Now there is only this:
AND this:
How these don't have infinity views is beyond me. But I don't question it. It is not for me to know.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
I Was Their Sober Queen
OOPS I NEVER POSTED THIS.
HERE IT IS, LATE AND IRRELEVANT.
TRY AND SHIMMY SOME MEANING OUT OF IT.
I DARE YOU:
Keep this date in mind: 5/12/12 (the night before Mother's Day, a SATURDAY, if you must know)
I don't go out as much as I used to. I'm happy staying in and tinkering with my newest wall gaze.
But being back in DC, tonight I happened to catch a rare ride on the weekend post-midnight, pre-Mother's Day subway. There was track work. And apparently an important Caps game earlier. Perfect. You couldn't set up the ingredients better for something to happen.
When I descended into the subway platform for the preliminary part of my two-leg journey, there was a couple making out on one of the benches but the woman was sitting on the man's lap, and her friend was lying down prostrate next to them (let's call 'em Three's Company). And occasionally, the girl in the couple would smack her friend and go "SHADDDUP" even though her friend wasn't saying anything. First level of drunk hell.
Then, before I could make any sound judgments, the train came, we all got on like the genteel, misunderstood specimens we were, and it duly plopped us at our next transfer point.
It seemed unlikely there would be further incident.
Except at our next platform, the train wasn't due for another 20 minutes. And there were no benches. And Three's Company is stuck there, like jammed clockwork! So obviously, the couple lies down on the ground spooning. And the friend, not to be outdone, lies down nearby and puts on sunglasses. Second level of drunk hell.
At this point, I sensed, this is probably "not allowed." And measures might be "taken". And sure enough, ten minutes later, a bunch of subway employees appeared for a very brief and uneventful sting operation, in which they stood over Three's Company and stared at them, trying to guilt them into some kind of recognition of their crimes. As this resulted in no response, one of the employees finally said "Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse. Me. You have to get up."
At this point, Three's Company slowly peeled themselves off the ground, seemingly offended at the rules in this train bar, if you could even call it a bar, what with the lousy service! The couple propped themselves up against each other, and the friend, sunglasses still at full mast, slumped herself into a sit against the station name pole, giving her a real Weekend at Bernie's feel. Third level of drunk hell.
But alas, it didn't stop there. Because at that point, a crowd of crewcut rabble rousers (let's call 'em The Jerks) descended into the station, talking in that shouty, condescending volume associated with drunks who are still at the height of their Five Hour Energy bell curve. They took one short look at Three's Company and turned into a razzing storm. Nobody gets more self-righteous then the sauced making fun of the more sauced. Fourth level of drunk hell.
The Jerks were joking around with the subway employees, asking if anybody had ever pooped their pants before, waving their hands in sunglasses' lady's face who had passed out by that point, still taking the time to flirt with some wide-eyed beautiful Swedish tourists who were, against all odds, also sitting on the ground, on a Swedish flag no less, and all in all, creating a well-choreographed PSA for giving up.
Then the train came.
And none of these people got in the same car as me. It was a Christmas miracle!
Or rather, a fake out by fate.
Because soon I got another colorful cast of characters. A girl who got on the train shouting about how her hair hurt and her boyfriend and his friends who decided to sing to pass the time. Fifth level of drunk hell.
Not to be outdone, despite being 3 stops away from my final destination, at the next stop, 2 guys and a girl get on (let's call them Three's Company 2: the Sequel), all toasted. The girl immediately addresses the entire car: "Does anyone want to play a game?" Sixth level of drunk hell.
I would have never seen it coming, but Hair Hurts girl is up for it. Oh, except the entire game is just "not holding anything on the car." That was the first attempt at explaining the rules.
The second attempt was "You have to stand up and not hold anything in the car for balance while the train is moving." Better. Way more clear. Hair Hurts girl is not up for it. Literally. "Nope, I will fall right down." LOVE self-awareness in drunks. Wish you saw more of it.
HERE IT IS, LATE AND IRRELEVANT.
TRY AND SHIMMY SOME MEANING OUT OF IT.
I DARE YOU:
Keep this date in mind: 5/12/12 (the night before Mother's Day, a SATURDAY, if you must know)
I don't go out as much as I used to. I'm happy staying in and tinkering with my newest wall gaze.
But being back in DC, tonight I happened to catch a rare ride on the weekend post-midnight, pre-Mother's Day subway. There was track work. And apparently an important Caps game earlier. Perfect. You couldn't set up the ingredients better for something to happen.
All track work and no play makes for a typical subway.
