July 26, 2004

The Ultimate Bust

My day started out very well today, for once this month. It was a new week, I was going to be paid soon, and I had just had a great weekend. Even the prospect of having to pay bills and rent this week couldn't bring down my mood. In less than one hour, I would be enraged, disgusted, and angry at the world. Only one thing in the world can ruin someone's mood so dramatically and that is the scourge that plagues the city of Berkeley - bums!

Having determined that at the rate I was working and eating, I was gunning for an early heart attack from a combination of stress and fat, I made up my mind to start going to the gym this week. The only problem is that I'm already pressed for time as it is, so the only option was before work, at 6:30am. Considering I now am tired by 11pm no matter what day it is, I thought I'd give it a shot Monday morning. I woke up at 6am, debated whether to get up, and finally decided to stop being such a lazy ass, and walked over to the RSF. After running for a while and getting up the endorphins, meeting several people I knew (which served the dual purpose of catching up with those said people and also establishing corroborative witnesses to my actually having been at the gym), and making an attempt at working out, I headed home, showered, and started off for work. As I was walking towards work, I thought to myself, Wow, I actually sort of enjoy mornings. That was my first mistake. My second was deciding to go to Jamba Juice.

In retrospect, if I hadn't made the foolish error of going to Jamba Juice, I might have gotten into work, and been in a good mood, but I was hungry after the gym and decided to make the trek. I got my smoothie uneventfully and decided to walk the long way back to work, since I had to stop off at the Post Office (to drop off my bills). Now, I'd like to think that three years of living in the insanity that is Berkeley has prepared me well to not be shocked by much, but I guess I was pretty wrong about that. As I walked past the alley by Cafe Milano, my eyes errantly glossed over the scene. I immediately did a double take; in the alley was a bum, standing with his back to the street, pants at his ankles, ass hanging out of his boxer shorts, with his right hand making jerking movements and a light beating noise echoing off the walls of the alley. OH MY GOD! EW! EW! EW! WHAT THE HELL!? Needless to say, I was shocked, disgusted, repulsed, and amazed, all at once. As I walked away as quickly as possible without running, all I could think was, why do I always have the most awful encounters with bums? I mean, is it Fate or something? I had several chances to avoid this traumatizing scene, but for some reason, I saw it anyway.

My repulsion quickly turned to unrestrained anger. My annoyance with the bums has been waning over the years (don't confuse this for acceptance or tolerance), primarily because I don't have time to be angry with bums, but this image brought back all the memories of sophomore year. What is wrong with these asshole bums! It isn't enough that they smell, beg for money, piss, vomit, and defecate on our streets, not to mention disturb the peace, mug helpless students, and waste our tax dollars, but they have to jack off in public at 8am too? Man, I'm glad I didn't have a gun at that point, or I might have gone back to do some community service. Seriously, I've had it with these pieces of shit. They need to be rounded up and dumped on a deserted island where they can be smelly and dirty and jobless together, and not disturb everyone else with their antics. Better yet, we need to take them all out, Full Metal Jacket style. The moment I have some money, I plan to invest in a scheme to eliminate bums, and I don't mean rehabilitation - unless of course, rehabilitation means locking them up and throwing away the key. Guess I better get cracking on my online business, right?