When I grow up, I'm going to be a clown

Or more likley a street performer. Like someone you might see in the French Quarter of New Orleans working for change and small bills. It seems to me that if you have some simple skill in a thing like juggling, you are never without bus fare or a meal, just spend a few hours in a busy park or street corner, and you have a ticket to the next time. Just the thing for a vagrant like me.

The circus is in town, and boy, was it something else! Contortionist, motorcycles in the globe of death, trapeze, jugglers, pretty girls doing acrobatics, clowns, peanuts, cotton candy, hot dogs, the whole nine yards. I was like a little kid (was?) bouncing up and down in my seat eating cotton candy and gasping at the neato stuff going on in center ring.

After the show dropped off the friend I went with and ran by Basha's for some supper. After spending entirly too long evaluating the differant varities of frozen pizza, I made my way to the checkout lines, but alas the cute checker wasn't working that day. Paid. No, no need for a bag, just my frozen pizza and a 32oz Miller High Life. (the Chanpagne of Beers) Dinner in hand, I spot her at the customer service counter and absently get in line, trying to figure out what reason I could have; no don't have money for a lotto ticket, not getting a money order... And then I was standing there next in line, dinner in hand and no reason for being there. I would like to say I asked her when she got off and that we went to dinner and had a lovely evening. Instead I grunted something incoherant and gave a dorky smile and sort of shuffled off. And am now eating frozen pizza and looking at clown colleges on the net. Seems there is a clown seminar in vegas in a few months. Hmm...