The Bus

So I know it's been a while since you heard from me, but don't be tricked into thinking that I've been calm, cool and collected all this time. Psh please fools. I just haven't had any time, what with my finals and then my big move to NC for the summer. Oh yeah. I'm in Charlotte, home of the Lowe's Motor Speedway (or as we locals call it, the LMS. Take that, Yankees!) Anyway, so there's been plenty of fodder for panic down here, I can tell you. Here's a brief example: I have to take the bus to work. Obviously this poses MULTIPLE problems but one in particular was givin' me fits. I bought a Weekly Bus Pass with no concept of how to use it once on the bus. I'm not a bus rider; the few times I ventured into that mode of public transportation, I was drunk and threw a buck 20 at the driver's face while he sputtered in annoyance and asked me to please be careful if I need to be sick. So anyway, day one comes, and I carefully step on the bus, the outward picture of sanity but FREAKING OUT on the inside... I look at the driver and hold out my pass. He looks down at the ticket taker machine. He looks back at me. I look down at the machine. No one speaks. The bus stays stopped. The other riders are shifting uncomfortably in their seats and I am DYING INSIDE. I finally say, I'm new here, where do I put this? He rolls his eyes at me, turns around and rolls his eyes at the other passengers, then points to one of the three different card slots on the machine. (I don't get this. They can't make one that reads all the cards? Every other city in the civilized world has managed it... they can't???) I stick it. It comes back out. I grab it and head speedily to the back of the bus... just in time for the driver to slam on the gas. My bag of shoes and lunch immediately rolls down the aisle and I sway and scramble to pick up my items, while everyones sniggers and laughs at the dumb girl who doesn't know anything. = my worst nightmare. The moral of the story: don't ride the bus in Charlotte if you are prone to panic attacks. Strike that: don't ride the bus in Charlotte EVER. (It should be noted here that after a week and a half of sticking my pass in this one slot, a new driver tells me I've been using the wrong one, and to use a different one. What? WHAT?! Again, this happened with a bus-full of onlookers. Ridic.

Items of Note

I don't like to use this as a general venting blog or long diatribe of my daily activities, but here are some items that might be of interest:

1. Bedknobs and Broomsticks is one of the greatest Disney movies of all time. If you don't agree, you didn't have a decent childhood. Sucks to be you.

2. The Mets clearly do NOT suck. But you do.

3. Mickey Update: The Mouse in my House is gone. But I am convinced he'll return... which is why every single day when I get home I check under the lid of the stove for evidence... you think I'm crazy? Psh. You know you'd be checkin' too if you had cleaned up that amount of poop from inside your stovetop. Please fool!

4. I can't think of 4, but when I do, I'll make sure to freak out about posting it for like 36 hours before I actually get on here and make a post. Word up G.

5. Happy Easter (if you're a God-fearing Christian. If not, enjoy the weather.)

Lay off the caffeine???

It's been a while. I should tell you up front that I'm writing this instead of writing my Law Review Comment, which has already been rejected once and is likely to be rejected again.

Anyway, as I've said before, I only panic about small things. It's the big things, like Law Review, that seem to not trouble me or keep me up at night. Oh sure, I usually have a brief flash of panic when I first wake up in the morning, but as soon as I hit the shower, the big issues seem to go away, and I turn to the real meat and potatoes of my mental life: not having clean sneaker socks, scheduling in laundry time, and of course, timing my departure so that I can grab lunch, make the bus but not have to wait for more than 2 minutes. Gee. I'm glad I'm so good at pondering the meaning of life.

