smal adventur

Yesterday I was on my way to an interview, riding the bus and minding my own business (listening to NoSleep and reading The Fifth Elephant again) when the bus stops and two people get on. A waft of alcohol permeates through the bus, but that doesn’t really mean much (if you’re not stumbling drunk, the drivers can’t really tell you you can’t ride or, if they do, they won’t let you off the bus until security comes to pick you up)

The guy walks to the back of the bus and sits down, the woman sits at the first seat on the bust (diagonally from the driver) and closes her eyes. He tells her she needs to pay and she slowly goes through her things, handing him peices of paper and, I’m assuming, asking if it’s what he needs. I’m trying to ignore it because, well, frankly it doesn’t involve me and I’m already using my two defenses against people (podcast and book).

A few stops later, I hear her loudly muttering something, which turns into her loudly talking AT the driver about how “All Italians are Crooked” and “Italians hate anyone who isn’t them.” (which devolved into something akin to “If you aren’t Italian, you aren’t shit to them.” I turned my podcast up a little louder (but I can only go so loud because a) if anyone can hear it, especially the driver, he can tell me to turn it down because it’s distracting, and 2) it was Season 4, episode 3, and that episode has really loud wailing at one point)

The woman is leaned against the rail/plexiglass separating the steps and the seat, eyes closed. She leans up, opens her eyes a fraction, and decides to loudly say the next gem that has popped into her head.

“I’m a Yankee. I’m from the North!”

That’s nice. So’s my dad.

“Grant won the war!”

Yes, yes he did.

“Rebels didn’t win shit.”

I internally facepalmed, realizing that if I did it in real life, it probably would’ve just set her off more or something worse would’ve happened.

Yes, we know “Rebels didn’t win shit.” You’re in Roanoke, Virginia. I notice that other people on the bus are trying really hard to ignore her. The driver has the patience of a saint having to listen to this woman’s drunken rambling.

She continues with how no one in the south likes her because she’s A YANKEE and not a Southern Belle. No, I’m pretty sure people don’t like you because you’re loud.

As we’re nearing Campbell Court, her head is against the plexiglass again and her eyes are closed, she loudly says “And don’t trust black men!”

The woman who is now sitting across from me (chewing gum with her mouth open like a goddamn giraffe) stops chewing and stares at her. The drunk lady continues on her tirade, completely blocking out the fact that maybe 5 people on the bus are white, stating that “They never treat you right and all they care about is money!”

Due to all the buses having video/audio surveillance, I’m pretty sure something will be done eventually. I didn’t wait to find out, I just got the hell off and went to the next bus I needed.

omg.

I really want to say “Stay weird, Roanoke,” but this isn’t weird, this is more of “You need a babysitter.”

Advertisements

I’m listening to KUEC Live (they got to do a live episode!) and it cracks me up. Jamie is currently hiding in the living room with a sad, “injured” old dog listening to a serial killer documentary. While we both have misophrenia, his is far worse than mine and therefore I can usually tune out the crunching so I can listen to Ursula tell the internet stories.

The other day, Jamie said that he thought Bug was going deaf. Bug is usually very good in coming in when called (she does excited zoomies), but has been ignoring us in favor of chewing on grass (or taste-testing the tips of the wild onion that grows in the backyard. she goes “chew-makeface-spit-lookmoregrass!”)

Two days later, Firefly and Dunk got into it while letting everyone out after dinner. Everyone knows the routine: crate for dinner, everyone out so we can go outside to pee and play. We let Firefly stay out and Jamie pointed out, after Ugly surprised her, that she may be going blind.

Awesome.

So now we have:

+ a grumpy old man who believes that fences are for Other People.
+ a grumpy old girl who may be going blind (she’s a 10 year old hound mix, so of course)
+ a crazy old girl who is probably going deaf, which it’s more surprising that she hasn’t gone deaf yet because she’s a white dog.

Yesterday, Jamie stopped by my work to surprise me with a bag of Tsum Tsums. He had found that the 3-pack packages (small, medium, large) were on sale for $1.88, so he bought me six.

