Be Aggressive

Because I'm cheap, I refuse to pay $2 for the convenience of being able to take out money from another bank's ATM so I killed two birds with one stone and returned some library books on my way there - they're both within walking distance but I took the bus since I'm also lazy.

I got off the bus minutes later, I probably live around 10 blocks away from my bank, but it was my day off, and ambled to the cross walk. I probably could have made it across the road but that would have involved sprinting and that was a little too much exertion for my casual excursion. I slowed as I reached the edge of the curb and adjusted my bag, digging around for my iPod to change the song. I looked up because I sensed someone encroaching on my personal space only to find this aggro black dude standing just a little too close and mouthing something in my general direction.

I was a little startled but I really didn't feel like chatting (do I ever?) and quickly turned my gaze in the other direction - foolishly hoping that he would get the hint. I waited the obligatory 10 or so seconds and glanced sideways only to be met with his insistent gaze. Foiled again, I pretended to be looking for something in my bag (where is my Swiss Army knife when I need it?) as I casually turned up the volume on the iPod.

Then my aggressive black friend decides to turn his lurking up a notch and proceeds to talk (yelling, really) so loudly that I can actually make out what he's saying over my obnoxiously loud music (something about just wanting to talk with me, but maybe I'm not interested - gee, ya think?) as the light turns green ahead of me. I make a break for it and make it across the street in five quick strides as I'm left to wonder just what kind of woman succumbs to street-corner lotharios...

The Cigarette Run

Team Gingerbread: Oh shush! I mean what else do you really have to do tonight, except go home and feed your six cats?
The Pansy: I don't have any cats
Team Gingerbread: Yet
Convenience Store Clerk: (laughs) That was good

This Jezebel Gawker article reminded me of this little exchange and is only funny because none of it applies to me.

Fortune Cookies and Other Things I Don't Really Believe In

I got food delivered on Sunday and didn't really get around to eating the included fortune cookies until sometime Tuesday when they had gotten to the point where they were so stale that they were almost fresh again (they had been sitting on the kitchen counter next to an open window in direct sunlight, when it wasn't pouring out).

I cracked one open for a mid-morning snack (read: hungover breakfast) with my tea and Red Bull chaseronly to find no fortune strip inside - strange because I always seem to get the cookies with 2 or more strips inside, always picking the better fortune, naturally.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I had a nagging sense that this was actually bad luck, but that could also be a figment of my wild imagination.

I proceeded to cookie number two, and again, no fortune. "This doesn't bode well," I muttered absentmindedly to myself as I scarfed down the cookie.

Third time's the charm I said as I gingerly snapped my third, and final, cookie in half. Success! A fortune: "You have firm convictions - stand strong behind them".

Hear that kids? That roughly translates to 'many more unsolicited opinions coming right up!'

Unsolicited post it notes to my roommate

The pitter patter of little feet (or more specifically the clicking of your stupid washed up alcoholic of a boyfriend's dog) woke me up this morning.

I hope you're happy.

P.S. I hate you.

Happy Wednesday.

in a completely unrelated way Lozo's Guide made me almost snort coffee through my nose this morning.

On relative purity and strange boys

The Pansy: You mean I have to count how many people I've slept with?
Team Gingerbread: Oh, you're one of those girls!
The Pansy: (indignantly) I'm not 'one of those girls', I just don't want to have to count...
Team Gingerbread: ...because then it reminds you that you are, in fact, 'one of those girls'!

Derelicte (to team gingerbread, on her pink vest): Oooh! You look like a giant strawberry
Team Gingerbread: (warily) Um, thanks?
Derelicte: No, it's a compliment. I could take a giant bite out of your face
Team Gingerbread: Again, thanks...

Happy Friday everyone!

Observations about our neighbours

The female neighbour doesn't seem to have a job, unless you count bossing around your Peurto Rican houseboy and toking away in the backyard while your child plays under a camper van (true story). Her husband is also similarly lacking in a job, although maybe he travels for work who knows, because we rarely see him (I'm talking wouldn't be able to pick him out of a line up).

They employ some sort of all night security team to guard their valuables, possibly due to their heightened paranoia from all the weed they smoke. I don't even think they walk their own dogs (I think it's just one dog now since the other appears to have either died, or is permanently confined to a kennel in the basement). There's also the matter of the two campers that are alternatingly always parked in their driveway. Methinks perhaps its a mobile meth den.

The most interesting part of the story is of course that despite the fact that they have this garage with garage doors on both sides and ample room for two cars (they own at least three, plus their staff have two cars), they choose to park their two most expensive vehicles on the street. On any given night, either the Jag or the Escalade are parked on the street, not even under a street light either. Who parks a Jaguar S Type-R on the street?!? Do you want your car to be vandalized/broken into. You live next door to a sorority house that gets pranked a lot. On any given night there are drunk university students on the prowl. We got our driveway repaved and for about three weeks there were large chunks of concrete sitting at the end of our driveway within a stone's throw from the parked Jag.

Maybe the reason they employ a security team is that the wife wouldn't even be able to run after the culprits since she's been pregnant for what seems like two years. She does have one child, although he hasn't been around as of late either. Her child is kind of like Will from Days since he hasn't aged in the 2+ years we've lived next door. I'm pretty sure it's a boy, but this is just speculation here.

Long story short, we're pretty sure our neighbours are drug smugglers or something of that nature.

conspiracy theorism is tiring work,