Wherein Bry does what she does.

Whenever I post a dark and twisty blog, I feel like I immediately have to follow it up with some lighter topics. So here are some short vignettes of normal-ish Bry stuff.

Overheard on the bus:
A kid said he didn't know who the Indigo Girls were but their name "sure sounded gay."

On Tuesday I wore my black JCrew scarf I've had since college and left it on the desk. I called late Tuesday night, but JK told me it wasn't there. I was super sad. Then today I found it hiding in a cubby and I put it on even though it was 1000 degrees. JAO asked me why I was wearing a scarf. "Because I'm happy it wasn't lost." JW thought this was an adorable answer. JAO accused me of trying to cover a hickey.

The good thing about commuting on the same bus line every day is that it has become fairly predictable. However, I'm beginning to recognize the other regulars and they me. Unlike the other commuters, I believe a bus ride should be spent in silence or talking quietly to a traveling partner. I really think people who talk to strangers on the bus are bat-shit crazy people.

Today I look like a hobo not because of what I am wearing, but because of how ill-fitting it is. Everything is so baggy. This makes me sad, some of my clothes are kinda cute. I told MP I was going to start eating until everything fits again, I just can't afford to buy new clothes. She was aghast. "I'm just kidding, I swear!"

Today a woman asked me for a book by a man called Henky. I said, "Henning Mankell?" No, she was positive that wasn't it. She told me he wrote Scandinavian mysteries. "Right. Mankell. I'm positive." But oh no, she was sure I was wrong. So I lead her to the section. Oh, yah, that was it. Then she asked me if Sarah Waters was similar. Now, this is very book snobish, I do admit, but are you freaking kidding me? How could you mistake them for the same writing. She also took me to task for not reading PD James. "I don't read mysteries. I'm more of a trashy romance kinda gal." I then made a joke about his name being Henna Ankles. So I officially can never read his stuff.

My brother got married today. And his ex-wife got married a few weeks ago. I can't wait for HH, LH, or TG's memoirs in 20 years "That was the summer my parents got married to other people." This is sort of a dark thing to say and I don't mean it in jest or as a criticism. I just like to imagine them growing from the little people they are now into adults who do adult like things, such as drink port, smoke tobacco from pipes, wear monocles, and write memoirs. Oh, and apparently they are early-century British in this scenario.

The End