(no subject)
Interesting day at work today. We were out in Oakland, in a sleepier area than Lake Merritt/the Oakland hills. I wasn't finding too many people home, or responding positively until I got to this house where the door was open, and there was a fat dog on the other side of the screen. As I'm ringing the doorbell, it decides to get off it's fat ass and start to bark and get it's owner. This African-American (or possibly African - he had a slight accent) guy comes out and I start talking, doing my rap. I get around to asking him for $60, and he goes into the 'I can't afford that' schpiel and then says it depends on what he's got in his pocket. So he pulls out some cash, and he has $25 that he wants to donate and become a member with. I go through the form, which includes asking for phone number, and age. Well after I'm done, he starts to hit on me. He's 46. Asks me how often I'm in the neighborhood (once a year), can he join me on my walk, why do I get his number and he doesn't get mine. Nothing creepy or too uncomfortable (yet), but he's more than twice my age. Ok, whatever, gross, but walk off to the next street.
I try the first few houses, no response. Finally get to one where the door is slightly cracked open, but there's one of those metal screens/grills where I can't really see who I'm talking to. I can practically see pot oozing out of every open orifice of the house, the smell is so strong. A guy answers - I can tell he's somewhat young from his voice, nothing else. Get to talking, and ask him for $120. He laughs, gives me the usual I can't afford that. I try $60, which he sorta thinks about, after I split it into 2 months of $30. He says he doesn't have money that can go to this cause, which seemed to be interpretable as, 'if I give money to stopping the war, I can't afford to buy pot for the next few months'. Well then he asks me how old I am, which isn't too uncommon because most people think I'm not even old enough to vote. I tell him. Then he asks me if I'm single. Hmm... Like a fool, I say yes, but add that I'm at work, and I don't do that kind of thing while I'm working. He deems that acceptable. I throw in the story of the guy hitting on me at the previous house, how I was a little creeped out, and how he musta been at least 40, which made this guy hem and haw a little, as if he was a little insulted that I said 40 is old, which I think it is if you're hitting on me. I ask him to write a letter and some other questions, and he agrees to the letter, and then says he'd invite me in, but doesn't want to freak me out. Well he opens his door to take the sample letter I show him, and he's this African-Amer. guy, probably in his 30s. I guess he coulda been attractive (at least compared to the previous old guy) except that he wasn't wearing a shirt and had a ponch. And I guess the guy was only agreeing to write the letter because he thought I was attractive, because when I went to pick it up later, he just left the sample at his door. Bastard. He should stop smoking so much weed and work out a little.
Other than that, not a bad day, as one lady gave me a $100 without even listening to what we were about. Hey, I might even make staff and be able to go on the mobile to Seattle or Albequerque (sp?)!
I try the first few houses, no response. Finally get to one where the door is slightly cracked open, but there's one of those metal screens/grills where I can't really see who I'm talking to. I can practically see pot oozing out of every open orifice of the house, the smell is so strong. A guy answers - I can tell he's somewhat young from his voice, nothing else. Get to talking, and ask him for $120. He laughs, gives me the usual I can't afford that. I try $60, which he sorta thinks about, after I split it into 2 months of $30. He says he doesn't have money that can go to this cause, which seemed to be interpretable as, 'if I give money to stopping the war, I can't afford to buy pot for the next few months'. Well then he asks me how old I am, which isn't too uncommon because most people think I'm not even old enough to vote. I tell him. Then he asks me if I'm single. Hmm... Like a fool, I say yes, but add that I'm at work, and I don't do that kind of thing while I'm working. He deems that acceptable. I throw in the story of the guy hitting on me at the previous house, how I was a little creeped out, and how he musta been at least 40, which made this guy hem and haw a little, as if he was a little insulted that I said 40 is old, which I think it is if you're hitting on me. I ask him to write a letter and some other questions, and he agrees to the letter, and then says he'd invite me in, but doesn't want to freak me out. Well he opens his door to take the sample letter I show him, and he's this African-Amer. guy, probably in his 30s. I guess he coulda been attractive (at least compared to the previous old guy) except that he wasn't wearing a shirt and had a ponch. And I guess the guy was only agreeing to write the letter because he thought I was attractive, because when I went to pick it up later, he just left the sample at his door. Bastard. He should stop smoking so much weed and work out a little.
Other than that, not a bad day, as one lady gave me a $100 without even listening to what we were about. Hey, I might even make staff and be able to go on the mobile to Seattle or Albequerque (sp?)!