I Get Bummed, Part the First

Well, today's been quite the mini-odyssey, I must say. I decided to go and cash this month's prints cheque from Gorblimey at the Money Mart this morning, a chore I'd been putting off all week. I went good and early, hoping to avoid panhandlers. A forlorn hope, I know, but there it is. I tried. I have quite the chequered history with panhandlers in this city. There's one in particular I absolutely dread running into. I first met her a couple of years ago, while on a shopping trip downtown. She looked sad, small, and beaten up, and I figured she could probably use a break. I didn't have any cash on me, so I gave her a diamond ring instead. It wasn't anything extravagant: the diamond was small. It was worth two or three hundred dollars, at most. I stopped to chat for a minute or two, then went on home. A couple of weeks later, I met the same panhandler, and this time she told me a story about how someone had beaten her up and stolen the ring. (This surprised me immensely, since I gave it to her assuming she would pawn it the minute my back was turned.) I didn't believe her, but I gave her another ring anyway. I had lots.

After that, I didn't see her for a couple of months. Then, one morning I was standing outside the office, waiting for my boss to arrive and let me in, when who should come mooching round the corner but that bum, asking for money! I didn't have much on me, and I wasn't wearing any jewels either, so I gave her my breakfast instead, and a little bit of change I found in my pocket. Now, get this--that ungrateful bitch counted the change, which amounted to a little over a dollar, spat on the ground, and said: "That's all?" I said: "Oh, you little...!" I started chasing her down the road, meaning to smack her with my umbrella. Fortunately for her, I can't run very fast, and she got away without trouble.

Now, every time I see her out begging, I try to hide behind the collar of my coat*.

Another bum story, this one from just a couple of days ago: I went downstairs to get some pizza to eat, and there were some bums outside the pizza place. There always are. As I was coming out with my pizza, two of them came up to me, blocking my path. They were in aggressive pursuit of the contents of my wallet.

"Spare some change? Please? Come on!" I generally try to be a decent person, so I balanced my pizza on the crook of my arm and started rooting through my purse for toonies (Canadian two-dollar coins). Unfortunately, I had a lot of old receipts and similar trash in there as well as my money, so it was taking some time.

Impatient, one of the bums started peering into my purse, and then he--can you imagine?--reached out and grabbed for a $20 I had in there! I was very angry at his presumption, and hit him in the face with my pizza. And then I mushed it around a little, just for good measure. I hope he liked cheese and extra pepperoni. His friend started laughing at him, and I made my getaway. It wasn't until I was back upstairs, sitting in front of my computer, that I realized I had nothing to eat.

Anyway, that's why I was out so early today: to avoid beggars. As luck would have it, I was not successful. Although the Money Mart was just opening when I arrived, there was already a bearded gentleman spare-changing outside. I gave him a couple of dollars on my way out, and then he tried to hug me. Who goes around hugging strangers? How does he know I haven't got fleas? Dammit! I hate huggy people to begin with--I don't like to be touched unless it's strictly necessary. And I especially can't stand it when complete strangers try to put their hands on me. I ducked the embrace quite gracefully, patting him on the shoulder instead, and scurried off as fast as possible, before he could try for a kiss.

I was thinking about drawing on the way home--I've got a lot to do today, which I am going to get started on as soon as I've finished writing this and eating my dinner. (I'm doing both at the same time.) I was trying to come up with a way to make a greyscale picture that involves a lot of concrete walls look interesting, mulling over texture ideas. I think I'm going to try for the water-damaged look: lots of streaks and runnels, and perhaps the occasional crack. I drew in all the general shapes and values yesterday, and worked out a few perspective and lighting problems, but it is still looking pretty vanilla at this stage. I have a tight deadline for this set of pictures, but I don't want to rush them too much, either, and end up with a lot of boring rubbish.

So, as I was walking and thinking, some low-life came nosing around, wanting to sell me some smack. Oh, yeah. That's what I want. Heroin, and lots of it. Sleeping is more fun than working, anyway.

I didn't buy any heroin, but I did try a sandwich from the Sub Garden, which claims to sell gourmet subs. Don't believe a word of it--their sandwiches are the flattest, most tasteless things in the world. And their bacon is stringy, to boot. (Says me, in my capacity as impromptu restaurant reviewer.)

Nothing much else has transpired so far today, so this is me signing off.

* [Footnote added in August of 2005] - Four years later, this is still true. What is she, Ubiquibum?