Strangechord

Dragged my tired ass out of bed this morning. There were bad monsoons all night complete with the lightning and the thunder and the blackouts. I needed to get up at 5:30 am to catch the bus but my alarm clock was busily flashing …12:00 12:00 12:00… I remember in Iowa there was a number you could call for the local time and temperature. Yeah. People referred to it as “Time and Temperature”. hm. So, anyway, I’m not familiar with any number like that out here in Phoenix, and was trying to come up with a way to find out the time without having to get out of bed. I realized that when people leave messages on my voicemail it tells me the current time. So I dialed my voicemail and left myself a message. Then I checked my messages. How clever is that for someone who was deeply asleep moments before?

Nothing eventful happened on the bus today. Well, one guy moved from one seat to another and he had been sitting right by the rear door of the bus, so the driver thought he had gotten on by theback door and didn’t pay. Oh, and yesterday I bummed a guy with a prosthetic leg a cigarette. He was kinda cute. I am noticing all kinds of attractive handicapped people riding the bus. This man with some kind of palsy gets on the bus every day and today I noticed that his head was kinda sexy.

I pretty much loped to work. I’m dragging ass today. It was FREEZING on the bus and pretty cool for the AZ desert today all in all. I hoped that someone would sit next to me. Preferrably someone fat so I could snuggle up to their heat. But then a random ugly man sat down next to me. Not even close enough for me to catch a waft of warmth. *sigh* Emily says the high is supposed to be 82, but we will all believe it when we feel it.

The first headline I read this morning went: “LONDON (Reuters) - Around 2,000 ballet-goers were evacuated from London’s prestigious Royal Opera House on Thursday night when a backstage fire alarm went off - triggered by an exploding baked potato.”

I’m not going to link the story because this is the only part worth reading. Can you just imagine the scene? Posh London aristocrats prancing madly out of the ballet in fear of fire….all because someone blew up a potato in the microwave backstage. HAHAHA! And who eats microwave potatoes backstage at a ballet anyway?

Ok. That’s it. No pic, no wisdom. I feel like I’ve said enough.