Additionally, I have been informed that I have a bad attitude when I am only slightly ill. (When I am really sick, I’m an angel)
I’m the one who told myself about it.
The forecast for the next 36 hours calls for whining and occasional emotional outbursts.
I’d tell myself to sack up, but I’m afraid of the reaction I might have.
It’s too hot to make tea, and I want some.
There’s a stain on my notebook where your coffee cup was
And there’s ash in the pages now I’ve got myself lost
–Squeeze/Black Coffee In Bed
Is there a better smell than coffee?
Don’t even try to argue.
No one is going to hop over to Stumptown and get me a cup, are they?
Leaving the office this afternoon, I saw something that could really only happen here in Portlandia.
A very attractive young woman on a bicycle. Copiously pierced and tattooed. Singing at the top of her lungs with her arms in what I can only describe as being in the bicycle equivalent of the posture you’d use sitting in the Lotus position. Every now and then she’d sing ommmmmm.
You keep rocking it, bicycle meditation girl. You probably won’t need to stop quickly or turn today.
Having your hands near the handlebars is overrated anyway.
Since I’m writing this from my car, I’m quite tempted to track her down and swerve at her. Just to see how she’d handle it.