Glazed Bagels and Broken Chandeliers

*Ding Dong*
“Oh! You must be here to fix the chandelier! Come right in.”
*I enter and look up at the ceiling at a chandelier with one light out*
“Ma’am. I have to admit something.”
“Yeess?”
“I don’t know a thing about chandeliers. In fact, I’m here with the DNC. We’re trying to defeat George Bush.”
“Oh dear, no. You should probably leave.”
If I had fixed her chandelier and accepted payment, would that have counted as a campaign contribution?
There’s only one Democrat on Blythewood Rd. in Baltimore.
On Gladstone St. (aptly named), I interrupted a 20 somethings smoke session. He gladly hooked me up with whatever weed money he could scrounge up in his pocket. As I was leaving, I said, “And please don’t forget to vote on Nov. 2nd.”
He giggled and said, “Aww maaan. I’m always forgetting things” and then he giggled again. I’m guessing this is why marijuana legislation rarely acquires enough votes.
We stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts on our way back to Baltimore. I asked for a glazed bagel by accident. I meant donut. I think this means my mind is a bit exhausted. I need some sleep.
I’m dedicating this night to all the glazed bagels and the broken chandeliers of the world.