Rain, wind, and more rain
Yesterday was gross. It was like god was blowing his nose down on Seattle. I actually made the comment that the city needed a giant maxi pad to soak it all up. Why do I say these things? Why can't my whole two quarters of a college education kick in and make me articulate and philosophical in a valuable way for once? I mean, this school is costing me money, when do I get to see results? Metabolife is cheaper and you see results in only a few weeks! Not that I'd trade knowledge for immitation speed . . .
I took the bus, good ol' number seventy (I am a walking metro reference book). I've found that it's a really good tactic to bring something to occupy yourself when riding the bus, that way people don't put you on the spot. I mean, don't get me wrong. You all know I enjoy the character encounter as much as the next girl, but generally it's a bad idea when you're alone. So since I can't knit very well/at all, and you can't whittle on the bus because that would involve a knife and Metro doesn't like weapons--I brought a book. Now, you have to realize that you can't just pick up an Archie comic book and think that you're secured peace for yourself. No, no, any fool can sidle up to you and strike up a conversation about just average reading material. So you need to be strategic. For instance, one of the best books to read on the bus is the pubescent classic, "Growing up, Feeling Good." Or you could tackle the always imposing Berenstein Bears. That would really keep people away.
At any rate, I'm sitting, riding, reading "Love in the Time of Cholera," when this huge group of teens/high schoolers from either Bainbridge or Vashon (they spoke about catching the ferry) assaulted the bus. All the kids crowd into the back and the mommies that were chaperoning rode in the front. I guess the teens were being typical, a.k.a. potty mouths, because this rather large Native American guy who had been singing along the music in his headphones walks back there and starts screaming at these kids. He basically delivered an informal sermon about how they should be ashamed of themselves and have no morals or sence of decency. It was wonderful to watch and be unaffiliated with the raunchy teens for once.
So I spent the afternoon wandering around downtown Seattle. Well, actually, I went to Marco's to see Vicki about these two catepillars that I had growing on my face . . . when I left I had new eyebrows. She's amazing like that.
So I'm wandering in the disgusting monsoon with water up to my knees and mascara rings around my eyes when I realize that someone is following me. At first I thought I was just being paranoid . . . but they crossed the street with me and turned the corner . . . so I whipped around and demanded, "what?!" They were these two guys wearing enormous basketball jerseys and big puffy jackets. All they wanted was to "talk." I told them I was in a hurry and one of them (I've forgotten their names) asked if he could call me. Look guys, I'm getting so much better, I said no.
So then I figure it's time to hop back on the Character Caravan/Metro bus and I rode home . . . There were a couple hours of hell, you know, maybe five or six, and then I ended up watching "Brotherhood of the Wolves," with the guys down the hall. Only that movie is a piece of shit. I had taken a painkiller for my stomach and I was really impatient. Takuya told me that it was an action movie, but most of it was just these guys with stylized mullets and fancy clothes sitting around and talking. There was a girl with epilepsy, but her "fit" was only like a second long. I have to say that by far the best part was the opening scene where this blonde chick gets tossed around and slammed up against a giant boulder (also known as an eratic, thank you Mr. Adams PNW '99). I thought it was funny, but I was also drugged. So that's about it. I'm off to run, then work.
I took the bus, good ol' number seventy (I am a walking metro reference book). I've found that it's a really good tactic to bring something to occupy yourself when riding the bus, that way people don't put you on the spot. I mean, don't get me wrong. You all know I enjoy the character encounter as much as the next girl, but generally it's a bad idea when you're alone. So since I can't knit very well/at all, and you can't whittle on the bus because that would involve a knife and Metro doesn't like weapons--I brought a book. Now, you have to realize that you can't just pick up an Archie comic book and think that you're secured peace for yourself. No, no, any fool can sidle up to you and strike up a conversation about just average reading material. So you need to be strategic. For instance, one of the best books to read on the bus is the pubescent classic, "Growing up, Feeling Good." Or you could tackle the always imposing Berenstein Bears. That would really keep people away.
At any rate, I'm sitting, riding, reading "Love in the Time of Cholera," when this huge group of teens/high schoolers from either Bainbridge or Vashon (they spoke about catching the ferry) assaulted the bus. All the kids crowd into the back and the mommies that were chaperoning rode in the front. I guess the teens were being typical, a.k.a. potty mouths, because this rather large Native American guy who had been singing along the music in his headphones walks back there and starts screaming at these kids. He basically delivered an informal sermon about how they should be ashamed of themselves and have no morals or sence of decency. It was wonderful to watch and be unaffiliated with the raunchy teens for once.
So I spent the afternoon wandering around downtown Seattle. Well, actually, I went to Marco's to see Vicki about these two catepillars that I had growing on my face . . . when I left I had new eyebrows. She's amazing like that.
So I'm wandering in the disgusting monsoon with water up to my knees and mascara rings around my eyes when I realize that someone is following me. At first I thought I was just being paranoid . . . but they crossed the street with me and turned the corner . . . so I whipped around and demanded, "what?!" They were these two guys wearing enormous basketball jerseys and big puffy jackets. All they wanted was to "talk." I told them I was in a hurry and one of them (I've forgotten their names) asked if he could call me. Look guys, I'm getting so much better, I said no.
So then I figure it's time to hop back on the Character Caravan/Metro bus and I rode home . . . There were a couple hours of hell, you know, maybe five or six, and then I ended up watching "Brotherhood of the Wolves," with the guys down the hall. Only that movie is a piece of shit. I had taken a painkiller for my stomach and I was really impatient. Takuya told me that it was an action movie, but most of it was just these guys with stylized mullets and fancy clothes sitting around and talking. There was a girl with epilepsy, but her "fit" was only like a second long. I have to say that by far the best part was the opening scene where this blonde chick gets tossed around and slammed up against a giant boulder (also known as an eratic, thank you Mr. Adams PNW '99). I thought it was funny, but I was also drugged. So that's about it. I'm off to run, then work.