[Stealing past the windows of the blissfully dead]

I have the weekend off, and though I could drive in to the ‘Boro and hang with my homies, I’m choosing to stay in Birmingham and get out of my apartment and actually DO something for once. It’s a toss-up between going to the art museum or visiting the Vulcan statue. I could probably do both if I tried hard enough. I’ve also heard good things about the Birmingham Botanical Gardens. But I’ve never even been to Cheekwood, so who am I to suddently want to look at flowers?

I would like to go see Hedwig and the Angry Inch, but that would require money and the chutzpah to go alone, two things that I’ve never really possessed.

Two cars met today in a tango of crushed metal, right outside my window. It made me think of Dane Cook when I heard the squeal and the flat impact. I ran to my window and felt really dirty when the two vehicles were literally right outside, just on the street below, the drivers getting out and inspecting the damage. No one was hurt, but I’ve been in enough wrecks to empathize with that distinct mixture of heartache and embarrassment that’s enough to turn your stomach sour.