Hollywood: Land of Ass

I'm having a "Calgon take me away" kind of week. As I was driving to work, I neede to restore balance by looking at the world through Hellcat-vision glasses (with naughty librarian frames). I was imagining a perfect life. For instance, I passed Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles and remarked on how lucky I am that it is actually good for my heart.

Adam Corolla was on the radio, and I thought about the time I got to open-palm slap him one time, just for fun.

I was not driving my Jetta in this morning fantasyland, either. In fact, I was cruising down the road in a Lexus SC430 that is renowned for being the most efficient hybrid ever.

I was rocking the Dreamworld today.

That is, until the butt showed up.

A small, faded red hatchback was parked on the side of the road. A man was crouched on the street next to it, frantically looking for something he dropped down near the gas pedal. He must have really needed that 'lude or whatever it was that he had dropped, because he was able to completely ignore the breeze that was whipping past his entirely exposed posterior.

I was particularly mortified because his ass was really red and chapped. This was a residential area, for chrissakes. There are children who live 25 feet away who have some innocence left. They cling to it desperately enough, they don't need Joe SchmuckButt ruining their whole year of kindergarten in one, fleeting search for an eight ball remnant.

It rubbed me the wrong way. Not the ass itself, thank god, but just its presence.

This reminded me of a time recently when I was on my way home from the gym and saw another ass. It belonged to a homeless man pushing a cart filled with newspaper, platform shoes, and chicken wire. I shrugged it off, assuming that he was on his way to the homeless shelter to create a life size papier mache drag queen that he would bring to life using a toaster, some vaseline, and a 1/2 cup of Tang. No big deal.

As the memory passed, I remembered incredulously that I chose to live here. I never saw shit like this is Austin. Adults only showed their bottoms when they were wearing assless chaps to the gay bar, or while running naked through the capitol building. You know, places where kids are terrified and keep their faces buried in their lunchboxes, only stealing a glance at the outside world when they hear their name called by a tall, shaven-headed lesbian friend of their mom's from the vegan co-op.

Apparently my Rosy-Hellcat-Imagination Glasses weren't strong enough for AssMan. Until next time, nefarious villain...

zounds. g