The library is teaming with perverts. The kinds of people who come to the library to look at porn on the computer either because they get off on looking at porn in public or they don't have internet access at home to look at the porn there. This is almost as scary as people who read porn at the store and people who read porn in broom closets. I have nothing against porn. There is a time and a place for everything. That time and place is at home or at an establishment dedicated only to porn and other nudity related pursuits.
So while typing a very important email in between waiting for the bus and checking out some library books, I was shocked when a man wearing a long black jacket reached over my shoulder and touched the keyboard.
But it was just RT, a friend. Who informed me that we have not seen much of each other because (among many reasons) he has a new man friend. Speaking of love, I scheduled an eye doctor's appointment on Valentine's Day. Why? Because that was the only day open in February. People will sacrifice good vision for chocolate and heart covered commercialism. They may regret that later.
I have not been doing much of anything but laying around reading and being poor. This will increase with the news that all our hours at work are getting cut back.

An Actual Conversation about Blogs about Actual Conversations about Libraries.
Me: Did you read my blog? {side note: asking this questions is almost as lame as watching Star Wars}
EB: Yeah, and I didn't say those things. You misquoted me. You used other words for the words I did say.
Me: What! How?
EB: I didn't sound at all funny. It sounds like I didn't say one funny thing in the whole conversation.
Me: Well you didn't. You were laughing too hard. You said funny things before and after, but not during.
EB: Well I don't like it.
{So I guess that makes me the James Frey of bloggers.}

An Actual Conversation About Libraries.

EB: What time do you get off?

Me: Three.

EB: That's cool. What are you going to do?

Me: I don't know. Probably stop at the library.

EB: The Tigard one or the one at the community center by your house?

Me: The Tigard one. I don't like the one at the community center.

EB: Why not?

Me: I don't like the librarians.

EB: What!?

Me: Yeah. Well mostly just one of them. Ugh.

EB: What happened?

Me: Well I went up to the front desk to ask about these paperback books in the hall. I asked the library if I could take one or if they had to be checked out. She was like, What? So I asked again, Can I just take one of the mass markets sitting in the hall on the green shelf. She was like I don't understand what you are saying. So I though, maybe she is deaf. Maybe she really can't hear me. So I asked her again - Are the books on the cart outside free? She said I still can't understand what you are saying. If you are asking about the books outside they are free to borrow and bring back or trade.

EB: (laughing)

Me: So the next time I went back, the computer I was using turned off for no reason. So I went up to the desk and it was her agin. I told her there was something wrong with the computer and could I just log onto another one. She asked What did you do to it? So I knew she could hear me. I said, I didn't do anything. It just shut off and I want to make sure I can use another computer with my login since we only get an hour a day on the computers. I don't understand.
So I started thinking, is she deaf and reads lips? Or is just me? Do I sound like I have a speech impediment?

EB: No. I don't think so.

Me: I started thinking that maybe my whole life I had speech problem. Or maybe I've been mentally retarded all these years and no one ever bothered to tell me. Like I wasn't self aware enough to know that I was and no one wanted to make me feel bad by telling me that I was special needs. But I've heard myself on tape. I used to write for the paper in college and recorded interviews. So I know at one point I probably sounded normal. I mean I've done a lot of drinking and drugs since then, but it can't be that bad. Well not so many drugs. But drinking, yes. So I guess if I end up at Goodwill Industries, that will be a confirmation.

EB: (laughing) You should write a blog about this.

I had so much to say about what a personally difficult evening I had last night. How I had a headache. How I was a little sad. How I was up until 2:30 with the headache and thinking about things I have accomplished, what I’ve been doing with my life and what I would like to do.


But suddenly it seems like none of that matters. Like it was just another moment in the notorious, neurotic life of B.R.Y.


Though this morning sort of sucked just as much. I woke up with only 30 minutes to get ready, to find that I forgot to turn the dryer on last night and all of my pants, except my least favorite pants, were still wet.


Then I spent about ten minutes of my limited time standing in the closet rolling the sleeves of a shirt I wanted to wear, only to turn around and put on the same sweater I wore yesterday and Saturday. I could not get it together. And had a brief panic attack thinking I washed my bus pass only to find it in my wallet.


Then I realized all of my bras were in the washing machine. So today I am wearing the strapless bra I have worn only once before, under the almost-strapless bridesmaids dress I wore in TL’s wedding last May. I feel really bare with no straps. I feel like my boobs will at any moment go rogue and roll off into the distance. This prompted a quick and probably inappropriate conversation at work before opening to make sure from a trusted source that my chest was not bobbing like apples in a bucket of water.


