Sleepytime

There's a man sleeping next to me. While that phrase alone should stimulate some excitement I can assure you that it does not today. I'm on the bus.

Seated next to me is a saggy, shapeless, mouse of a man I'll call Howard. Howard apparently doesn't get enough sleep at home. He's slouched over, head tipped back, with a badly mustached mouth agape. He's using his stained trench coat as some sort of makeshift blanket. His shiny polyester dress shirt is unbuttoned just enough to tease at the horrors beneath it. To make matters worse, he's wearing Florsheims, slipshod and worn down to their plastic soles (are his sweat socks really beige?). He is propped up by a blue nylon gym bag which was likely a Paco Rabanne gift with purchase.

What Howard doesn't realize is that his misshapen backside is pressed against the strip you press to request the bus to stop. Every time the bus tips in one direction or the other, his back-fat is asking to get off. The driver has already asked him once to slouch in some other way as not to incessantly ring the bell. Howards not embarassed, though he has myriad reasons to be.

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Carpets & Madness

Today I'm not going to reflect on my surroundings but what are fond memories I have on the inside. Anyway, it's Monday morning and nobody deserves to be read to filth about their bags and shoes today.

My bestest girlfriend lives in Berlin. She bought a place in Seattle recently, but has found her home in Germany. I think its the German sausages she likes, but I digress.

Her and I used to have so much fun together in years past. I suppose you could say we were "drinking buddies" as that is what our activities typically involved! We'd go out and get liquored up and take over a dance floor in some run-down gay bar in Reseda. It was the time of my life! Things seemed so simple back then...

Now life is complicated. Relationships, jobs, the realities of the mid-30's all conspire to keep us arms-length from madness. Madness we adored!

These days she's finding her own scandal in Berlin. I'm jealous. Its not that I want to misbehave (well maybe just a little), but I want to be there with her, soaking up the european colour and culture - even if it is in the back of a bar and I'm 50 lbs fatter now!

I miss the time with her - being crazy and going on. About nonsense. You tell me the relationship between cashews and luggage. Only we know.

Even after she moved to Seattle we didn't have the opportunity to play. We both have relationships which tend to get in the way of the madness, though we do manage to have some fun listening to music and getting stoned.

One of these days I am going to meet her in Berlin and we're going to go out and create a stir. For some reason I feel as though I'm going to become a famous Berlin drag queen called Honey Lovetrap or Sausage Patty (pronounced shar-day) and will star in an all-tranny burlesque on the neon side of town. She'll be my biggest fan.

I love you girl! I always will...!

There are no actual carpets in this story.


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No-one likes your ring tone.

The ring tone has become the "this is who I (think I) am" accessory. Sure you may have your Sexy-Back or are white-as-rice and want everyone to believe your hip-hop street cred, but wow... You're on a commuter bus to Bellevue. Do you really believe that blaring a tinny, sad rendition of the latest Jay-Z joint is going to somehow negate the fact that you're wearing pleat-front Dockers and are carrying your lunch in a teal nylon lunch-tote?

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Nothing to See Here...

There is literally nobody interesting to talk about on my bus today.

Sure there's Mr. Fong, Bradley Hamilton, and fat-dork-guy (no I am not referring to myself, Mare)... But they're not even noteworthy today.

The only person possibly worth mentioning is a middle-aged woman I'll call Bev. Bev has no-nonsense close-cropped hair and tightly pursed lips. She's wearing a mid-length faux short-cropped shearling jacket with some kind of cowboy boot featuring decorative stitching on the top of the arch. Her bag is saying "Wilson Leather buy-one-get-one" to me. I can only imagine what the item of equal or lesser value might be.

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Feet

My bus smells like feet. Could they be my own? No sure way to tell...

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**UPDATE**
Yup, they were mine! :)

Todays Hunting Man

Today I am graced by the presence of todays hunting man. On his way to Bellevue, perhaps to shoot himself some dinner at Ruth's Chris. Or maybe he's a poacher headed to Bellevue Square to wrestle up some stay-at-home mom pushing a stroller.

My first clue was the backpack. Some bizarre photo-printed leaves-and-sticks kind of camouflaged mess - and a jacket to match. I'm sure somewhere there's a badge or patch or something that espouses his allegiance to the NRA. Duh.

Need I even bother mentioning the mullet? Its cliche upon cliche. It's like a white trash wedding cake, with layer upon layer of trailer court, wife beater, cousin-fucker, deer hunter, beer burper pastry covered in a thick creamy frosting of failed G.E.D's and regret.

But you know? He is kinda hot...

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The first of the 2007 posts

I'm happy to make this first 2007 post to my badly neglected blog. The main reason I haven't kept up with it is because I've been mad busy. Thankfully now I gave a Blackberry (again) and will be able to start a new phase of bus reports and reporting of other musings.

In fact, I'm on the bus now. Lots has changed. No longer the downtown commuter, these days you can find me on the 532 between Lynnwood and Bellevue.

Working in Bellevue has introduced me to an all new monster of a commute: I-405. Traffic on this route is ridiculous as the lane topography is antiquated and inefficient. But enough on that... BORING!

so stay tuned for more fun & frolic as I make my way to and from the glittering gem of the Puget Sound a.k.a. Bellevue. And what a cast of characters you'll meet along the way!

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