i am not a detective

well, i'll be honest. i like to pretend i am one. i skulk about in the shadows taking notes on certain people, along with pictures of them, coming in and out of suspicious places. i have binders devoted to a few lucky souls and as much as it really eats up the day, i am going to continue recording their lives because you just never know where it could take me. okay, that's total crap. first, there is no one here worth following. even if i did, it would just lead me to the sort of friendly in a hyped up criminal way neighborhood drug dealer's, which is conveniently located two doors down or the local convenience store which is less conveniently located a couple of blocks away. i could quite literally follow everyone just fine by sitting out front of my apartment. that's why i prefer the side yard. well, that and the side yard also has the most awesome shade tree that comes straight out of a fairy tale and i swear if i could just sit still and stare at it a little longer, a gnome would pop out of it somewhere. yeah, that awesome. yeah. oh, and the swing. the side yard is just so user friendly and welcoming...

what the hell was i getting at... oh right...

i am going to find a childhood friend in miami. i am not sure how i am going to go about doing this as i am not familiar with south beach at all and not really interested in going there unless it's to sit on a bench with a cup of coffee and watch the insanity that these people call life. last time i people watched there i saw a guy biking around with a rooster in his bike basket. i saw him more than once. i saw other things too but this guy stuck out the most in my mind. roosters in bike baskets are not all that common for me to see. i still wonder what kept the feathery friend in the basket. i'm not a rooster specialist or anything but the ones i have had the pleasure of knowing were all rather skittish. i readily admit i never tried putting them in a bike basket so who knows, maybe they are naturals at that kind of thing...

um, we interrupt this blogcast to bring you... okay, i shit you not. i just went on a little hunt. here you go. it's mr. clucky to you and so sorry, but he prefers the handlebars now. stupid human idiot. everyone knows a rooster prefers handlebars over a basket. there is simply nothing manly about a basket. ever. hey, why don't you just drape a little purse over his shoulder and call him a chick while you are at it. der.

so yeah, i'm on a strange little mission. it would be a lot easier if i could simply call him and be all yo bro i'm living right near by and we should catch up, but my phone went ballistic a while back and in the process of changing certain ringtones and pictures, it also lost some numbers. silly technology. we all know it's here to make life more efficient. don't act like that's not true...

i'm done with the no punctuation or capitals... done i tell you. also, how many keyboard replacements equal a new laptop right... so now begins the question of what to get. this internal battle crap has to end at some point. when it does, the world shall cease it's rotation and fall right off it's axis, i swear. don't worry, i'd never support the demise of this fabulous and interesting place we call home. i'm going to keep freaking out on the inside and you'll remain safe. promise. for the most part. i mean, i could be walking right next to you and you can still trip on something, fall down and cut your knee without me being able to do a damn thing about it besides laugh and help you up and then boo over the rip in your pants. i'll also be sure to point out that rips in knees are fashionable for some people, cause that's the type of friend i am.

on a totally unrelated side note, my super gay, not so interesting, very judgmental, bike riding enthusiast neighbor is calling me sarah palin behind my back because he just can't seem to remember my name. luckily i have all the other people in the neighborhood to thank for this handy piece of information. you can kind of see his point though. it's a tough one. all one syllable and what not. nevertheless, as much as yes, i can see russia from my front porch, and yes i think predators in yellowstone should be run down during breeding season, shot at by helicopters and die an awful agonizing death leaving their young to suffer and starve, i just don't see the connection.