One of the things I love about living in Los Angeles: the slick Willie style of the indigent. Today I was walking by a homeless woman who looked liked one of the be-tightened, peroxided, hopelessly-fashionable, indeterminately-aged women who roam this city like urban samurai. She was sitting at one of the outdoor tables near The Coffee Bean a block from my job and she looked as if she was chatting away on a bluetooth. It was only when I got closer (and started paying attention) that I saw that she was guarding a shopping cart full of her earthly possessions and was just yapping to herself. Now, people are always going on about how you can't tell the difference between crazy people and people on their hands-free sets. Whatever. Of course you can. For one thing, people holding actual conversations actually look as if someone else is [occasionally] talking back. There are pauses, however infrequent, however quick. That's how this woman looked. She was just yabba dabba doozing away, and her skank chic was indistinguishable from that of the women I work among (and probably my own as well). It was bananas, yo!*
*Say this in your best Ashanti voice to get the full effect.