The Time I Met Tom Cruise.

Last night I was in the office until about eight. Which is a time of day I have not seen at work since school let out an eternity ago. But you know, the students are coming back and damned if Im not going to be prepared to jam some feminist rhetoric down their ungrateful throats.

Anyway, in an effort to make the long day up to myself, I decided to putter down to my local grocery to pick up some drumsticks. ( In case you people haven't been paying attention, I like drumsticks better than shoes and shirtless firefighters combined.) So. I put on my very favorite new fall sweater which has quickly bumped Simon off my list of "things I would save in a fire", and started down the street.

I got about three blocks from my house before I saw him. Scruffy looking homeless guy in his late thirties maybe? He was sitting on the outer garden wall of a bank strumming what I can only hazard to guess was an imaginary harp. Now growing up in San Francisco, there is not a lot about the homeless that surprises me. I have seen everything to the absolutely heartbreaking, to the downright hilarious (Joke Man on Haight Street, you sir, are a staple of my psychological development). But this chimeric maestro had a sign that said "Im the REAL Tom Cruise. And Im HUNGRY!!". True story. I didnt even add any exclamation points, although Im hazy as to whether there were in fact two or three, I decided to play it safe in the telling.

Anyway, on my way home I handed him two of my four drumsticks. I really wanted to stop and ask him how he felt about the media attention on Katy Holmes, and whether or not it was true that he wears lifts in his movies, and also what is up with scientology, do they really paint your hands purple? But. The E TrueHollywood story of Hugh Hefner was on at 9, and damned if I don't love the old geezer enough to jog all the way up my hill in order to catch it.