Anyway, today I want to talk to you about Starbucks. Well, coffee generally. Every day I have this internal debate over it, and it is starting to really wear me out. (Yes, even I get tired of this stuff sometimes.) Here is my problem: I hate Starbucks coffee. It's too bitter. But it's so convenient (ah the genius...). There is one near my apartment, one near the bus stop, and one across from school. Any place I go, really. But it's gross. So then all of these other options come into play: I could go to Foster Bros. or 7-11. But Foster Bros. is one of those annoying "coffee-house-arty-folky-hippy-non-armpit-shaving" joints. Um, no thanks. And 7-11 only has those little fake cream thingies. Um, ew. Okay so that leaves school and Whatsa Bagel. School coffee is gross, plus it claims to help some little children in South America or something. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for helping the little children, but I fail to see how the Law School generates that kind of cash flow. Plus, I'm sick of having a moral lesson at every turn around school. Can't I just drink my coffee with the knowledge that I'm an over-educated, over-privileged, white American, and not feel bad about it? Crap! So back to the choices: this leaves Whatsa Bagel. By far, the best coffee in C. Park and maybe even upper NW. BUT it's across the street. So then I have this whole internal debate. Do I leave early, go there, then go to school? Do I go there, then take the later bus and be late for class? If I DO go there, do I then HAVE to buy a bagel? I mean, is it weird to go there and not buy a bagel? It IS a bagel place, I mean, geeze. The problems just keep compounding and compounding. Plus, even though it's the best coffee, it's the worst cups and the worst lids. Talk about spillage! I have to wear a tan unitard just to cross the street without noticeable stains!

Anyway, you see where I'm going with this. It's not so much indecision as the constant realization that once one decision is made, there is an endless parade of new decisions that are tangential. It's exhausting. I just want some coffee.

I guess I could just make my own... but then I need to buy filters... should I get the cones or the baskets...

M - I - C - K - E - Y ...

I have a mouse living in my stovetop. I know you will think I am making this up. But I'm not. I have spotted him twice now. He pooped in my breadbox. I threw it out. The bread survived. The box did not. Under normal circumstances, this would be cataclysmic. Tonight, I don't care. As long as that little f*cker doesn't try to climb in bed with me, I'll allow him to live. FOR NOW.

To be continued...

Bike Saga, Part I

This isn't really a panicky post, but since it is plaguing me I'm posting it. Word.

so i go to HTO last night to buy a bike lock. i don't want to spend a lot. i know they will try to sell me some top of the line lock, but i figure, a $90 purple huffy isn't likely to be stolen, and if it is, big deal. so i decide to stand by my dollar limit. WELL, of course that overpriced, hiking/camping/climbing/all-things-crunchy-granola-yuppie outpost only sells locks of $17 or more. So I end up with a $30 U-lock that weighs about 15lbs. I figure if it's the best I can do, I might as well just go ahead and get it so I can ride back to school tonight for my 10:30 pm meeting. (let's not even get started on that one..) i get it home and then at around 9:30, i decide to get ready for my trek. i unpack the lock. i bring it over to my bike. i realize at this point that the lock mount DOESN'T FIT AROUND ANY SINGLE PART OF THE BIKE. now i am steamed. but i figure, well, i can return it later, i'll just throw the lock in my bookbag for tonight, lock it up, then return it tomorrow and GET MY $30 BACK. so i put it in my bag, grab my helmet, and then wheel the bike to my door. it is then i realize the front brakes are too tight. okay, no problem. i grab a wrench and loosen the brake, piece of cake. this is when i decide that it might be a good idea to just quickly hop on the bike and make sure everything is the right height before i get it outside where there are no tools. i swing my leg over, sit on the seat, and look down. and realize that the tire rims are flush with the wood floor. there's NO AIR IN THE TIRES. and I DON'T HAVE A BIKE PUMP. at this point it's 10 o'clock, so i've missed the bus, and there is no effing way i'm paying for a cab. so i remove my helmet (since i dont' want it ruined by the fire coming out of my ears), put the bike back, and put on my pjs. i email ILR to tell them i'm not coming because i'm sick, get in bed, and go to sleep. now i'm thinking this bike idea wasn't so hot. by the time i buy a lock and a pump and all the accessories, i will have spent an amount practically equal to the cost of the bike. DEATH... death.