I am getting so many Tsum Tsums. These things are aweosme. (this morning, we went onto the website that has the list of tsum tsums and there is a Lucifer somewhere in the world. I need Lucifer in my life. He will go great with my Lucifer statue)

In my hunt of random Monster High Minis and Tsum Tsums, we found a toy. It’s called the “Stinky Pig Game.” You…push the belly to get the sound, roll a die, and hand it over before it farts on you. Jamie was adamant against getting it. I pointed out what soon-to-be-11 year old wouldn’t want this?

 

I’ve come to the decision (again) that I need me a dress dummy. I know they’re called “dress forms” but I’ve always known them as dummies, so that’s what I’m going to continue to call them. So I was looking up how much duct tape I would need to make my own, and then I realized I would have to buy a pair of leggings or something because there’s really nothing that I have that is form-fitting enough to make legs.

I found a video on how to make my own dress dummy while looking for “how many rolls” and..it was weird. So my guess is that I’m going to need at least 3 rolls of regular duct tape. The video was just a moving type of what I knew what to do when I looked up years ago how to make my own dummy.

(and this is what I do instead of doing research for a story idea. woo.

Phone post

I don’t know what it is about Monster High, but I love it. I had insomnia one night and watched four or five of the movies while Jamie snored away a few months back. And then, yestrrday, I found some blind packs at Kroger for “half off” (they were $1.50) and got four of them. We went back to the same Kroger where I went through all the remaining packs in search of Lagoona and Rochelle. 

They’re adorable little toys, but hefty enough to bean someone if you’ve got good aim. I’d love to get my hands on the rag doll minis (despite the whole jamie probably has koumpounophobia thing) and the mostly ghostly are “transparent” like they are in the Haunted movie.

This is bad. This is like my fascination with Tsum Tsums. (speaking of which, why can’t I get Iago??)

I’ve realized that the more I tell people about odd things that have happened to Jamie and myself, the more I think they don’t believe me. I tell people I work on stories, so do they think that the weird little quips of stuff we’ve done (or stuff I’ve done) is just some…expansion, some tall-tale that they can’t verify?

 

People do say that reality is weirder than fiction, but the more I talk about things, the more I wonder if anyone believes me. I figure I could put up some shortened bits to, I don’t know, prove my point. I know that by no means am I a total weirdo or that I have lead a “wild and crazy” past life.

+ I can’t say that I saw DFD when they came to Roanoke, dropped acid, and all that fun stuff. That was Jamie. I, unfortunately, had the flu and was banned from leaving the house.

+ I have seen Mini-Ace (from Mini Kiss) get shot in the face with a Roman Candle. (from where I was standing, it looked like he got shot in the face. They finished their set)

+ I have been in a crowd of people, who chanted “You Fucked Up” at a guy who was on stage, got pissed off, and threw a fire extinguisher into the crowd before running off (like a bitch), and ended up being chased out of the state we were in for the concert. Fun times (the guy that got hit with the fire extinguisher was ok. He ended up getting stitches)

+ A friend of mine ended up getting run over by a golf cart holding four people. He was drunk so he didn’t feel it. I thought it was hilarious.

+ We lived a few minutes away from the guy who…cut his mom’s head off with a hacksaw (he’s in prison and he will not be released for a very long time)

+ I am the reason why the school system I was in has a rule against bondage! (ahahahahaha. It’s been years and I still find it hilarious)

 

+ A guy that my dad worked with, years and years ago, gave me a stack of papers that I learned were hacking codes. All because I had managed to break our PC.

+ I knew how ancient priests took out the brain when I was 6 (I was obsessed with mummies at the time)

+ Cleaning recently deceased old people’s houses is really unnerving. There was only one house that I remember not feeling like I was being watched and scrutinized.

+ I have a 2nd edition English copy of Mein Kampf. I bought it, for 50-cents, off a really angry old woman (along with her copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls). She was going off about really terrible things. I paid the whole dollar for the books and hid in the car with Jamie while Allen continued browsing the yard sale. It’s important to preserve history.

