An ode to transportation, in five parts- AKA you just can’t win

One: Ascension

Waiting for the bus
Makes me want to kill myself.
Fucking MUNI sucks.

Two: Experience

Oh dirty thirty-
Is that swine flu over there?
This ride might kill me.

Three: Descent

Thank God that’s over.
Wait- swine flu incubation?
Guess we’ll wait and see…

Four: Alternative One

Searching for parking
Almost make me miss MUNI.
Everything just blows.

Five: Alternative Two

Now I’m out on foot
Toward Embarcadero.
Fucking hills fuck fuck!!!!!

IM of the Week

me: omg
just sent you an e
running to the bathroom but bbiaf!
Sent at 10:22 AM on Thursday

me: hey
omg
wrong window
hahahaha
hahahahhahaha
i am so awesome
i did not send you an email
but hi anyway
Sent at 10:26 AM on Thursday

asfilner: wow
my computer broadcast all this to 20 people
awesome
Sent at 10:34 AM on Thursday

The best part is that all 20 ppl now know exactly how long it takes me to pee. Awesome.

CWN VI

On joy, pure

Shredder, you so fine.

I want to shred all the time.

Shred, shred, shred, shred, shred!!!

Siamese Friends

-noun.

1.  Two or more platonic persons the separate existence of which remains purely theoretical and wholly unsubstantiated.

2. Two or more platonic persons who appear corporeally bound by virtue of their constant proximity to each other, particularly in social settings.

3.  A pair of platonic persons the public appearance of solely one of which inspires an immediate double-take and surreptitious hunt for the other.

*thx to E and M for the inspiration

Mistleho

-noun.

1. One who creates a personal circulation pattern at a party designed to maximize mistletoe exposure time.

2. One who takes advantage of the mistletoe to engage in a full-blown public makeout session.

3. Absolutely no one known to the authors of this blog.

*thx to J for the inspiration and to N for everything

On mistletoe, the peril of

Middle of the room-

Thought I was out of the zone!

I need a stiff drink.

CWN V

For those who’ve wondered what this looks like, here’s a “before” shot:

And of course, the selections of the night:

Genius.  Pure genius.

An open letter

Dear Passenger 12B on SA Flt 2 from Singapore to San Francisco:

It’s not that I didn’t appreciate being woken up by your hand massaging my breast.  It was a long flight, and I’m worried about DVT, so it was good that I woke and was able to walk up and down the cabin to get the blood flowing. In fact, it’s probably because of you that I didn’t get a blood clot in my femoral artery and wind up with a stroke.  Plus, I kept having nightmares about being back in the hospital room with my dying grandmother- you know, the one I had just left in India a scant 7 hours before?  So really, all things considered, I’m grateful.

However, there were other ways, Passenger 12B on SA flt 2 from Singapore to SF!  Couldn’t you have just nudged me with your elbow?  Or, better yet, couldn’t you have had your adorable wife, asleep in the window seat next to you, wake me and offer me her US weekly?  After two weeks in India, I was dying for a celeb gossip update.

But I guess I can appreciate how you took the most direct path.  Raising the armrest must have been easy, given that I was leaning as far from you into the aisle as humanly possible.  And I can only imagine from there it was short work to take your hand and place it squarely onto my breast. I bet you didn’t realize I’d wake so quickly.  What can I say– my “skeezy bastard” radar must have been going off from the moment you walked onto the plane.

Like I said, bygones.  I do feel for your wife, but I imagine she’s put up with a lot worse.  Oh, and I realize I may have broken your hand when I slammed the armrest down on it.  Oopsie!  That yelp you gave was pretty satisfying.

Anyway, thanks for waking me up.  I got to watch a whole ‘nother movie while waiting for landing!  And it had been a while since I had brimmed to the surface with righteous indignation, so that was sort of nice.

Good luck in your life.  If your wife takes you to the cleaners during your divorce, I’m sure you’d make a good pimp.  I hear there’s plenty of money in that these days!

xo

Passenger 12C

On delusion, self

I love that you blog!

It’s like watching a train wreck.

A CRAZY train wreck!