Friday, January 8, 2010

Keepin' It Real In Mobile

Mobile, Alabama. For such a small town, there is a surprising amount of bums in this jam. It's funny how you're only scared of unfamiliar bums. I will be walking around the city here and the craziest no-toothed-one-legged-cat-throwing-rooster-crowing hobo will spit on me or knife me and I will be all "Shut up hobo, no one cares!" but if a foreign hobo even farts in my general direction, I would probs throw my wallet at him or pee my pants. Or both. At once!

Something else I discovered in Mobile is that it is super hard to tell the difference between a Southerner and a Gay. It must be the accents. That lazy Southern drawl always make me unsure whether we're talking rainbow flags or confederate. It grew on me though, although down South they really like to talk and even going to the Rite-Aid to buy cans of whipped cream takes roughly an hour because before you know it, you're telling the checkout dude about your struggle with lactose intolerance and the new birth control you're on and next thing you know you're writing down your home address so you guys can send each other Christmas cards. Shit is slow as shit down there.

But the best way to get a feel for the city, is riding around smoking the pot in a pickup truck with some local dudes Chris befriended at the bar. Am wishing I had some dirty anecdote about the "South Rising Again" right now. But I really liked Mobile, in a battle of the Mo's, it would totally kick that pussy "Montgomery's" ass.

Too bad I didn't take a single picture of it.

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