My estranged relationship with the mysterious bus bike rack

I'm sportin a couple extra 'puppy pounds' as my mama would call them. I was so dedicated to my exercise routine during the summer - "mastering" my buns, thighs, maybe just 1 britney ab? But when school started, I really just wanted to focus on my studies, settling into my new house, playing and making friends. I brought my mom's bike from home, promising myself that I would ride it to school everyday to keep up those buns o' steel. Maybe someday I really would be able to pick up a quarter with my cheeks...

There was one thing holding me back: the bike rack on the front of the bus. I had no idea how it worked and for that reason it terrified me. It was an embarrassing disaster waiting to happen. So for two weeks I studied in preparation. Every time I was lined up to get on the bus, I would watch as bikers decked out in neon spandex and weird cyborg silver pocketless backpacks would expertly pull, tug, lift, push, and click their bicycles into place on that mystery bike rack.

Today was monumental: I took my relationship with the mystery bike rack to the next level in full on confrontation. After hitting the snooze twice, I threw back "my fuzzy" (my endearingly named super soft artifical fur blanket), slammed on some concealer, a bit of eyeliner and mascara, some jeans, a pink tank top and a cute dangly beady necklace. I packed my (noncyborg) backpack, jabbed at my kickstand and we were out the door. I hadn't ridden a bike since Cuba - so it didn't help that my shaky balance added to my shaky hands. I don't know why I was so nervous. For some reason I just knew i was going to make a fool out of myself.

I got to the bus stop nice and early so that I would have time to rehearse the moves: roll my bike off the curb, flip it 180, lift it up about 2 feet, set it into the slot, and put the bar up over my front wheel to secure the bike in place. Okay, we've got this. The 75 came. There was already one bike on the rack which meant that I would have to lift up my bike between that bike and the bus. And I have biceps worth crap. Somehow I manage to heave my teal Tahoe over the other bike and into its slot. But when I went to put the bar up over the wheel, it got caught in the spokes! The whole bus is waiting. I worked on it for about 35 seconds, which, according to my understanding of American bus culture, is entirely too long and unacceptable. Mortified, I motioned to the bus driver who put the Metro into park and had to come down the stairs and help me. The bar was jammed so tightly into my spokes, that even the santa clause-sized 40 something was struggling to get it loose. Together, we managed to wiggle the bar out and place it over my front wheel just like I had seen the cyborg backpackers do. "Sorry bout that, " he apologized - as if it was his fault for my estranged relationship with the mysterious bike rack

I followed sweetheart santa onto the bus, and blushing from embarassment and heat, slipped into the closest seat to keep the bus from waiting any longer. I looked down to find my baby pink tank smeared with black grease - war wounds. I prepared for frustrated glares, but when the man next to me quietly whispered that I had grease on my forehead, I laughed, "seriously?" and remembered thankfully that I was in Seattle where everyone is easy going unless gas prices hike, traffic is gridlocked, the deadbolt won't turn, or the dishwasher door falls on your pinky toe.

I'm gonna ride my bike again tomorrow :)

frillies, fluffy pom poms and dental floss

So Jared and I were at Victoria's Secret in U Village because I got this super sweet coupon in the mail for "one free panty", "Victoria's very sexy lipstick", and "$10 off any bra". I picked out my free panty (yay!) and was browsing through frillies, fluffy pom poms and dental floss when this sales associate came up to me. She was about 35 with glasses, her hair pulled back and looking very professional in a black blazer, matching slacks and heels. "Oh!" she exclaimed excitedly, pointing to the hot pink uber cleavage corset I was looking at - "I just bought that one and i LOVE it". To my (and less likely jared's) horror, this woman starts unbuttoning her blazer. After she reaches the last button she tears it open like superman revealing his "S" - and lo and behold, with her breasts up to her chin, there is the barbie bustier. "See?, she offered, waiting for approval. I was in such shock I didn't know how to react - possibilities could have been "Let me check my wallet for 'ones' " or maybe a girly "how cute!" - but nothing came out. I just turned to Jared - he looked boyishly blushy and was obviously just as surprised at her forwardness. I looked back at the sales lady as she was rebuttoning her blazer and all that seemed normal in this situation was to turn to Jared, laugh, and give him a high-five.

North Korea, Onion crusted chicken, and members of the lair

My International studies class has me reading the New York times everyday. Yesterday's news: The U.S. Secretary of State of Asian and Pacific affairs warned North Korea that 'it can either have nuclear weapons or it can have its future'. Geez louise - we have some big fatty american opinions huh?

While I was on the phone talking to my mama waiting for the 75 (I actually caught it this time), this guy came up and leaned over to pick up a piece of paper at my feet. When he unfolded the crumpled piece, looked at it and threw it away, i figured he was looking for something of his. But then I saw as he continued down the road, he would stop at every piece of trash he saw and throw it into the nearest garbage can. How sweet I thought...

