Tag Archives: hobo

Gone Away

The guys who live next door have left town so all is quiet at the house, it’s strange kind of quiet that we’re not really used to. Since the guys are on vacation no one knocked on our door last night asking for beer and for a while at least no one will be getting high on the front steps. Not once in the last three days have The Slackmistress and I asked one another “What is going on over there?” The apartment next door is a strange place that will make you shake your head and ask questions that I can’t answer. The question I ask myself is: What are they taking a vacation from? Has sitting shirtless on the steps started to wear on them? They don’t have jobs, in fact I don’t even know how they manage to feed themselves; I’m guessing that they captured a leprechaun who gave them its treasure but I can’t confirm that. It is the most likely explanation though for how two unemployed guys are taking month long vacations while I’m here with Johnny Timeclock trying to budget a five day trip home. What am I doing wrong? Is working hard, paying my bills and having insurance the wrong way to go? Maybe the hobo life is for me.

Speaking of hobos, as part of something I’m working on I set aside time recently to read through my own blog archives. It’s only fair that I read mine considering that if I’ve been to your blog I’ve read your archives. I was looking for things I may have forgotten about and I discovered that in almost four years of keeping this going hobos are the third most popular topic here right behind robots and midgets but ahead of lazy eyed baristas.

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Take a Walk Tulsa

For eight years I’ve lived in Los Angeles and in that time I’ve never seriously considered living anywhere else. Los Angeles has everything I need; warm weather, equal amounts of cheap eats and fine foods, easy access to two major league baseball teams, a lovely women who married me and a wonder dog named Daisy.

While Los Angeles is home, in my head there has been a list of cities that I’d consider moving to if circumstances made living in LA unbearable, circumstances such as the closing of all of the Chicken and Waffle places if the hobo thank you card* was outlawed. The list of cities I’d consider moving to has included New York, Tulsa, and the mythical land of Pinball and Trampolines but after spending three days in the greater Chicago area I’ve amended my list. Tulsa was unfortunately knocked out of second place after my first visit to downtown Chicago. Nina took me into downtown Chicago yesterday morning and showed me around for a while before we headed to the cool comfort of the Art Institute of Chicago, for some culture and lunch.

Being born and raised in the Shadow of New York City I have very specific requirements for what makes a city great: First the train stations have to smell like urine on a hotplate. The second thing a great city has is food being sold in the streets and finally; every truly great city has crazy people on the streets telling passersby about Jesus. Chicago has all of these things and much more and I haven’t even been there at night yet. Sorry Tulsa, you’re in 3rd place now.

(Hobo Thank You Card = Handjob from a hobo)

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What Happens Early In The Morning

4:00 AM Wednesday, 4th of July

The rush to get to the airport is underway. We are packed, showered and almost ready to go, Nina has taking Daisy out to pee and The older Slackbrother and I are waiting for her to get back when there is a faint knock on the door…

Nina’s brother looks at me, then looks at the door and then back at me. Who could be knocking at my door at 4:00 AM? Nina wouldn’t knock and Daisy can’t so who could it be? Nina’s brother reaches for the door and opens it to find a shirtless, barefoot and disheveled man at the door. We had seen him just a few hours before, when he was shirtless, and disheveled but still wearing shoes. This was no ordinary hobo, this was a resident hobo; a man who rose from hanging out in my bushes to living inside and paying rent in the apartment across from mine. How appropriate to see him on 4th of July; after a second of hesitation this symbol of the American dream said:

“You got any beer”

Just your typical 4 AM beer run right?

He explains:

I just need one more beer so I can go to bed. I tried to go to the store but it was locked”

Nina’s Brother explains “That’s because it’s 4 in the morning” and he turns to me and says “Do we have anything?”

I said no without checking because you know what they say about giving beer out before dawn, it just encourages them to come back; but I softened and went to the fridge to grab him one.

“Here you go, now get to bed”.

My neighbor studies the bottle closely, the way a man in the desert might look at a bottle of water that suddenly fell from the sky and says;

“This is perfect, now I can get some sleep.”

As we drive to the airport we wondered aloud, do you think that today was the first time he did that or does he do that everyday and this was the first time we happened to be awake? We just don’t know, but that’s the price we pay for living at the center of hobo town.

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Pick a Name

I believe that houses need names. When I was about seven my brother and I called the house across the street “The Bad Man House” because of the time he yelled at us for drawing pictures on his car…stupid jerk.

I’m not drawing on cars as much nowadays but I still believe in house names and mine is no exception. For the past few years I’ve referred to my place as the Be the Boy World Headquarters and the neighbors referred to it as…”The House with the Crazy People” but now it needs a new name because the current one; “The Slackmistress and Mr. Boy Detective Agency, Be the Boy World Headquarters and SlackDen” is a lot to type each time I want to mention the place so I’m making a list and accepting suggestions for a new name…there may be prizes involved with this.

Suggested New Names for the House

House of No Retard Sex

The Old Skee Ball Factory

Hobo Junction

Waffle Hand-job Alley

Casa Roboto

For some of the names above you can click the link to read the story that inspired it, and if you need a visual there are photos linked in yesterdays post and a few from around the house below.

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Be the Boy Q & A

Questions People Have Been Asking Me Lately:

Are you going to shut up about this girl?

Probably Not

How did you trick her into dating you?

I’m not sure; perhaps I unwittingly made a pact with the devil. If I did make a deal with Satan I hope that it isn’t settled by a fiddle contest, and not just because I have never played one. Honestly I just think that a fiddle-off is pretty stupid way for the devil to settle things. I’d rather just give my soul and call it a day.

Where have the hobos been?

They are still around, in fact, yesterday was a big day as a new member of the hobo team appeared. The waffle loving, hard drinking hand job offering strangers who like to hang around my house have also embraced diversity since the new guy is the first black hobo. I’m happy to see that the hobo color line has been broken, and Dr. King’s message is still being heard. Well done hobo Dave, you are the Jackie Robinson of guys who pee in my backyard.

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