To be Crazy or not to be Crazy

I love crazy people. Part of me is also jealous of them. I wished I had the ability to do the wild things that pop in my head on a daily basis. If that were the case, I'd walk down the street in a blue suite blazer, boxer briefs, and dress shoes with sweat socks, while drinking a beverage with an umbrella in it. I'd only speak like a 70's pimp. I'd go to all the places that I despise because of their long lines. I'd go to the Post Office and mail something, to the supermarket for groceries, and Target for house supplies. I'm sure people would be more than willing to let me come and go as I pleased.

Ron Artest must have been in a rush as well when he decided to drive a REAL race car on the streets of L.A. Let's just hope that he stayed in the passing lane.