The Hook Brings You Back...

8:02 AM. Good Friday, 2004. I pull up to a red light at the corner of North Avenue and Boulevard just east of Midtown. In front of my car hops along a woman in her mid thirties. Hops, because she has difficulty running in 4 inch high heels. A chilly morning, so it was good that she was wearing leg warmers. Her hair was stringy, like a shaker knit sweater come undone. She was skinny enough to squeeze through the tightest cranny, a crack perhaps. She had places to go... Namely, the teal Chevy S-10 pickup in the Pizza Hut parking lot. The driver inside the cab had flagged her down. 8:02 AM. Jesus wept.

For a while I took a different route to work, and I was forced to miss out on the daily hooker sightings. Now, I drive down Boulevard every morning. I wonder if many people actually know that hookers get up really early in the morning.

Anyway, I'm going out of town this weekend, so light posting is likely. Saturday night is Lobsterfest, when the Douchebag family converges upon Massengill Manor and eliminates the "summer stash" of Mother's gin. Full report Sunday or Monday. Let's hope I don't end up with vomit on me, like the 2000 edition. Which also ruled.