Culture on the Cheap
The Gruesome Twosome
Yesterday my husband and I went to Manhattan. Being the colossal klutz I am, I managed to utterly destroy my cell phone last week. The beginning of our jaunt in the city was spent at the Verizon store on Broadway securing a replacement. What happened next will be permanently ingrained in my olfactory memory.
As we were exiting Forbidden Planet my new phone rang. It was my buddy Rachael. Not knowing how to use my new toy, I hung up on her. She called back. I promised to call her back in a moment. And I did— but not before passing by some crazy homeless dude on 13th Street shouting at his reflection in storefront window while doing his best Kung Fu moves.
This guy was bat shit crazy. If a convention was held for insane homeless people, this chap would be crowned the craziest of them all. I took note and called my buddy Rachael. That’s when it happened.
Gasping for air, I yelled into my cell phone:
Rachael, I have to call you back!
Not only was this dude the most insane homeless person I have ever beheld, he was the creator of the MOST MALODOROUS PILES OF BUM SHIT I have ever whiffed. The above photographs do not even come close to conveying the horror my nose experienced. Even 24 hours later the sight of these shits make me throw up a little.