date: 09.08.2002
entitled: "Gold-Toothed Bums"

On any given day, I may be bombarded by about 3-5 homeless persons, asking for spare change or food. Normally, if they have a schpeel I deem worthy of my dollar bill, I will give it to them. Even though all human lives are worthy, I can't exactly give money to every needy person who asks, or I'd be sharing a box with him or her. However, I am always willing to give food away. Yesterday, Joe and I treated ourselves to a really nice, Ukrainian dinner in the East Village. As always, I couldn't finish mine. So I asked the waitress to box it up, with intentions of finding a homeless person who would like some tasty left-overs. And, as always, Joe and I searched high and low, zig-zagging up and down about 6 blocks, seeking someone, *anyone* who wanted my food. Why does this happen?! The first person we found was sitting in a wheelchair, holding out a cup for spare change. We thought, 'alright! here we go.' But he kindly said, 'Oh, no, but thank you very much. I'm stuffed!', with a smile. WHAT?! This doesn't happen. So we continued our search. We eventually found someone, but sheesh. It's kind of like when you really need a new pair of jeans, and you search high and low, in every thrift store in the city, and none of them fit right, or even have your size. Shame on me for comparing a human being to an article of clothing, but c'mon. we all know how it is.

song stuck in my head:

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