Yesterday I begrudgingly paid an exorbitant fine to the city of San Francisco for being caught on the muni train with an expired transfer. The incident in question will have been a month ago tomorrow, and it was the most awful and awesome day I've had in a while. The haircut I'd been waiting weeks to get was canceled, which I was livid about, but that fact did allow me extra time to meet George downtown and take the bus up to Amoeba and see the free Mountain Goats show . Before we went to the record store, I went and met the man who promised to sell me sweet tickets to the 826 Benefit, and as promised, four crisp bills straight from the atm bought me two fourth row tickets to see Sarah Vowell and Jonathan Richman the next week. Then I bought half a dozen pairs of amazing hooker earrings and went to the show where John Darnielle promptly totally blew my mind. On our way out, I saw John Vanderslice and told him that the pillowcase he sold me was the best thing I bought all year, and he complimented my dorky Mary Shelley broach. But then, George and I got on the bus to head home and disaster struck - the train we were on had disgusting moisture dripping from the ceiling and half the seats were soaked. The good news about that was that since it was coming from the grates at the top of the car, then the chances of it being urine were slim. George and I weren't able to sit next to each other, and were separated by a group of obnoxious boys in tight pants from State who complained loudly about how they sucked at pub trivia and thought that Mountain Goats lyrics were cheesy. So I was sitting there on a downtown bound trolley car with gross liquid dripping all around me, listening to some tools verbally desecrate my hero when a grumpy muni cop got on the train busted all five of us for having expired transfers - a predicament I'm sure I could have talked my way our of, were it not for the fact that these aforementioned terrible boys starting swearing and mouthing off to the cop and digging an awful hole that not even a nice girl with a Mary Shelley broach and her polite bearded brother can wiggle their way out of effectively. So, we got hundred dollar tickets for carrying muni transfers that were expired by 20 minutes. And I swore a lot. And bought my brother a beer on the ferry ride home. And it was both a bad and a badass day all wrapped up into one bundle of overpriced civic responsibility.
Today is ok. It was raining this morning, but is clear enough now that I can take Sophie out in her stroller later this afternoon and listen to my Tim Gunn podcasts. Today will be better when I am back at my Grandma's house working on a craft project and drinking hot chocolate and rumplemintz, because that is pretty much all I've felt like doing lately. Which is a little reclusive and strange, especially for an individual like me, but overall tends to be pretty comforting.
The news:
Getting drunk and snuggling pandas still not a good idea. Making fun of Turks is not a crime.