When I got to the bus stop, someone had puked right by the stop so I had to stand there near the puke for about ten minutes because the bus was late. When I got on the bus some man was shaving his beard with an electric shaver. And it smelled like pickles.


Last nights angst coupled with this mornings drama left me feeling vulnerable and crazed and twitchy until about 9:30 when I drank some coffee and laughed at something someone in the warehouse said. And now things are back to normal.

An actual conversation between RF and myself regarding hairspray.








Location: Safeway, just after getting my haircut, in search of hairspray.





RF: What kind do you use?


Me: Whatever.


RF: This is what I use, it smells good.


Me: But do they test on animals?


RF: I don’t know, how do you tell?


Me: Well does it say any thing about animal testing on the bottle?


RF: No


Me: Then they probably do.


RF: Well….


Me: I don’t want to kill animals with poisonous hair spray. I mean, I’ll still eat them, but they shouldn’t die because of hairspray.


RF: I think they just test on, like, poodles.


Me: That might be okay. I don’t like poodles.


Me: I want something that won’t leave my hair crunchy. Does your stuff make your hair crunchy?


RF: Yeah, but I want that.


Me: Oh. Do you think they make organic hairspray?


RF: I don’t know. Probably something.


Me: I want something cheap.


RF: Then probably not organic.


Me: I want something that says its cheap, doesn’t test on animals, and won’t make my hair into dry Ramen. Why can’t they put that on the bottle?


RF: Hmmm….


Me: Are you finding this conversation amusing or obnoxious?


RF: Hmmm…


Me: You can say I’m crazy. I know it.

An actual conversation heard on the bus. And by conversation, I mean some guy was talking and some poor woman was nodding to be polite.

"Yeah. I wouldn't be on this bus but I can't get my driver's lisence back.......Oregon is one of those states that won't give you a lisence if you got suspened in another state......I got two DUIs in New York......I didn't know you can't smoke in bars no more......I was playing pool and smoking and some guy told me to put it out....a few minutes later a cop came in and gave me $500 fine....just for smoking....they would never do that back east......"

What a douche bag. He had a cigarette tucked behind his ear which is about the tool-iest thing a guy can do. Had he been wearing a popped collar, some Axe body spray, and carrying a 'High Times' magazine, I may have nominated him for People's Hottest Man cover.

When I was in junior high we had this social studies teacher who used to make us greet him in the morning by saying, as a group, "Here we are with smiling faces ready to learn so we can GOOOOOOO places."

And if you didn't say it, he would make you say it by your self in front of the class.

At the time I thought he was a bit of an A-hole. But in retrospect, if I were a newly graduated mid-twenties teacher returning to my home town to teach the new generation of small-town slackers, I would probably do something similar.

I am currently sitting at AA's apartment. He is in the kitchen cooking us some yummy dinner. I am typing. I like to think of AA as a bit of a muse. He always brings out my creative juices. Either that or he bores me to death.

You be the judge. No really, please judge us. I want to see the scorn and pity in your eyes. Just be careful, if you look at me like that, I may fall in love with you.

Speaking of love. Last night I had a night visitor. An old friend who I have not seen for years suddenly showed up and we spent the night in bed cuddling. It was the best night of my life.

He is very cute. Sort of the dark, silent, brooding type. He doesn't snore, doesn't hog the covers and doesn't mind it when I kick him out of bed at 4am.

And who is this mystery man? I will refer you back to this blog from August of 2007.

Take a minute to aquaint yourself with that posting before reading on below.








Pooh Bear! I got my pooh bear back, finally. So I wrote that blog on August 27, 2007 and I received a package from my mom on December 27, 2008 with Pooh Bear in it. One year and four months is a long time to be with out your pookie.

Mom asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I said two things. I wanted rain boots and I wanted my Pooh Bear back. On 12/26/08, I picked up a package from the post office that had other gifts in it. There was the yearly gift of socks, a gift card, a stocking filled with candy, some art supplies, etc. I knew there was another box coming and was thinking maybe it was rain boots. So imagine my slight disappointment when I picked up a very small box at the post office on 1/2/09. Not rainboots, unless they were rainboots for a Barbie.

And then I opened the box and in the post office yelled "This is the best day ever!" and held Pooh Bear aloft like an Olympic Torch, eliciting stares from others checking their mail.

Even though I had asked for Pooh Bear back for Christmas, I didn't expect it to happen. I had mailed Pooh to mom shortly after the curious incident of Duncan ripping Pooh's ear off. And as of 12/01/08, he was still sitting on my mom's dryer in Montana in the envelope in which I mailed him.

Such a better gift than rain boots.