Courtesy of Flickr and MTAPhotos
When I descended into the subway platform for the preliminary part of my two-leg journey, there was a couple making out on one of the benches but the woman was sitting on the man's lap, and her friend was lying down prostrate next to them (let's call 'em Three's Company). And occasionally, the girl in the couple would smack her friend and go "SHADDDUP" even though her friend wasn't saying anything. First level of drunk hell.
Then, before I could make any sound judgments, the train came, we all got on like the genteel, misunderstood specimens we were, and it duly plopped us at our next transfer point.
It seemed unlikely there would be further incident.
Except at our next platform, the train wasn't due for another 20 minutes. And there were no benches. And Three's Company is stuck there, like jammed clockwork! So obviously, the couple lies down on the ground spooning. And the friend, not to be outdone, lies down nearby and puts on sunglasses. Second level of drunk hell.
An accessory to public intoxication!
Courtesy of Flickr and andresrueda
At this point, I sensed, this is probably "not allowed." And measures might be "taken". And sure enough, ten minutes later, a bunch of subway employees appeared for a very brief and uneventful sting operation, in which they stood over Three's Company and stared at them, trying to guilt them into some kind of recognition of their crimes. As this resulted in no response, one of the employees finally said "Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse. Me. You have to get up."
At this point, Three's Company slowly peeled themselves off the ground, seemingly offended at the rules in this train bar, if you could even call it a bar, what with the lousy service! The couple propped themselves up against each other, and the friend, sunglasses still at full mast, slumped herself into a sit against the station name pole, giving her a real Weekend at Bernie's feel. Third level of drunk hell.
But alas, it didn't stop there. Because at that point, a crowd of crewcut rabble rousers (let's call 'em The Jerks) descended into the station, talking in that shouty, condescending volume associated with drunks who are still at the height of their Five Hour Energy bell curve. They took one short look at Three's Company and turned into a razzing storm. Nobody gets more self-righteous then the sauced making fun of the more sauced. Fourth level of drunk hell.
The Jerks were joking around with the subway employees, asking if anybody had ever pooped their pants before, waving their hands in sunglasses' lady's face who had passed out by that point, still taking the time to flirt with some wide-eyed beautiful Swedish tourists who were, against all odds, also sitting on the ground, on a Swedish flag no less, and all in all, creating a well-choreographed PSA for giving up.
Then the train came.
And none of these people got in the same car as me. It was a Christmas miracle!
Or rather, a fake out by fate.
Because soon I got another colorful cast of characters. A girl who got on the train shouting about how her hair hurt and her boyfriend and his friends who decided to sing to pass the time. Fifth level of drunk hell.
Not to be outdone, despite being 3 stops away from my final destination, at the next stop, 2 guys and a girl get on (let's call them Three's Company 2: the Sequel), all toasted. The girl immediately addresses the entire car: "Does anyone want to play a game?" Sixth level of drunk hell.
I would have never seen it coming, but Hair Hurts girl is up for it. Oh, except the entire game is just "not holding anything on the car." That was the first attempt at explaining the rules.
The second attempt was "You have to stand up and not hold anything in the car for balance while the train is moving." Better. Way more clear. Hair Hurts girl is not up for it. Literally. "Nope, I will fall right down." LOVE self-awareness in drunks. Wish you saw more of it.
Shots, shots, shots, and misses!
Courtesy of Flickr and calispera
Nobody wants to play the game, of course. So Three's Company 2 bravely plays alone, which involves a balancing act that is a cross between a beginning capoeira workshop and failed auditions for Cirque du Soleil. To nobody's credit, there were no major tumbles. And to one of the guys' debit, he did a pull up for no reason at one point. Seventh level of drunk hell. Actually, eighth with the pull up.
Meanwhile, Hair Hurts Girl and the girl in Three's Company 2 strike up a pointless icebreaker conversation with each other, as if they would ever remember any of it, let alone the entire night again.
At this point, I was in prime eavesdrooping mode with the simple but effective alibi of a half-started crossword Sudoku in my lap. (Note: Eavesdrooping is when you're eavesdropping and nodding off at the same time. Happens a lot on public transit.) And, shrewd detective that I am, I learned that Three's Company 2 needed to switch trains at the stop where I was getting off in order to get to the right destination. Suddenly, a call to action.
So as I was getting off the train, I helpfully tapped the least drunk of them on the shoulder and said "You need to switch to the Orange Line here to get to where you're going." This guy went into Freaky Chicken Mode, and without even thinking, he immediately pushed his drunker pal out the door onto the subway platform.
Except then the doors closed. And the ultimate nightmare of all drunk people everywhere happened. Drunkest guy got separated from his friends. And then he started howling. Not yelling, not screaming, but howling. From the depths of his wolf spirit guide, out it came. Team Jacob FTL. And his friends slapped the door yelling "We'll come back. Just stay here" as the train pulled away. Ninth level of drunk hell.
