She Likes It

The Gauntlet

  The Poop Gauntlet
  Alki Beach

Between 7 and 7:30 a.m. there are several buses I can take to get to the office. Of course, I should take the first one - the 7:09 - so I will have enough time to walk to the office, grab a cup of joe and still make it in on time. If I am particularly slow getting up, the last bus to get me to the office at a no-need-to-call-and-say-I'm-going-to-be-late hour is the 7:30 Route 56. The only problem is getting on the 56 fills me with fear and dread every time I ride it in the mornings. It's the birds.

They line up on the powerline every morning and have a contest to see which of them can tag the most commuters. I'm always sure I'm going to be next as I race onto the bus trying to avoid the next missile.

Look at them, don't they look menacing with their poop chutes all lined up? It's awful, I say, just terrible! I don't know how I go on living through the torment.

Sure, I haven't been actually hit yet, but it'll happen (*in 8 years*) the possibility is out there.

So, I think I've decided that I can no longer go to work. I can't handle the stress of running the bird poop guantlet anymore. I'm just at wit's end about it all. I mean, sure, I'm also kind of frazzled about the fact that my boss is IMing me with the stupid f*cking audible buzz at a pre-coffee point in the morning to tell me that I've messed something up, all while I'm trying to finish yet another project that is already an hour behind schedule. But that's not nearly as bad as the poop. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's the poop.

So yeah, I'm staying home from now on. Okay?

She-it

By all that is good and holy, how on EARTH did I miss this:

Achewood Tour

SEATTLE, WA
Saturday, Oct 11
Comics Dungeon, Inc. 2PM-4PM
250 NE 45th Street

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ouch

My head hurts. Wah! (Illustration of said ache from Natalie Dee.)

Have you ever started to tell a story and about half way through it you realize that there's no point to your story? That's been happening to me a lot lately. And the question that plagues me is whether or not to continue the story. Should I continue to drone on and bore whomever I'm talking to just so they can have closure? Or should I just abruptly stop and let us both get on with our lives?

The new G2 tastes like fake sugar drink. I should have had a regular Gatorade. Wah!

Last night I met some people from Mouthfulsfood.com, a site I heard about through a very nice woman I randomly met in San Francisco last weekend. I'm way psyched to join in on their food adventures in the city. How cool is that?

Is it too early to go home? Wah!

The new building, it creaks

Last winter there were major power outages around Seattle due to Windpocolypse 2006. Beard Boy and I were lucky as we were only without power for about a day and a half.  Others got to hang out in their ice cold residences for a bit longer than that. 

Today marked the first day of Windgate 2007.  Being in a modern office building, I don't really get much exposure to the weather during the day, save for the view out my window.  However, today, today I could hear the building creak for hours on end.  It's kind of creepy.  And then, right before I I was about to leave, I turned from my computer and saw this...

I read the news today oh boy

Last night as I was slipping into a four-manhattan induced coma, I had a pretty great blog idea forming in my mind. It was witty and hilarious and exactly the sort of thing that would be recommended to Boing-Boing and cast me into blogdom fame the world over. But then, of course, this morning when I woke up, I couldn't even remember one word. It's probably a good thing because if I were famous, I know I'd totally do something stupid, like squander my fame for a really good cookie or booze.

So I drank four manhattans last night. Four. Four. That's probably about 1.5 too many. But they were tasty and they helped assuage the pain of being in last LAST place in the pub trivia World Series of Pop Culture tournament. How this is happening is really beyond me. I was sure that I would rule this tournament. If I am not storing vast amounts of useless pop-culture in my brain, what exactly AM I doing with it? Apparently nothing. This is also confirmed by the fact that my two-day workapolooza stretch that I had going here has ground to an almost complete and utter halt. Jesus Christ. I have so much to accomplish before I get on that plane on Friday night and yet, what am I doing? Not working. I have come around to the fact that four is way too many for a school night. Moderation. Moderation. Moderation. I have to keep telling myself that.

So what have I been doing? Oh, just reading The Sneeze and Izzle Pfaff and trying to giggle silently here in my office and not quite succeeding. Those two are my current favorites because they are always funny. Being always funny is hard, like math.

Speaking of math, yet another friend of mine has announced that she is engaged. Okay. What the fuck? Dieter, The Economist, Muffin, Em and now, now it's one of The Five. She-it. Dropping like flies, people, like flies. Next thing I know, every freaking person will be married. Oh sure, I want my friends to be happy, but still, why do they have to offend my sensibilities to do it? At least they have the wherewithal to avoid the maggots, but I fear it may come soon. One day I'll be happily walking along and the next thing I know a friend is going to email me with the P-bomb. Ack! I know just who it's going to be too. The Economist. You know, because he's old and his new wife's going to have to work fast in order to make sure he still can...you know, on account of his semen since he's OLD.

As a side note, do you think Nick Cage will ever make a movie as awesome as Raising Arizona?

WAaaaaaa!

I think I killed my neighbor's fish and now the universe is punishing me. 

I'm not certain I killed it.  All I know is that when I went in her apartment the fish was laying at the bottom of the tank. Perhaps I had forgotten to feed it? Can a fish die in one day? I don't know. Maybe I was supposed to go in on Saturday instead of Sunday. Regardless, the thing is dead.

And so, this morning, on my way to the bus stop I fell down. I fell down in front of the dry cleaner and the poor woman who owns the place I think almost had a heart attack. They were kind enough to give me a band-aid so I wouldn't bleed all over my pretty white skirt. Perhaps she was afraid that I might sue. She needn't worry. I'd have no leg to stand on in a falling down case (pun intended).

So anyway, my knee-scab from my Olympic Peninsula fall had barely healed and now I have a new one in the exact same spot. L A M E.

I think I need a beverage.

Speaking of. Beard Boy and I ended the 6-month long drought and went into our previously favorite pub on Sunday. I had a fine Bloody Mary and he promised the owner that we would go to Trivia night tomorrow. I guess if Muffin can invite my ex-wife to her wedding, I can find it in my heart to forgive the owners for firing my favorite bartender.