But I've been a very busy lady. I've had two weeks of very lovely houseguests. First there was Michael (aka The New Jan Brady, who is supposed to post on here but has not as of yet) and his beau Ian, and then a few days later, there was Kris, my best friend from highschool. It's been crazy, I tell you. And in about a week and a half, my friend Nicole is coming up, and the week after that, my sister is coming for a week. I am a popular lady.
I digress. Now, I try to stay away from writing too many personal things on here. However, this past Wednesday was something special. Short bus special. Pour quoi? In three short hours I ran the marathon of abject humiliation. And survived. Because I'm a survivor, baby. Check it out:
10:30am- Chicago Bus. Try to get off at Millwaukee, only to find that my earring is attatched to the man standing next to me and have to get off at next stop as I cannot untangle myself from his Cosby sweater.
10:45am- Go to get on the Blue line, as I am walking onto the train, the strap on my shoe breaks and my shoe falls off, and the train takes off with me on it, leaving my shoe on the platform before I can do anything about it. Have to ride to Grand standing on one shoe, get onto next train, retrieve shoe at Chicago stop and get back on train.
1:00pm- Random fella on street asks for a light. "Sure! I have matches!" I say. I reach into my purse to grab them, and then hand to him what I believe to be a pack of matches, but is instead, a condom. And not just any condom. The kind Linday and I got from the funny vending machine in the bathroom at Twisted Spoke, which was labled "Black Studded Condom" and appeared to be manufactured to appeal to bikers or something.
Ta fucking da.
The sad thing is, people- I'm barely phased. My face was not even red. And let me tell you why- because when you have lived this so many times over, it's just another day. Oy.