Parmesean, Cajun, and onion crusted chicken is on sale buy one get one free at QFC. Sweet. do it.

While I was walking toward the bus stop today, I saw this grungy teenager covered in facial piercings go up to 2 boys around his age - what shocked me was when he said, almost yeling: "give me some money. give me your cell phone. give me something." okay then...

We voted on a house name: its called "the lair". Yup it was my idea. I've decided I really like my housemates...we are all so quirky and different but we somehow work really well together.

Andrea is a sweetheart and a half - we're like sisters who look out for each other. her butt is mindblowing
Jeff, the german subletter is great - he always has either a guinness or a flask of whisky in his hand
Ben is one of the strangest people I've ever met - but equally endearing. He is a physics TA - and it shows. Here are some of my favorite Ben quotes (which ive written on a piece of paper and posted on our refrigerator):
- "Plus, he has curly hair - that's sexy!" - referring to Dan as a father figure
- "I would date anthony if I were a girl. Wouldn't you?"

Which brings me to Anthony - Chinese/vietnamese. He's one of those people who is quiet 95% of the time, and then the 5% that he speaks out is random and funny as hell. I always know its anthony in the kitchen when I hear the rice pour into the cooker...

Dan (the father figure) plays electric guitar - my favorites are ozzy's crazy train, john mayer's why georgia, and the super mario themsong. Even from downstairs, whenever he plays it sounds like he's right in my room because the music travels through the vents.

Cordelie is just a whole nother story - i dont know about that girl - she is a crazy psychological mix. She'll lock herself in her room for days, studying to e4.0 her honors organic chem class and then splurge by getting drunk and running around calling people ho's. 98% of the time she has food stuck in her teeth.

Will and chase are adorable - i love them. They're like little puppies. Chase gives me hugs when i come home from school.
Will tried to fix my straightener with his welding iron. yeah that didn't work...

And then of coures theres Sir PCB V. I love him. He's snuggly. When Caroline came over last week, she scooped him up into her arms like a little baby and was rocking him back and forth vigorously saying "He LOVES it he LOVES it" haha oh caroline...

that's the latest. essay time.
*loves*

p.s. leave me comments
p.p.s. como anda is a popular phrase in cuba and other latin american countries. it means like 'hows it going..?"

Crap weasle

I missed the bus this morning. I saw it screamin down sandpoint way. Bus 75. I catch it every morning. I wasn't so sure about this morning. It was 9:09.

If I had been watching me, I would have been point and laughing. I looked like one of those 4th graders with a care bear lunch box, arms outstretched with a hot pink jansport jostling all awkard on their back. My back pack was stuffed with books, binders, a laptop, my purse and my lunch - awkardly and hurriedly packed so that each corner somehow managed to jab me in a diffent sensitive spot. It was one of those pack jobs where you just jam everything in their and end up with this amoeba mass - you couldn't even describe the shape. The shape is wtf? So I hear the 75. The amoeba is on my back. I'm stabbing the key into the lock. Of course it won't turn the deadbolt because , well, we're 9 students living in a house owned by a woman who realizes that there are 9 students living in her house. We pay her $3000 a month and she could care less if our bolts don't work, our windows don't open, there is a hole in the wall connecting dan and chase's room, the dishwasher door drops and smashes your toe when you open it, our washer and dryer are coin operated, jeff has to secure his door with a combination lock and the front right burner doesn't work. So the 75 is tootin. I hear the deadbolt click. I leap over Sir Pussy Cocknballs V - the orange tabby with a broken tale who spends his day waiting for someone to undo the broken deadlock and let him in. So Sir PCB V is right there. The amoeba and I carefully tiptoe around his broken tale. I jostle past a mexican spraying mats out the backdoor of an Italian restaurant. The 75 goes tearin down the hill. I'm gonna make it. Amoeba stabbing, keys still jangling in hand, my bangs are sticking to my sweaty forehead - I'm definitely not cute anymore. And....its gone. 10 minutes late to class. Crap weasle.

I saw a girl wearing black booty shorts, a fur-lined parka, a wide braided gold belt, and fuzzy boots. Don't forget the pigtails. Who wakes up and decides to go to the University of Washington dressed like they just stepped out of a Nelly music video?

So ya know when you go in self check-out at QFC...and you have something hella random like mongolian bean sprouts or a star fruit? There isn't a code for mongolian bean sprouts or star fruit so you have to push the button "no label". And magically 3 seconds later the computer screen shows that you bought 3 pounds of mongolian bean sprouts and a massive star fruit. HOW DOES IT KNOW? I know the secret. I asked. There's a videocamera. And I felt slightly violated to notice that the camera shoots right past the 3 pounds of mongolian bean sprouts and stares directly at your crotch. Yah. I feel enlightened. And disturbed.

I bought gold fish. I'm pretty happy.

Time to read about the formation of trade routes and economic sub-spheres within the pre-modern world system...Can't wait!

*kissies* i miss you