player as much as a tennis player.  Anyway, it's near a rougher part of Oakland, and these are some random things that have happened to me (more often the people I was playing) since we've started playing tennis there.

Fat Fan

A thug-looking man with his pants sagging stood next to the fence waiting for the bathroom on a Sunday evening.  I was on the opposite side of the court.  I could see that he was talking smack to my opponent, but it wasn't until he left that I got the scoop.  Apparently, his biggest comment was: "Don't underestimate the fat one.  I used to be fat."  My first thought was, 'does that guy think he's in good shape now?', but it changed to just being happy that he thought I was taking it to my college roommate, who is tall, in good shape, and gorgeous.
 
"He sure is working a lot less than you are," was the other comment he had, apparently.  I don't know whose skills this is a testament to.  Either I'm rocking the corner shots, or I'm firing wildly while he returns everyone right down the center back to me.  Either way, thanks for being the thug-est cheerleader I've ever had.

A Foot in the Grave, A Hand of Bridge

Early one hot Sunday afternoon, my old roommate and I were out there playing.  Slowly, old people started piling into the adjacent rec center.  When I say slowly, I mean that every other senior had a walker.  They cruised by the courts at paces close to a one-legged dog's top speed.  After the first dozen went by, I asked what was going on.  I was informed it was a big bridge tournament.  Not less than 10 minutes later, an ambulance pulled into the parking lot of the facility.  I immediately had a little giggle to myself, wondering what brand of hip it was bringing in for some unlucky senior.

5 minutes later, my friend joked about how the ambulance was going in circles.  I had to notify him that it was actually another ambulance that pulled into the driveway.  The ambulances were apparently just on stand-by. They were still there when we left almost an hour later.  I, of course, assume they were for the seniors playing bridge, but I guess I can't count out the short baseball players running around in the field dressed in capris with tall, striped socks and tshirts.  They were probably going for a 1930's baseball player look, but the guy that ran buy us just looked like a leprechaun with his shaped, ginger beard.

Line Judge

Annie and I were playing once, when a chubby African American kid started climbing all over the fence behind her.  Again, I could see he was saying stuff, but it is impossible to hear on these courts because they are located next to the freeway.  Apparently, he was behind her keeping score.  Annie claimed he had no concept of how tennis actually worked, and he just kept giving me points if I hit it hard and at her, no matter where it actually landed.  The best part was when I initially asked her "What was that little girl saying to you?" and Annie responded with "Actually, it was a little boy."

Beer, Anyone?

One time when we showed up to play, the trash can on the courts was filled with at least 8 broken up cases from 12-packs of beer.  I don't know what kind of crazy, homeless, house party went on in those courts, but it didn't smell like pee or puke, so whatever.

Rapper's Delight

This past sunday, the park was overflowing with loud club music, with a loud, driving bass beat.  In between points I would look over at what was going on, but I could never get a good view of anything.  At one point, a gaggle of random people collected beside the courts.  At some point, one white guy holding the leash of a bichon frise starts freestyling for the little girl on the shoulders of one of the other standers-by.  He went for a while.  I can't attest to the quality, since, as usual, I was on the other side of the court.  Maybe I should start standing by the bathrooms/rec center!  Or maybe I should look less intimidating, like the people I'm playing. ;)

I'd like to return to the Berkeley Rose Garden to play, but those bitches pissed me off when they complained we were playing too long.  We weren't.  No question.  Karma will get you old, crabby bitches.

Tennis in sketchy Oakland, anyone?
~RoB

Depositing $1 & ACT round 2

Annie transferred N dollars to my bank account today, to pay one of my credit card bills.  That's the number that I told her, even though it was actually N dollars and 60 cents.  Since I'm too pathetic to have enough money in my account to cover that 60 cents, I had to deposit $1 into an ATM today.  "Is your broke ass seriously depositing $1 in me right now?" says the ATM.  Fuck you, ATM.

Ever wonder how well you'd do if you got to take those standardized, high school tests again?  It just so happens that I got to retake the English/Reading section of the ACT today.  I went to an interview at a tutoring place.  They specialize in ACT/SAT tutoring, but also teach classes in the subjects.  I went there to be a math tutor, but they asked if I was comfortable teaching the english/verbal skills, also, since it would get me more hours.  They offered to give me an old test, to see how I would do now.  I agreed, and took it on the spot.  I'll get the score on Monday.  Let's hope I at least score better than 17-yr-old RoB.  I highly doubt that I'll take the tutoring position, since they want me to give up the rest of my weekends through June.  No thanks.

While walking to pick up Annie, I saw a homeless lady in a fur coat wrestle away a cane from a fellow homeless man.  He looked like he could really use the cane afterward.  I thought I was done with funny homeless incidents after moving out of homeless alley in L.A.  Apparently not.

Awesome,
~RoB