The bitter taste of regret

EmCat doesn't condone regrets. Even when you do stupid stuff, you should just accept that fact that you've done what you've done and move on. Don't be a little bitch about it. But if there is one thing, and one thing only, that EmCat really, truly and deeply regrets, it would be that one time we were riding the L and didn't buy poems from a homeless man.

Let us break it down:

EmCat was coming home late one night from another of our favorite places to eat when all of a sudden a homeless dude walked into the car and announced that he needed money and, get this, was selling poems. Now, EmCat has had plenty of run-ins with the homeless on public transportation in the past. Who could forget the Sophomore year French Toast fiasco? (Long story short, laminated resumes with head shots won't get you places).

Normally we just avoid looking at each other and smirk shamelessly during these homeless people's tirades and this particular time it was no different. Oh, how foolish we were! For the low, low price of $1, we could have bought a poem! But that's not it. For $5 we could have bought a WHOLE BOOK of one-of-a-kind poems! That's right, for the price of a foot-long sub at Subway, we could have purchased a (potentially invaluable) book of original poetry.

Also, unlike the sub, which would have only satisfied us for that one moment, this book of poems could STILL be giving us joy and happiness to this very night. And, of course, since life is unfair, we've seen pretty much every weird, smelly homeless guy on L EXCEPT for poetry man. Hundreds of nights have gone by and still, no poetry for sale.

Moral of the story: when a man offers to sell you a piece of his soul in the form of poetry that looks kinda sketch cause it's on wrinkled paper and it's kinda dirty, BUY IT!! Ask him if he takes debit, whatever, JUST BUY IT!

xoxo

Sidenote: To that old hag sitting across from us during Poetry Man's relentless sales pitch, we saw you judging us with your beady little eyes as we bit our lips and tried with all our might NOT to laugh in Poetry Man's face. We saw you judging us when Poetry Man begged for just one person on that train to buy one little poem for one little dollar. We saw you judging us when Poetry Man finally exited the train, defeated, and we could finally let out those giggles we had struggled so hard to contain. We saw the judgment in your eyes, thinking to yourself "What terrible human beings those girls are! Do they not care about the rising homelessness epidemic in the US?!" But you know what, we didn't see you exactly diving into your purse and shelling out a goold ol' Lincoln to buy some priceless poetry either. So you can take all that judgment and stick it up your butt. You're just as bad as the rest of us.