I have what some may call a sick affection for the homeless. I don't know whether it's their dirty skin, smelly garb, or the possibility that they're schizophrenic and bipolar but those boys (and girls) just make me smile. Now that it's warming up in Philly my homeless people are no more. As we speak they are migrating onto bigger and better places -- Rittenhouse Square, Fairmount Park, or perhaps even Bermuda. A couple weeks ago at McDonalds I had a lovely conversation with a homeless gentlemen about his house in Bermuda. He said he had a lovely home and recommended I come visit him. I gave him my spare change but was tempted to ask "if you have such a wonderful house in Bermuda what are you doing begging for 'bus change' at 1:00 a.m.?" Oh delusions of grandeur, how I love thee! Whether it be New Jersey or Bermuda, many of the homeless are leaving us for the summer. No more lying to them outside Wawa. Although we use the same cheap lie, "sorry, no cash," they take it like gentlemen. They respect our answer even though they watched us withdraw crisp twenties from the ATM. This summer there will be no more cute little homeless people popping up out of the nasty steam grates on our way home from the library. Those little suckers have probably taken ten years off my life with their silly games of "terrify the paranoid college girl." I don't really know where my affection for the homeless came from. Although I'm originally from New York, I was a little girl there and the homeless people in New York are generally more polite, more talented, and scarcer. They open doors and fight for the honor of performing music in the subways (or is that Paris?). And unlike Philadelphian homeless people, they don't stalk you when you refuse to give them money (Although I enjoy a good ol' stalking -- it's refreshing to be on the other side every once in a while). Maybe my obsession with the homeless comes from watching early childhood movies. I just loved Curly Sue. She was a spunky and homeless yet cute as a button. Or maybe it was that charming Pigeon woman in Mary Poppins. She seemed happy enough letting pigeons shit on her all day; why can't we all be happy with that? Or the hot fashion campaign of Jacobin Mugatu in Zoolander. The tattered clothes, the shopping carts, the hilarity - oh my! And then there is the knock-off pigeon woman from Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. She was living at Carnegie Hall because she loved classical music. Now that is glamorous, classy, and affordable. No wonder I love these crazy (literally and figuratively), smelly, dirty, conning men and women. Bon voyage derelicts -- I look forward to our reunion in September!

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