I'm a naked crimefighter

So I just got out of the shower and I'm sitting on my bed brushing my unruly hair. I hear this loud sound, the sound a car makes when it hits another car. I jump up and look out the window and some motherfucker hit my car! And I start to yell out the window and then I'm like oh shit I have no clothes on. So I'm trying to find something to throw on and my roommate comes in like gangbusters and is like "someone hit your car!" and I'm like "I know!". We are yelling at the top of our lungs like maniacs. I wrap a towel around my head in this like Marge Simpson turban style, and throw on my "Best Little Whorehouse in Texas" short silk robe (hey it's Oscar de la Renta bitches) and run out the house. And my roommate is like "he left!" And she jumps in her car and is like "Get in! Let's go get him!". At that moment, I had a quick flash of like am I really going to do this, I'm fucking naked, in the street, and I don't think I really properly tied this robe tight. But I jump in the car anyway and she's like there he is and we speed down the block and do some ill Dukes of Hazzard blocking with the car, and I hop out the car like Daisy, except I use the door handle and I kind of have to duck a little to get the towel turban all the way out. Instead of some guy its some litttle old African lady. And I'm like "open up!" like I'm the police or something. And she looks so scared, and I get all tough and gully, you know in my robe. I'm like I need to see your insurance, license, and fuckin' blood type NOW!!! And then she's like I have to get my license at my house and she gives me her car keys and goes off in the night. And I look at Christine, like woh dude. And then I notice that a cadre of Mexican men are on the corner, and then I'm like oh shit I have to get some clothes on. Except my house is like a block away, and Christine is picking up on the gangsta vibe and is like I'm going to watch this bitches car to make sure no funny business goes down, so I had to walk by myself back to the house. So I did the walk of shame times like a thousand. I'm in my fucking robe and flip flops, with a towel around my head, and I'm pretty sure I flashed my left tit when I ran out the house, and let's not forget the full frontal window show. Strangely enough after I put on clothes I feel less badass. The lady comes back, she just seems scared and pathetic, I start feeling like an asshole, there's no damage to my car really, and before I leave I show her how to turn on the car lights because she said she just bought the car and couldn't figure it out. And yeah so that's Tuesday night for you.

could it be?

i had an exceptionally great night

people are strange when they are strangers

My older brother came up in a conversation in passing the other day. And its stuck with me. I always talk shit about him. I don't hate him, I feel like I do sometimes, but its not the real picture. We used to be each others closest friends. When you move 6 times in 4 years, your brother becomes your de facto oldest and closest friend. He shared the same burden of having a funny Arabic name in the 80's, and asking kids at birthday parties if there was any pork in the cake. That time this woman in Atlanta called us Muslim terrorists at the Po' Boy restaurant, we turned it into a running 5 year joke about how dumb southerners were. We use to laugh for hours about the Abdul Maliks. This family in our Arabic school made up of two wives and over a dozen kids. They were poor. I don't know why it was so funny, but it was. When he used to get spankings, usually because he kicked me, I would cry outside his room. Eventhough he had made me cry minutes before. He was always smart, really smart. They tested him once and he qualified to be in MENSA. Somewhere along the line the genius turned into madness. One day he came up to me and said he was going to do a scathing critique of the Bible and the Qur'an. As the years passed and he holed up in his room, papers everywhere with crazy chicken scratch writings, I thought maybe this is not so great. But I was half way out the door, running away from my family. I wish I could know the exact moment when it all turned. I wish I could have known that he wasn't just being weird, or an attention seeker, or lazy, or all the things I've called him over the years. I wish that time when he told me he was going to kill himself I called myself calling his bluff and told him that he didn't need my permission. I wish I wasn't an asshole sometimes. I wish he wasn't an asshole. I wish he would talk to me, and not scowl and knock me out of the way whenever I visit home. I wish I didn't see such hatred in his face. I wish I knew why he was so so so angry. I wish when my family brings up his name they didn't have that look. The look that he's lost. I want them to fight for him to make him better. But he won't be better. I know that now. And there is nothing anyone can do.

i hate having nothing to do

...too many thoughts crowd in

too bad you had to drift away - janis joplin