Bus stops are good for more than just the bus – apparently

Tags

curiouser and curiouser, full moon freaks, people scare me, random, wtf

I had to go back to work last night to do the month end stuff that I usually end up having to do, and so, accordingly, I hoofed it down to the bus stop to catch the more frequent number six.

Because I’d been home and had showered I was wearing jeans and a funky tank top and my hair looked almost party-good, if it hadn’t been for the wind. (seriously, add some heavy eye-liner, a leather jacket, excessive black and silver jewelry and one might have considered me an aspiring rocker chick of some sort.) J asked me who I was going on a date with, which made the kiddo giggle. I told him it was none of his business, but he had a lot of money, which made her laugh even more.

When I arrived at the stop I noted that there was a couple waiting near the schedule sign, so I smiled at them as I leaned over to see when the next one was coming.

“It’s late,” the guy said and I looked up at him. He was smiling as he said it, so I smiled back and thanked him. The girl smiled at me too and I nodded. He was fair-haired and pleasant to look at, she was slight and dark, with large eyes.

“It’s always late,” I say. It doesn’t really matter though because it comes so frequently. It was cold and windy, so I paced a little, more to keep warm than anything. On my way back towards where the couple is standing he waves his cell phone at me.

“Hey,” he says. “We’re getting a cab, do you want to split it?”

“Thanks, but no. I haven’t got any cash on me.”

“We’re going the same way anyway. That’s not a problem,” he says, waving the cell phone dismissively.

“I appreciate the offer,” I say. “But I’ll be alright.” In all honesty I like the wind and had been thinking about walking downtown to enjoy it.

“We’d really like it if you’d come with us,” he says.

Did I hear him right? I look at their faces and yes. Yes I did. He’s smiling, this sort of half-pleading look in his eyes and she, well, she looks like she could eat me alive. The cab pulls up then and I smile back.

“Maybe another time,” I hear myself say as the cab pulls up. He nods, but winks at me anyway as they climb into the car.

“You bet,” he says.

***

In other news: I wrote! And am writing still! That, at least, feels good.

The Kid is registered for High School and things are, well, they are.

listening to: Arcane Voices – Amethystium
reading: The Other Boleyn Girl – Phillipa Gregory
word count: 1481 (considering that the goal was 500… woot!)
eating: pasta salad
feeling: amused
headspace: cluttered

How To Annoy A Forex Teller: Part I

Tags

full moon freaks, people scare me

Arrive first thing in the morning and wait outside for the teller to open the door. Barge in when she does so and then loudly ask for some assistance. When the teller comes to the window and smiles at you, refuse to smile back. Ask her if she takes coins. When she says, hesitantly that yes, she does, and asks you what kind, sneer and say ‘Canadian ones’ as though you heard her swearing. When the teller says yes, rummage in your backpack for two full minutes and then dump out the plastic bag, where you’ve been keeping all the Canadian coins you’ve found over the last seven years, into her tray. Tap your fingers and huff while she counts them.

yeah.

Forty freaking bucks in freaking quarters dimes and nickels. Just the sort of thing I wanted to start my day with thankyouveryfreakingmuch.

Last week was asshole week at work and this week I fear that it’s going to be brainless twat week. Maybe that’s the PMS talking but for crying out loud it’s not a holiday all over the world today, and no i do not speak French. Sorry.

Hehe, I did have a scary-funny one in today though. Imagine a mid-western accent:

“You ever look a chicken right in the eye?”
“Yes,” I said, since my first pet was none other than Sweet Pea the chicken.
“That’s Bush right there. Exactly like ‘im. Nothing upstairs. I tell you his Dad’s still pullin the strings!”

The conversation continues and this man tells us that he has “enough guns to protect [his] family from anyone!” especially since there was going to be a revolutionary war soon in the states. Really now? And what makes him think that? “Oh, I can smell it, can’t you? We don’t have any control over the government anymore, and that’s the only way it’s going to go if things don’t turn soon.” The Whirlwind then asks what he thinks of the election, because you know: gun-toting loony, this might be fun! “Oh,” he says. “There’s no one in the top spots now fit for office, they don’t care about the things that most people care about! Only one’s good for the White House is John Paul. Now he’s the one got his head on straight. Only beef anyone has with him is the pro-life stuff, but other than that he’s got the right ideas.”

First off, the idea that guns are the only thing he can use to protect his family just makes me shake my head. How very typical it seems. I just had a vision of this big square man in his wife-beater and an ammo vest perched on the roof of his house with a case of beer, a couple of shotguns and/or a rifle of some kind, scanning the road with his binoculars, looking for a reason to shoot someone. And this talk of a revolutionary war? He’s talking an armed overthrow of the government here ladies and germs. Given the mass paranoia involved with the ‘war on terror’ and such, something like that would have to be an inside job. Does he know something we don’t or is that wishful thinking on his part? *ponders* Now… John Paul? Much funnier to me to think he meant the pope, but I’m pretty sure he meant this guy. But the kicker?

