I love a fun crackhead. I mean where else would you see a man about 9 pm at night running down a parking lot with a large potted plant from Menards (after they closed) in Hoffman Estates. I am pretty sure by the cracked out look and meandering running he wasn't your "clean" plant stealer. We had to much fun trying to figure out if the dude was gonna try and smoke it or sell it to yuppies from drug money. Either way it gave us a laugh at addiction in progress, kinda like the whole Charlie Sheen thing, only I think some people are just wanting him to die.
I think alot of people who have had a complicated raising up have a few of there own favorite crackhead moments. My college roommate, from the south side of Chicago and transplanted to central Illinois, woke me up in the pre-dawn hours to share the news that he saw his first crackwhore on Market Street since he moved to school. It was a special moment that you toast with a box of Pop-Tarts (because it has the word tart and it was in the house) I am not trying to piss-off the crackhead community, but lets be real, they are a great source of humor when they aren't robbing you for crack money.
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