Nice To Meat You

So, I check out some music at the Fat Cat tonight with Shandera and Bussey, and the boobs they care for.
It ends. We part ways.
I decide that I want some 'street meat' for the car ride home (by myself). As I'm waiting for the vendor to ladel up my meal, it dawns on me, amongst the surrounding throngs of drunk idiots, that I am the only person alive who would buy 'street meat' while sober.
So what do I do? I act like I'm drunk as I buy it. I teeter as I count my change, and I act like I'm having a really hard time tallying the numbers required to make four. Then I purposefully make a mess while applying my fixin's. Granted, I would have made a mess regardless, but still, I was particularly attentive to making a real spectacle of a mess tonight.
Then I get into the car and decide not to eat it right away, but to drive home, get high, and then eat it.
So, I drive home one-handed, while holding an Italian sausage that's balanced atop a roll most likely purchased from Sobey's (profit margin), licking melted cheese off of my thumb as I'm signaling. Because sometimes, just sometimes, I am Homer Simpson.
I did come up with a few ideas for a new bit on the way home though, so that's cool. I'm not about to divulge it in this post, though. I hope to perform it instead.