Melody drew robots for me!
Sometimes I ask Melody heads or tails because I am too lazy to make up my mind or even find a coin.
So far, none of her recommendations have led me astray.
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Yesterday I got a ride to school because of the rain. I decided to take the bus home, because I am trying to be responsible for something. Since I was hoping to get some exercise in at the same time, I walked to 10th and Como before the 4 rolled up. It’ s a good thing that I bought the semester bus pass! So there I was, digging through my wallet, sweaty from overdressing, headphones blaring, cell phone suddenly ringing, and my bus pass was nowhere to be found. I think that I have used it twice since I got it. Maybe only once. I explained my dilemma to the bus driver, and she told me to keep looking, so I did. I pulled everything out of my wallet. I unfolded all the receipts. I looked in every page of my business-card-sized address book (handmade by me back in the TCF days).
One of the other passengers offered me some of their stored-value card, but I was not about to pay for a bus ride twice, even if one of the payments was not visible and at hand. There is no way that I can get seventy dollars worth of bus riding out of my pass now, and I wasn’t going to make matters worse by having a complete strangers pay for me to ride another ten blocks up Johnson. By 29th I couldn’t pretend to be looking any more, so I apologized again and jumped off in front of Snap!. I suppose that I will ask… someone… if my pass can be reissued, because this whole Winter Wonderland business makes me not want to ride my bike.
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Somehow this post sat in my bin for a few weeks. It’s a little weird to see it now.
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“Lisa, can I have a web conference here on Sunday?”
“I already said yes”
“Will you make cookies?”
So there you have it. The Watermelon Sauce project will have its first meeting on Sunday. There will be cookies and punch. If you are a web-type person or a hot-lady-type person (or, if there is a god in heaven, both combined into one amazing package), you should let me know that you want to come. To my house.
Mouseketeer Roll call:
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The new record for a human reading consecutive pages of my blog is 45. If it was you, and you are of age to drink beer, I might be persuaded to provide you with a congratulatory six pack.
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‘cause I didn’t have to take the bus from block e or nyes. Nyes! We closed you!
And then some lady was throwing up in my garbage. HA ha.
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Seriously, it is the worst sport ever. FUCK YOU BASEBALL. Actually, I’m glad that the team is doing so well now that I’m not playing any more. In fact, I may have been hurting the team. Just great. Nothing but triples!
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Summit Oatmeal Stout. Fuck yeah.
Grumpy’s. Fuck yeah.
Billa billa, well, not so much. I mean, yeah, but only one gave me that shy smile that meant that if they wouldn’t have hooked up with friends and left that I should have talked to her or something. The dude with the pimpin’ Summit jacket (have you seen mine?).
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Cake Woman needed some sort of sedative to prevent her from killing everyone in a shopping frenzy, so I woke up on her couch at like 8am to her shrieking “it’s time to go fucking shopping!”
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Don’t say I told you so, because you know what, I told you! I can totally see the future!
Do I go to Woodbury to have Thanksgiving with Lisa and Stan and Stan’s family, or do I succumb to the foul hark of Mordor? Lo! I cross the river into Wysconsinne and there I shall smite the dark lord who cannot be named!
I think that I will sleep late and watch “the Seven Samurai.”
Bring me home some turkey!
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