Wednesday, June 07, 2006

7 June 2006

As I walked down the street after leaving work today, a bike messenger glared at me. I was about to fire one back, but then I realized I hated me too. I was wearing a suit. I hate fucking chicks in suits in downtown Seattle. When I saw one half a block later, I almost hit her with my huge, yuppie purse.

The bus. Since the price of gas has gone up to $83/gallon (Way to go with the president, U.S. Awesome. Nice. One.), there are a lot more people on the bus. Minus: Core body temperature up ten percent. Plus: Increased visual fodder.
To wit:

1. I sat down. Within seconds, a very large woman with a dour face sat beside me. I don’t care how nice you are, no one wants the biggest person on the plane or the bus to sit beside them on the tiny plane seat or the tiny bus seat. This had happened in the morning too. Then I noticed her distinctive mole pattern. It was the same woman! How many buses are there in Seattle, I ask you? She did not hesitate to remove her sweater in a way that covered half my face with its sweaty bits.


2. A preposterously hot girl was sitting across from me. It pissed me off. She was reading Henry VIII. Is that necessary? Couldn’t she have been reading W magazine? Yes, I do say this because she was much hotter than I am.

p.s. She didn’t turn a page in 30 minutes.

3. I wish people would stop telling redheads they look good in earth tones.

4. The best part of riding the bus is when it takes a swift turn and everyone does 180s. Fortunately, this time the person who landed on me was pillowy.

On my walk home from the bus, I saw an old dude with pale blue pants pulled up high. Do young men also want to wear their pants like that but are afraid? Or does something happen to their bodies later?

I stopped at the liquor store. Forgot my vodka and had to be called back to the counter. Way to attract the kind of attention I was trying to avoid. Since I stop there, like, every three days. Jackass.