MOOOOOLE MAN!!

Okay, so Thursday morning my alarm went off a little after 6am and I hit the 'snooze' button. The next thing I know it's quarter after and I'm still in bed. Shit! I pop out, throw on clothes, don't even bother to re-up my hair, hop on my bike and groggily pedal towards the gym and yoga class.

As I'm approaching Wicker Park, there is a man walking across the street in the same direction I am going. He calls out to me, "Stuart is no longer a mole man!" At first my brain didn't recognize what he said because he said it with such confidence and enthusiasm, as if a street were finally re-opened, or this was the happiest day of his life because a friend finally re-surfaced. Then he wished me a great day and I pedaled onward, very confused. It could have been Simon or Sherman, but I think it was Stuart because it sounds more like a street than the other two. And it also could have been "merman." (Sherman, merman?) Regardless, I sure do love the crazy homeless people in Chicago.

Later that day I was recounting the story to my roommate on a walk up to DQ and we just happened to be passing the same area when a homeless woman jokingly said, "Oooh! I'm gonna tell him! I'm gonna tell him you were talking about him!" and I turned around, laughing, and said, "You better not!" Her and her pals loved that.

We got dipped cones; I got twist dipped in chocolate. It was delicious.