Do Gooder Debacle

Last night during a drunken misjudgement, Writer Chick and I decided walking through the drive thru of MacDonald's would be a good idea. Of course, for any woman dwelling in the City of Angels, this is absolutely not the best idea for your image or your thighs, but despite that, we choose our drop off point there, and decided we'd just walk home to burn off the calories. You can't walk through the drive thru, it's highly frowned upon, so in what most would call another lack of judgement, we hoped in the car with a lone hottie. There's two of us, what would he possible do to us? Yea, whatever. He ordered 10 cheeseburgers, and paid for ours. (Gentleman). What would you need 10 cheeseburgers for, I slurred, you have a bunch of stoned dudes back at your place waiting for their munchie fix? This could be a lucky night for my sidekick and I!

Nope, he replies, (frowny face) I was on my way home and saw a bunch of homeless people under the bridge by my house, so I thought it would be nice if I bought them some cheeseburgers.

OMG.

We're in trouble, this do gooder is lying through his teeth in order to get us to trust him, and now he's not letting me out of the car. I'm going to miss out on our late night calorie burner, and he's going to kill us while he's at it too. Shit. I knew that car hopping was a bad idea, but I didn't think that it would happen to us.

At least I get to eat 3 crispy chicken tenders before he pulls out a concealed knife and stabs us in the chest.

I have to pee, I announced... this will get us out of the car for sure. It's a little late, we are near the homeless bridge, and the toilets are dark - steel (like when you go camping or hit the beach and have to hoover above or get your cheeks chilled). I hover, plotting a master escape. Ops, Writer Chick is in the car, I have to break her out too... how is this going to work.

I returned to the car. We went to the bridge, handed over the yummy snacks, and were on our way to our destiny.

Boom.

Here we are right in front of Writer Chick's apartment. Safe and sound.

"Can I get your digits?"

"Well considering you did not kill us and you're sort of cute (in a Brandy's type sort of way), I guess so." I passed over the 9 numbers that one can reach me at and winked at him.

How is it that we live in a world where the mere idea that someone doing something good, immediately elicits the response of "this person is up to no good."

Jaded I tell you. I am completely jaded. But perhaps I'll get a good date out of it!