 

Just various things. I had a plan to do more weird stories (like Jamie watching a girl attempt to  do a strip-tease before getting beaned with the ceiling fan while I was upstairs watching the host’s bird attempt to mess with as many people as possible.) But I’m having a bit of a brain fart and, looking over this, I realize that this is enough little bits of weirdness. Doesn’t involve the attempts of raising the dead or late-night wanderings.

little treats

(I have no idea what to name today’s post, so we’ll just go with treats)

+ Bonsack walmart had a Giant. Stuffed. Sloth. for $20. I told Jamie I needed it in my life, and the next morning, he dropped it on my head. Sloth is massive, sitting at almost my height when I sit beside it (so…just over 2-ft tall in its sitting position). He’s a 3-toed sloth with this little smile, like he’s up to something.

Jamie and I have yet to find another one out in the world.

But, Sloth is also…really creepy. He just sits there with this tiny smile, as if he’s up to something. Jamie swears that he keeps thinking there’s someone else in the room when he spots Sloth from the corner of his eye.

+ Someone did a snow-dance for the area and we got snow. I’m kind of blaming a former coworker of mine because she, and her two little girls, decided to do some old-wives-tale things (wear pjs inside out, flush ice cubes down the toilet–the ice cubes was one I hadn’t heard about before). But, it is January so I’m really not surprised.

One of my customers finds the panic absolutely hilarious. Her words were “I’m from New York. This is nothing.”

+ Thanks to the whole New Level of Cold, my joints have decided that they are going to work even less. Working with orders and doing my daily work routines have gotten slower.

I want to live where there is no snow.

The day after it snowed, we were walking back to the car and Jamie said that he was thankful for the breeze. It was freezing outside, but the sun was bright enough to start melting some of the ice. He continued with: “I am a prime candidate for hypothermia. We should go swimming. I don’t care if it’s 20 degrees.”

I told him he is never allowed to attempt to go to Dylatov Pass. He continued with plans of moving to the beach and pointed out that travel to Russia is out of the question, despite the tourism that Dylatov Pass probably has.

+ Yesterday morning, Jamie burst into the bedroom yelling about how I needed to get up despite having a migraine. Hobbes had busted through the gate again (a new spot) and a woman had told Jamie which way he was headed. Throw on shoes and a jacket, we hopped in the car, shoving the other dogs out of the way so they wouldn’t get out, and went down the street. We hit a nearby stop sign and I saw Hobbes book it into one of the apartment buildings we live near. Jamie went up, pulled halfway into the pull-in area for the apartment and stopped the car.

He threw open his door, loudly saying that Hobbes was a bad dog, I opened the door and got Hobbes in the car, who immediately sat on my lap. Jamie huffed and stomped back into the car and pulled out. As he turned around, he pointed out that there were a couple of people standing outside and laughing at us. Hobbes sat on my lap, attempting to lick Jamie’s head as Jamie was telling him he was a bad dog and he was really unhappy. A cop ended up behind us and Jamie was like “If he pulls me over, I’m pulling into the driveway first.”

The officer didn’t stop to talk to us or anything. We figured he was probably confused as to why this Giant Dog was sitting on someone’s lap.

We told Hobbes he was a bad dog and brought him inside, where he romped around with the others.

Shortly thereafter

Firefly has done something to her front paw. It’s swollen, but she’s let us mess with it. I made Jamie buy some baby asprin after he dropped me off at work, so he gave one to Firefly along with popcorn (frito-dog now smells like popcorn) and she’s been milking it for all its worth.

I’m pretty sure it’s from where she was busting out of her crate.

Firefly also knows who’s the schmuck of the house because she totally makes it seem like it’s worse when Jamie’s around. She’ll walk fine around me, hop on the bed no problem. But if Jamie’s watching, she hobbles and can barely get on the couch.

+ Jamie decided to make a list of everything that was in the chest freezer while I was working on dinner. I went to get the bit of green onions while telling Bug to back up and ended up slamming the back of my head against the top of the fridge and the bottom of the freezer door. It caused instant tears.

I’ve had a migraine ever since.