My day off as a homeless bum

Sunday.

I am sick. I have been blowing my nose all day. My throat is sore, and I still taste the "water based paint" in the back of my throat. The construction workers were supposed to come over at 10 am but let me sleep until noon. I was gone by then and planned to stay out all day. I was out doing the same thing I do whenever I had a day off and was married. I went to the bookstore. i could not find a replacement copy for the lost Bukowski novel. I refuse to buy a new book. I want to pay used prices for my book since I already bought it.

I drove around to several different barber shops that I like but they were all closed. Sunday is not such a good day to have off if you want to get anything done other than watching the NFL.

I went to the movies to get out of the heat and fumes. I saw Tropic Thunder. It was pretty good and Tom Cruise is the funniest dancer ever. I walked around the mall a lot and bought a 5 dollar shake from some hamburger joint where the staff dances on the half hour. I remember a certain hitman in a Quentin Tarantino movie who was made aghast at the prospect of purchasing a 5 dollar shake, but with gas prices and the recession it seemed like no big deal to me.

I would like to gripe about all the aggressive cell phone salesman in the mall. There must be 30 kiosks of cell phone providers and every time you walk by one they "just want to ask you a question." I can assume a special place in hell for the man who allowed all these pushy cell phone salespeople to exist.

I retired to my room and barricaded myself away as much as possible from the fumes. I did not eat dinner but I did go to Walgreen's to purchase a new toothbrush (I am afraid that the paint fumes have soaked my old one), fruit juice and some water.

I had difficulty breathing all night and the A/C was out. Only in my room. The rest of the house was livable but smelled like paint. My room has yet to be painted so I chose to lie in a warm bed rather than breathe in toxic fumes.

Monday

I laid restlessly in bed until 7am when I took some aspirin. My fever subsided and I was able to breathe on my right side. My throat still hurt and I still taste paint and the workers woke me up at 9am. I stayed in bed till 12pm and woke and showered and ate a Whataburger (I never eat at Wendy's anymore) and now I am posting all this crap here.

I hope my readers will stick by knowing that all I can produce right now is what they are reading. I am in a weakened state. I lack energy of all sorts. I drove by the Fro's house 3 times yesterday. No one was home. I must assume he is missing. Who knows for how long? Maybe I will visit his parents to find out more. Either way it appears I am stuck in the house for the foreseeable future.

A young black woman checked me out on the way in to the library today. I must look worse than I feel. Which would be awful. My eyes are solid red. I am sure I have the super aids. I need to quit exposing myself to the virus. I will certainly catch it one day. When I do I will never get a girl friend. I will die alone.

The library is unbearable. Warm and moist with the constant stream of cell phones interrupting my concentration. A homeless man is seated at my table with McDonald's. I think he wants my coke. I think that he is living dangerously.

Every one near me sneezes. I blow my nose and go through two tissues as I type this post. I hate being sick. I hate the heat. It is only making the homeless situation difficult. I think the workers are expecting me to pack my belongings. They want to begin work today in my room. I will have no safe haven. They keep blaming Card Shark but I know that it is there fault. They don't ask him permission to start work. They just go where they need to. I blame them for all the headaches. I don't trust water based paint. I am sure I am developing some kind of disease from exposure.

The homeless man stood up to see if he could take a swig from my soda. The soda is placed on the table just outside of the computer room. You can't bring a drink in to the computer room and the homeless man wants to wash down his Big Mac with my cola. Fuck him. You can't have my fucking Coke dude!

I work in one hour. My heart is racing. I am out of wack. People want things my coke. I taste paint in the back of my throat whenever I swallow. I am having a bad day people. Don't you wish you were me? Today the library hid the Internet explorer from me. But I am tricky and I know that just because there is no icon for Explorer that there is still a way to access the Internet. Fuck them! They think they got me but they lose too!! My upper lip is sweating. That is not a good sign. I wipe the sweat as it collects in my goatee. I think people notice me wiping away at the sweat.

I type all this in under one hour. I checked my email. I forgot to mention that 2 of my former teen sister wives are now working at the movie complex I visited. I got a hug from one. You are jealous no doubt. She wore a cute bow tie. She held in her hands the broom and pan needed to scrape up popcorn. I did not ask her to get me into a second movie for free. Netflix finally delivered me a couple of movies.

Did I mention I went drinking on Friday? I was hung over all day Saturday.

Luck Charm please send me a link to your blog through email. I lost it on my roommates computer. I miss following your blog as it is a quick read!

Your homeless blogger,
Romius T.

p.s.

I need to poop right now. But I don't have any wipes. I will have to poop in at work where I can purchase some. I am spending money to fast. I can't save any. I hate when I hold in my poop all day at work. It makes for an uncomfortable day. I am already sick and exposed to toxic shock syndrome now I must shit. The body. No matter what. It imposes on us. Drags us into the here. I sweat. I ache. I need sex. I need to stop all the masturbating to the Olympic gymnasts. A few were 20 years old and bendy. I masturbated high to fumes and sudafed. I noticed my penis is bigger than you thought it was. I have a time magazine with a picture of a six inch ruler. I think you will be impressed ladies. A full two inches when flaccid. No problem at all. I need to stop typing I have 2 minutes left!