He's on his way. Yes, he's on his way. No, not the guy from the North Pole. Not the guy with the reindeer. The guy from God knows where. I know it's him.
He dresses in red. He has a large black belt. Not like in Tae Know Do. Like in overweight. Like in Grossly Obese. OK. Judge not, lest ye be judged says the Good Book. Nobody is perfect, and that includes me.
I guess he lives around here. He's old. And Old Town Pasadena is a three-minute walk from here. Restaurants. Shopping. Police on bicycles. Police with dogs. I usually keep a stash of doggy treats in my back pockets just in case, I'm ever stopped for jay-walking. It's happened once or twice. OK, more than once or twice.
Being frisked in public by yapping German Shepards is not my idea of Nirvana, especially during this festive season. Makes me feel like I'm in some type of Quentin Tarantino W.W.II B-movie.
Not much is happening for Christmas. Will stream my fave holiday flicks: "A Christmas Story" and "Love, Actually." After breakfast at The Mission and lunch at The Shelter, and late in the evening, after the Demons come, I'll probably eventually pass out from my usual holiday fare, those crinkly gas-station packages of Twinkies I bought back when Dexter was still in Season Two, washed down by a couple of cold ones. Coors Light.
I'll say hi if I run into my buddy that dresses in red. The guy with the large black belt. I think he works and might actually live in that shelter down by the LA river.
I hope all your before-Christmas dreams have come true. I hope all your after-Christmas misdemeanors and felonies have been expunged. Once again. There is a God. And She's always looking out for us.
Happy Holidays.
Big plans for 2023: A new Headshot. More auditions. More dance classes. Meeting the second Miss Right.
But, enough about me...
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