This morning when I took Jack out to pee, I saw a hooker standing across the street from me and when she noticed me she smiled and said, “Good morning.”
I nodded and mumbled “Good morning” back, but it struck me that my definition of a Good Morning and her definition of a Good Morning are probably pretty different.
At that point in my day, a good start to me means that I got Jack to piss right away, I caught all the highlights I wanted to see on Sportscenter and I didn’t curse the heavens when I was trying to get my tie to cooperate.
For the hooker, I imagine it’s a slightly varied version.
In fact, for a hooker to have a Good Morning, it means that she had a Good Night, because that’s when all the action happens.
It must have meant that she got at least three guys to have sex with her, and maybe if she was lucky it was all at once – much more time efficient.
After that was done, she probably had some time to kill, so maybe she made a visit to the local crack dealer and got high while listening to The Beach Boys or something relaxing like that.
Then, feeling good and feeling fine, she probably roughed up the new girl on the block just to let her know “who the real bitch is.”
So when she finally ran into me, with my half open eyes and t-shirt on backwards, she probably thought I needed something to lift my spirits, thus the cheery greeting.
And even now, I bet her day is going better than mine, because I’m here at work and she’s probably passed out on the sidewalk somewhere, not a care in the world.
Well, aside from worrying about when she’s going to have sex with a random person for money again, but c’mon – who who hasn’t been there before?