“I just love it up here. I think if things turn ugly, which they will, mark me, I’m going to bring my family here!”

Oh goody. Come gun-toting loonies, we’d love to have you in our back yards!

listening to: Amethystium – Ad Astra
eating: thing with noodles and red pasta sauce…. spaghetti, that’s it.
reading: Flesh and Spirit – Carol Berg
feeling: bloated, tired, crampy, hot, cold, grr…
headspace: Palus Somnii
word of the day: daft

A Tale of Idiocy

Tags

assholery, DIAF, full moon freaks, things you don't tell your mother, wtf

Our neighborhood is definately going down the crapper.

I was woken up this am before my alarm by some dude who locked himself out of the building. Now, this isn’t just some dude, he’s the building’s resident dealer. Our landlady knows this and has been trying to catch him for weeks so she can evict him. Anyway, I suppose dude had trotted down the street at some ungodly hour this am to make a sale, forgetting both his jacket and his keys. can we say “Bonehead”?

So what does he do? First, he wiggles the door, to see if it’s open. He is the one I gather, who usually puts a rock in the corner so that it doesn’t close properly. This time this morning whoever left for work or was coming home got wise to it and kicked the rock away. (I know I always do, I don’t want some random thief or whatever coming into the building, no way!) Granted, because of our position right above the door, it wakes me immediately. I don’t think anything of it at first because the door is opening and closing all night – but it continues. He jiggles, he whistles, he implores passing strangers for the use of their cell phones, all of which I can hear clear as day even though my window is closed. I roll over and mumble my displeasure at the freak whining under my balcony.

My alarm goes off, and J’s goes off and he turns his lamp on because that’s what people do when they’re going to get up from work. I’ve barely got my eyes open when dipshit buzzes us. Trust me, this is NOT a sound anyone wants to hear first thing in the morning. Granted the guy is probably freezing, but I have a hard time summoning and kind of sympathy for him. If it had been me I’d have either contacted the landlady and begged forgiveness for waking her, or hopped down to the 24-hour restaurant an hour ago to get some hot chocolate and wait until I knew people would be awake, but no, this guy is not normal. He has to get back inside because he knows he’ll have another ‘customer’ soon. So we ignore it the first time, thinking he’d get the picture, but no, he does it twice more.

I slap on my robe and poke my head over the deck and tell him to stop fucking buzzing and he whines about how cold he is – which I can see since he’s wearing short sleeves – but I tell him no. I don’t know him from Jack the Ripper thankyouverymuch if it’s urgent he can call the landlady. (It’s true, I’ve never seen him before!) J, peeved now that the guy’s giving me attitude calls her for him.

So our landlady drags her poor self out of bed and lets the fucker in, much to his chagrin. I’m sure he didn’t want her to know about his outings anyway. Then there is silence for and we think its over.

But its not.

Someone is outside now, yelling to our cold dude to be let in. Lo, if it isn’t his customers. J, out on the balcony with his morning smoke tells them to please not yell since people are still sleeping and the guy pulls attitude. Says he lives in the building and would J mind if he let him and his friends into the building. J says no, that he doesn’t know who they are and if it’s important he can call the landlady. Obviously he doesn’t live here and certainly doesn’t want the attention of the landlady, so he gets mouthy with J instead. Bad idea.

“You don’t like me, do you?” he says and J, blowing smoke, replies;
“No, I don’t,” and comes inside to call the landlady.

Our buzzer goes again and it’s just after 5am. I’m ready to march down the stairs and punch all three of their faces in, but from the strung-out glitter in their eyes I’m sure none of them’d feel it anyway.

Our landlady lets them in, but tells them its the last time. J tells her to call the cops, but she already knows they won’t send anyone because “there aren’t enough personnel to keep up with all the requests and complaints.”

Ten minutes later and they’re leaving and the cocky fucker buzzes our apartment again. At the glass doors I watch one of them finger me as they climb into a white car with no licence plates.

J predicts they will be back in two-three hours and he’s livid.

When we moved in the worst people here were the college kids who drank too much on a Friday night. Now we’ve got orange lights outside so junkies can’t shoot up and dealers and pimps are moving in and then out once they’re busted. J wants to speak to our local MLA who’s set up shop down the hill, because we don’t want this crap, especially if we’re going to have the kiddo with us.

Especially not if we’ve potentially got a repeat of this incident in our future.