And I realized, I, the designated soberface of the night, caused the biggest mess of all. And that's where I went wrong. You don't bring your logic and reason into the world of substances. You let things run their weird, messy, hit-and-miss course.
And that's why I don't go out much anymore.
On that note, GOODNIGHT. Please join me next time when I explore FEELINGS.
*grand gesture of closing a curtain*
Meanwhile, Hair Hurts Girl and the girl in Three's Company 2 strike up a pointless icebreaker conversation with each other, as if they would ever remember any of it, let alone the entire night again.
At this point, I was in prime eavesdrooping mode with the simple but effective alibi of a half-started crossword Sudoku in my lap. (Note: Eavesdrooping is when you're eavesdropping and nodding off at the same time. Happens a lot on public transit.) And, shrewd detective that I am, I learned that Three's Company 2 needed to switch trains at the stop where I was getting off in order to get to the right destination. Suddenly, a call to action.
So as I was getting off the train, I helpfully tapped the least drunk of them on the shoulder and said "You need to switch to the Orange Line here to get to where you're going." This guy went into Freaky Chicken Mode, and without even thinking, he immediately pushed his drunker pal out the door onto the subway platform.
Except then the doors closed. And the ultimate nightmare of all drunk people everywhere happened. Drunkest guy got separated from his friends. And then he started howling. Not yelling, not screaming, but howling. From the depths of his wolf spirit guide, out it came. Team Jacob FTL. And his friends slapped the door yelling "We'll come back. Just stay here" as the train pulled away. Ninth level of drunk hell.
And I realized, I, the designated soberface of the night, caused the biggest mess of all. And that's where I went wrong. You don't bring your logic and reason into the world of substances. You let things run their weird, messy, hit-and-miss course.
And that's why I don't go out much anymore.
On that note, GOODNIGHT. Please join me next time when I explore FEELINGS.
*grand gesture of closing a curtain*
Friday, May 11, 2012
Monday, April 02, 2012
I AM WINNER
Great news for me, who bravely took my chances on the overseas Mega Millions lotto. Click to zoom zoom zoom.
First thing I'm going to buy is Rebeca Sally another C for her name, and then, more "names" and "addresss" for myself!
First thing I'm going to buy is Rebeca Sally another C for her name, and then, more "names" and "addresss" for myself!
Monday, March 19, 2012
The Wifi Password Is Crowdsourcing
I decided to sit at the communal table in this coffee shop because I wanted to be part of the solution. But instead this is the place where nobody has private convos, or is seemingly here to accomplish anything except talk inappropriately loudly about their Kickstarter project. Everybody looks around occasionally to make sure you are aware of them, and constantly shifts on these group benches so that the sequel to the Industrial Revolution is but a lucid fever dream.
Someone's phone alarm just went off to remind her to be more annoying.
Near me, a woman eats veggie chili like it matters. I have no issue with her. She looks like she doesn't believe in Kindles.
Actually, a woman at the other end is yell-whispering to her colleague nee frenemy. This is what she just said: "I've seen how hard you work for other people. I've seen how hard you work for yourself. You're just a little freakyass nerd."
Then she excused herself citing "I have to get a Twizzler."
And the bench weight shifts and my coffee shudders and the appropriated world music CD plays on...
A poster in the corner melodramatically reads "This too shall pass" as if to say "I'm just a dorm room conversation starter. What do I know?!?"
There is also a cat walking around like he is about to fire all of us for existing. I couldn't agree more.
Someone's phone alarm just went off to remind her to be more annoying.
Near me, a woman eats veggie chili like it matters. I have no issue with her. She looks like she doesn't believe in Kindles.
Actually, a woman at the other end is yell-whispering to her colleague nee frenemy. This is what she just said: "I've seen how hard you work for other people. I've seen how hard you work for yourself. You're just a little freakyass nerd."
Then she excused herself citing "I have to get a Twizzler."
And the bench weight shifts and my coffee shudders and the appropriated world music CD plays on...
A poster in the corner melodramatically reads "This too shall pass" as if to say "I'm just a dorm room conversation starter. What do I know?!?"
There is also a cat walking around like he is about to fire all of us for existing. I couldn't agree more.
Sunday, March 04, 2012
Gettin' Sketchy With It
Wanted to share two funtastic sketches I got to be a part of that just made their World Wide Webuts, written by two lovely & hilarious ladyfaces.
1. Miss Wallflower USA, written by Tia Ayers
2. A Little Girl Talk, written by Honora Talbott
Carry on, figurative bellhops!
1. Miss Wallflower USA, written by Tia Ayers
2. A Little Girl Talk, written by Honora Talbott
Carry on, figurative bellhops!
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