James came down to the house last night. We were watching TV and a local station ran a promo for this contest they're doing where you can win $13,000.

"You know what I'd do with $13,000?" Sonya asked us. "I'd put a down payment on a house."

"And I," James countered, "would buy $13,000 worth of chalupas."

That crazy James!

Personally I'd like a house. They just want so damned much money for them. And it's not even the house payment that screws me up; it's the down payment. I mean, they want a fuckin' brick of money before you can get a house. I don't know about y'all, but the little woman and I have a hard time saving money. We tend to need immediate gratification when we spend money. Save thousands? I don't know if we can do it.

Perhaps I should knock over a liquor store. Or rob a bank. Bank robberies happen all the time in Memphis; probably no one would notice.

I went to get some take-out at Huey's tonight. I parked the car (well, I stopped the car) at the corner of Main and Union and then walked down to the restaurant.

On the way back to the truck a homeless guy shambled up to me, holding a box in front of him.

"Hey, ma man," he said, "you wanna get some envelopes or pens for Valentine's Day?"

I looked in the box. Sure enough, there was a bunch of business envelopes and a bag of Bic pens.

"Not tonight, man," I said, strolling on by.

At least he was trying to romanticize his selling of most-likely-stolen office equipment. At least he was selling something instead of point-blank asking for money.

I think I have a new favorite homeless person.

Sonya and Jen are currently watching the Miss USA pageant. I'm not sure why. Anyway, they just showed a list of the judges. Among them was Andre "Bad Moon" Rison, wide receiver for the Kansas City Chiefs.

"You know," I remarked, "there's no one more qualified to judge a beauty pageant than an NFL wide receiver."

Beauty pageant lost what little luster they had for me long ago. I used to work them all the time in college. It's a cult, y'all, a perky little cult. I do, however, know how to tape boobs up, if necessary, so it's not like I never learned anything.

Anyway, I was a light and sound tech in college. Colleges have buttloads of beauty pageants. It seemed like every time I turned around I was having to deal with some neurotic pageant organizer herding contestants around like so much aerobicized cattle. The level of back-stabbing and viciousness amongst the contestants was breathtaking. Conversely, the sweetness shown to me was always nice. I guess you don't want the tech to fuck up your music. Or your lights.

Once, I was having a conversation offstage with the reigning Miss Body Beautiful. Miss Body Beautiful was basically an excuse for a bunch of sorority pledges to walk around in bathing suits while the rest of the greeks hooted at them. This was not entirely a bad thing.

Anyway, talking to the reigning MBB...

"So," I asked, "what are the duties of a Miss Body Beautiful?"

"Um," she said thoughtfully, "I have to be cute, I guess."

"Anything else?"

"Nope!"

So there you go.

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