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One of the stupid stories I tell myself is that just because I haven’t published anything on this dumb blog in almost a year, it means that I’ll have to have some ‘grand re-entry’, like just write the best conglomeration of words I could ever imagine. Anyway, I just decided that my evening thus far, has been worth recording.

I was walking home from work, with my face planted in my fancy new space phone, and I was just browsing away, emails, facebook, texts, might of even checked my top score on the puzzle game I finally ‘wrapped’ (read: beat), and probably making some really dangerous street crossings – not really sure, wasn’t paying attention. Then, for some reason, my ears perked up when I overheard two construction workers I see regularly, say, “yeah, remember Janet Jackson’s wardrobe malfunction…” and I coincidentally, simultaneously realized that my blouse was TOTALLY OPEN. Yep. My right boob was just out there, all heeeeey, what’s up, how d’ya like my bra? And I had definitely walked in that fashion, for the last 10 minutes, easily.

I made it home, changed out of that failure of a top, got my stuff together to head to class. On the way, I’m still back into my phone, but I definitely pick up sketchy dudes vibe and he stands there wiggling the handlebar of a bike, presumably not his, fiddling with the bell on it. Yeah right, buddy, I think to myself, as if you’re just standing here jangling “your” bike bell. So I stopped and just stared at him. Stood beside him and stared at him. Wouldn’t ya know it, he walked away from the bike? Stared right into his thieving little eyes, and said silently, I see you. Shame is a wonderful tool sometimes, so sad to say.

Well, the TTC certainly earned its moniker, “Take The Car” or “Takes Time Coming” tonight as I waited god knows how long really for a friggin’ train. Long story short, I cut my losses on the 3 dollar fare, and the class I was supposed to attend, and thought, screw it, I’m going home. Just in time to see old Thievey MacGee himself, riding in the opposite direction on a real nice bike, no hands styles, waving his arms around in some magical tai chi looking manner – havin’ a time. A cyclist stopped at the light (a fellow ginger, fyi) saw me laughing to myself, and wanted in on it. She just chuckled and shook her head and carried on.

Ah, whatever. And it’s only 7:30.

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September 2011
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